Der Bingle and LZP: Jody’s uncle and Jody’s dad.

Jody’s brother Joe home from his Air Force posting and his fiancee, Sloane.

Just a few minutes ago, the LaCrosse pulled into the driveway and Der Bingle arrived from Iowa. It was a sad journey for him, going out there to be with his brother as they said goodbye to Jody. But it was also a good trip – one that spoke of family ties and caring.

Last afternoon they barbequed in the late afternoon and then sat out long into the night around the firepit – talking, remembering and watching the flames.

And today Der Bingle drove for about six hours – out of Iowa, through Illinois and a long way across Indiana. He actually passed through farmland my grandparents once owned that is now the Indiana Toll Road. And on the way out on his route from Dayton, he passed just a few miles north of the place where my father grew up and is buried.

He is here now; it has warmed up and the sun is out. Not a bad latter part of the day.

He has a box in his trunk of old photos for us to sort and scan – one is of his grandfather’s family . . . when his grandfather was a boy. Another is of Floyd Akers. That would be Lydia Akers’ father and Lydia was Quentin’s great-grandmother and her maiden name is his middle name.

There are pictures of fellows in the Denver Masonic Lodge through the years. There is a picture of his dad in his high school football uniform.

I don’t know if anyone thought to take a picture of the faces around the fire last night, but it will be in their memories for a long, long time – because “to care and be cared for” is a camera of the heart.

VoiceMessage-2603128833jody

Yesterday, after I went to a follow-up appointment about the colonoscopy with “the butt doctor”,  Summer and I celebrated the sun and rising temperature by mowing. She was on the Toro cart mower and I manned the Wheel Horse – we mowed for hours at Mother’s. We took the dogs and, of course, Shane did his constant barking at the mowers thing – so we stuck him in the house. HA! Try to learn from that, Furdog.

He barked from the enclosed porch at me as I chugged across the front yard. When we finished the front and east part, Summer went in to get him because I thought we could tie him to a tree out back and he could bark without bothering anyone. He strained at the end of the cable and barked. So she began to throw the Wubba for him and then we let him off his cable and he chased the Wubba and brought it back and didn’t bark. For awhile. Then he remembered he liked to bite at the wheels and I discovered a really sour-faced look  and a stiff arm, hand and finger point right at his nose made him back off.

I had my camera in my pocket, but I had forgotten the battery in the charger. No pictures. Maybe just as well because Summer might have captured the sour-faced point maneuver and, according to her, it ain’t a pleasant sight.

This morning I am looking at grey sky again. That might be a good thing since my muscles are aching from yesterday.

And as I sit here resting, I am wondering how these stories will translate into Summer’s retelling some forty years from now when I am long gone . . .

Here’s a LINK that Cameron insisted I see. Perhaps we need to go look closely at out cow standing by the fence.

We’ll go ahead and show you the picture.

Maybe I will start playing around with some of the different things WordPress can do, now that I have done a search on how to keep Lon’s remarks about Jody at the top of the post line-up. Such experimentation could prove disastrous, though, with cows totally upside down or falling out of computers onto my lap  – and maybe your desks. So I am testing this option out.

Now I am going to push publish – don’t hold your breath.

LZP sent a text message this morning at 7:41; I saw it just a while ago. His daughter, Jody, passed away today. She suffered from a rare genetic disease that was diagnosed when she was a wee girl – very smart, bubbly, good-natured. She was so loved by her parents all of her life.

Der Bingle once said that her father, his brother, was the best person he knew. I hope he  will want to write something about her here. I am not worthy to do so, not willing to presume words.

Take these two products, lots of eggs and my 14-year-old granddaughter and wait for tomorrow’s picture posting. I know – you are thinking, “14?” Well, why not? I’m certain there will be many “modifications” to the process and resulting grins, laughs and guffaws. How about a Goth Easter Egg? East Eggs with and Attitude?