Happy Birthday, Happy Anniversary,General Meade

Oh, to be in Philadelphia today!

My dear, dear friends, the General Meade Society, are gathering in Laurel Hill Cemetery where they will toast and honor the victor of Gettysburg, General George Meade, born this day in 1815. Our hero, Andy Waskie, portrays the general and leads the march to his grave each year. It is a lovely spot, overlooking the Schuylkill River. There the assembled share bottle after bottle of champagne, toasting General Meade, President Lincoln, the veterans, etc., etc., until cases of bubbly have been consumed long before most folks have begun their New Year's Eve celebration. It is a grand tradition!!

 

150th Anniversary of Lincoln's call for 'troops to defend Washington' parade in Philadelphia. Marching down Chestnut St to Broad and then to the site of the old train depot at Broad & Washington Sts. — with Robert Houston and Kenneth Gavin at Philadelphia PA

 

Laurel Hill Cemetery, looking toward Meade's grave and the river. Gary took this when we were there a while ago. Below, Andy Waskie as General Meade and his bride, CarolNeumann Waskie as Clara Barton at the Constitution Center, Philadelphia.

This is also the wedding anniversary of General Meade and his beloved, Marguerite, and of Andy Waskie and his beloved Carol Neumann, my lovely and dear friend. Happy Anniversary, and we will have a toast in your honor. Thank you for the excuse to imbibe.

Below, statue of Meade at Gettysburg. In Kansas, Meade is memorialized in Meade, the town, and Meade, the county.

Waskie Gone Wild

I am fortunate to know some people who are extremely passionate about history. Some are in treatment programs. Some lead inspiring lives. Case in point: Anthony Waskie.

My dear friend Andy founded and serves as the president of the General Meade Society of Philadelphia. This prestigious group meets regularly to pay homage to the "Victor of Gettysburg" or "The Man Who Saved the Union." They have trips, galas, historic talks, wreath-layings--all manner of events to remind us of contributions of those gone on before.

I love these people! Let's face it--you have to be a bubble off plumb to show up at a cemetery in freezing weather on New Year's Eve to drink champagne and toast a man who has been dead more than a century. Perhaps. If so, the mania is spreading because each year Andy leads a throng of hundreds on the pilgrimage to the General's grave in Laurel Hill Cemetery. I have been honored to speak to this group and to accompany them on many travels. They are a shining example of what passion and determination can accomplish.

The General would be proud!

In Philly at Last!

Well, folks, I arrived safely in Philadelphia. After weather delays in Detroit, we finally took off about 2 and half hours late--but let me emphasize I appreciate the concern of airlines and Air Traffic Control. I might add I was flying Northwest and the gal at the ticket counter was exceptionally effective and polite. Despite grumbling, she kept the dissatisfaction to a minimum with frequent updates and upbeat personality. We should all learn to be more patient.

My friends were in Baltimore when I arrived, so I had to take a cab to their home. I won't go into details, but the cabby will be reported to the Port Authority which apparently has some control over such things.

Upon entering my friends' home, I felt like I was home myself. I love them dearly and am so fortunate to call Andy and Carol my friends. They had wine and cheese waiting for me, not to mention a book Carol bought for me at auction: a signed copy of a volume written by the daughter of Confederate General Joe Johnston. There's no escaping our nerd-dom.

Today, I'm sitting in Andy's office at Temple University using his computer and getting some work done. Tonight, we will go out to dinner and enjoy a bottle of Kansas wine sent to my buds by my bud in Wamego, Britt Nichols. Despite what Kathleen Sebelius says, Kansas makes some fine wine.

We'll toast the Sunflower State!

(top photo, Andy and Carol and friend at a reception. They frequently attend receptions:)

Leaving, on a Jet Plane

Oh, Babe, I hate to go. . . .

As much as I'm looking forward to this trip to Philadelphia, there is a dread that comes over me every time I leave home. Three times in my life, I have returned to ashes. The first when I was 9, then when I was 17, then when I was 26. All were unrelated fires.

The first time, we were headed across the mountain to church. Mama was a tiny woman and her wedding rings were too large. She kept meaning to get them resized; instead, she put them in the bathroom closet inside the sewing box. Periodically, I would steal into the room and and try them on, carefully replacing them if I heard her coming. That morning in June, as we got dressed for church, I again tried on her rings and thought I would ask her if I could wear them. I immediately dismissed the idea as totally foolish. There was no way she would let me wear them.

When we returned late that afternoon, I was lying down in the backseat, tired after church, visiting the friends, going to the zoo. As we topped the last hill, Daddy said, "Oh God," and swerved. I was afraid to look, afraid of what could cause him to moan these words. When I did, there was flue standing where our house had been. In the days before cell phones, no one could contact us so family members were waiting. I'll never forget the smell and I'll never forget Mama going through the ashes for days trying to find her wedding rings.

Each time, I had a similar experience--something I wanted to take but didn't. It always makes me uneasy, though I dearly love to travel. The loss of those homes has left me with issues of hoarding, of fear of facing reality, of all kinds of phobias and neuroses. When I tell my friend, Carol in Philly, about these things, she chides me--sometimes gently, sometimes harshly.

"Look around," she says, "Every body's messed up!"

Sometimes that's a comfort; sometimes not. But it is true. We're all in this boat together, sister, brother. Lord be gracious, and let us provide comfort to one another as best we can. Lord, care for my loved ones, and my home, for I am so grateful for all.

St. Paddy's Day in Philly

Let's face it. Nothing says "we are blessed" better than a beer company sponsoring a cemetery tour on St. Patrick's Day. Wish we could be with our friends in Philly for this one. We'll toast you from Topeka with Bailey's, dear lads and lassies!