Reflections on Turning 80.

I have another birthday tomorrow. Eighty years of looking back gives one an excellent vantage point from which to measure time. And living in the heart of the Ozarks where seasons are distinct and reliable give you another way of measuring the nuances of life.

There is a season for planting when parents and teachers plant seeds of virtues like honesty and hard work, accountability and responsibility, character and reputation, (and knowing the difference), the value of time and money. Things like “you may be poor, but you don’t have to go dirty!”

Then comes the long season of growth. High school and maybe college. That first job and first car. Marriage and children. Raises and promotions. Home ownership. Friendships multiply and deepen. Life is a continuous growing process during this period of time. Still learning something new every day, mostly the hard way - by experience. The biggest mistake we can make in this time of our life is to think it will last forever. It won’t.

Next comes harvest time. Rewards for a life well lived. Adult children and maybe grandchildren. The pace of life slows a little bit, if you are lucky. This is a bittersweet time of life. Some of your friends have already passed on, those remaining have become more precious.

Memories are more meaningful. Reality sets in that things are changing - that you are entering a new stage of life - leaving a past to which you can never return. Memories vs. reality, again it’s important to know the difference.

We remember where we used to go, what we used to do, how we were constantly busy and never seemed to run out of energy. We had no idea that one day all that would be over. The reality is that aging happens, and all the facial creams and hair dye in the world can’t change it.

You give thanks that wrinkles don’t hurt.

Our eyes change. We can’t read the fine print, but we don’t see the flaws in others either. We look at this world through other-worldly eyes, sometimes catching a glimpse of another life, another place.

We wouldn’t go back if we could, but some days when the future seems uncertain, we long for the times that live only in our memories.

Nature is preparing for winter, resetting her clock and calendar as the crimsons and golds and oranges and browns of the leaves and ground shrubbery remind us that another change is coming.

I am now in the fall season of my life. Recently I saw a tree which was bare except for one leaf just hanging on, and to tell you the truth, sometimes that’s the way I feel. If I didn’t have so much more reading and writing I want to do, and people to love and granddaughters to watch grow up, I would be glad to just move on and live where there is no more pain. I have so many friends and family who have already gone ahead, probably more up there now than here. But God keeps us here until He is through with us.

And then comes the final season. The earth and its accoutrements need a time of rest and refreshing, a time to renew. The earth is pregnant with new life, full of bulbs now dormant and hidden in the ground to grow, just as the baby in the womb is in hiding, but growing nonetheless, awaiting the birth of spring, when the cycle starts all over again.

Moneymaker House on Harwood Avenue

I was so thrilled to read in last night's Lebanon Daily Record that the Laclede County Historical Society has now received title to the Moneymaker House on Harwood Avenue. I have always loved that house. As a little girl living in Old Town Lebanon on the corner of Wood & Apple Streets, and walking to school each day, I passed that house every day and always thought it was the most beautiful house in town. The large mature trees in the front yard were always so stately with their long curvy branches sweeping the ground and creating a canopy for the squirrels to have their own private playhouse during the spring and summer. In the fall, the leaves became a gorgeous array of colors gradually falling to the ground and making a carpet under the trees, eventually paving the way for the white snow which inevitably would come as winter would arrive. I loved the low branches sweeping the ground at the Moneymaker house so much that I asked Milan in the early years of our marriage to le...

All Keyed Up, Locked Out, and Alarmed - A Crazy Day in my Life

What a day! So many catastrophes, all having to do with keys. How weird is that? Got ready to go to work, running late as usual, and noticed at last minute I didn't have my car/house/shop keys. Last time I saw them was when we opened up the shop on Sunday afternoon to let MJ and my granddaughters pick out some beauty, bath and body items. Fortunately I keep an extra car key and house key in my wallet. Found the car key and drove to the store, but then realized I didn't have an extra key for the store. Called Milan from my cell phone and he opened the door from the inside and gave me an extra key he had. Middle of afternoon, I needed to go to the bank. Found my little car key in my purse, grabbed it and the small ring of Milan's keys so I could get back into the shop, walked about 2 steps to my car, unlocked the door, threw my purse in, got in and realized I had somehow lost the car key. Called Milan again from my cell phone hoping he had an ex...

LDR column published 05.09.12 - Jess Easley

Straight From The Hart By Joan Rowden Hart Jess Easley , Lebanon Historian and StoryTeller I’ve been trying to trace a place called Railroad Pond from the early days of Lebanon. Perhaps some of you “old-timers” will have more information, but I found a reference to it in Jess Easley ’s recollections of Lebanon. Jess talked about skating on Railroad Pond when he was just a kid, and also working to cut ice on it during the cold winters that Lebanon experienced. The grocery stores which had meat markets would hire people to cut ice from the pond to put in their ice house and store for the summer. Jess was one of Milan’s favorite customers when Milan started working at the barber shop with Fred Pitts in 1968, and he quickly became one of Milan’s mentors in collecting oral memories and memorabilia of Lebanon history. Jess was born in Lebanon in January of 1891, and died here on March 1, 1983 at the age of 92 , and had a good strong mind right up to the very end, so he...

Straight From The Hart

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