...sweethearts from high school to heaven...

The 10 Acres

Once there was a place,
where whose enchantment was limited only by a boy's creative imagination.
Was it the enchanting green grass covered moors,
or the babbling crystal brook that flowed lazily by the tall timbers,
or maybe the dense forest jungle area, with its ghostly shadows moving,
or the thicket where the huckleberries grew,
or maybe the shallow wading pond with the ever present tadpoles and bullfrogs lived,
or the area of the tall longleaf pines grew, with the with the ever fresh fallen pine straw covered ground which was a choice spot for Easter egg hunts
or a picnic on Sunday after church.

It was all
of the above
and more to young sons
and friends
when growing up on
our small farm in South Alabama.

That was The 10 Acres.

As Longfellow said
"Oh to be a boy with a heart full of joy"
and play on the 10 Acres once again.

Easter

After a pre-dusk arrival on Friday,
and lots good talk and fine food
throughout the evening and
over the next day and way after
sunset on Easter Eve,
The Williamsons of Anastasia Island
and Apalachee
exchanged hugs and hugs and
bid farewell to
The Williamsons of The Wiregrass
on a beautiful
Easter morning.

Below: Biba shares wisdom with Top Crop's family and Gilma stands with the entrance to the street named for his family...and ours.

A Blessed Day

02.05.08

Last Sunday was a blessed day that we will never forget, and each of you had a very important part in making it so.

When we arrived at church on Sunday a.m., the door greeters of course gave us a special Sunday greeting. In the foyer the Pastor met us saying, "Here come the Williamsons on their 68th wedding anniversary." He gave us a special hug and hand shake very enthusiastically. I had my camera and we went into the sanctuary which was dark, and made photos of the beautiful flower arrangement. Then Bob Gross came in and wanted to make photos of Mama and me with the flowers, which he did, several poses. The preacher's wife, Debbie, came in and hugged and congratulated us, and so did several friends who also saw us and greeted us. Then we went to our Sunday School classes.

After Sunday School, we came back in the auditorium for worship. There are five movie screens in the auditorium and our wedding pictures were on each screen, with the statements: "Engaged on Halloween - Married on Groundhog Day."

As the service started, the pastor's assistant, Mike, recognized us and asked us to stand, the entire church body applauded for a long time, and several got out of their seats and came and congratulated us.

After the service dozens came to us as we tried to leave. The pastor was at the door as we left for the parking lot and again stopped us to say how he was so happy for us and how proud he was of us and our lives. Others greeted us as we walked to the car. We have had phone calls and cards since Sunday.

So many people told us how beautiful the flowers were, and they were. Will send pictures soon.

We told Beth that she could have the flowers to use for the WMU meeting Tuesday. Today she brought us a beautiful vase bouquet from your arrangement, after using the rest of them to make seven table arrangements for the WMU dinner. After the WMU, they put them in the fridge at the church and will use them at a library meeting later this week.

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE FLOWERS. They were a ministry.

I know this is long but we wanted you to know.

Love you,

Mom & Dad

LXVIII Orbits

As constant as the heavens is
the life your lives have built.
Gilma and Elizabeth together
is the only world we have known
and the only world in which
we would have ever chosen to live.

Happy 68th Wedding Anniversary

**** **** ****

o2.o2.o8/9:17pm

On February 2, 1940, Walter Gilma Williamson and Mary Elizabeth Kelley were married, after four years as dear friends which, very soon culminated into High School Sweethearts (that has never changed).

The marriage was performed by Dr. Leroy Priest, pastor of the First Baptist Church of Dothan. The ceremony was witnessed by Mrs. Priest and several close friends of the bride and groom.

After the vows were complete, Dr. Priest said "Now you may kiss your bride,” I was so nervous that I knocked her hat off trying to kiss her. Of course everybody laughed, including the preacher and his wife. Needless to say I felt like a dummy.

Now after 68 yeas we are still sweethearts and very much in love. Our marriage has been blessed by three wonderful sons and their lovely families

We thank the Lord, daily for His blessings on our God given family and His guidance as we begin our 69th year of wedding bliss that began so many years ago, and the great joy that our family brings to us on our every thought of them, daily.

Much love to each of you,
Mama&Daddy-----GM&GD

We Voted

Since Max and Hannah were very young, they have accompanied me to the court house on election night to wait and watch as elections returns came in from precincts scattered between the coast and the banks of the St. Johns.

Other than watching the numbers rise through the evening, there was the coming and going of all the local candidates for commission and tax collector, state house and sheriff. Seeing these people who had their names on billboards and photos in the newspaper demystified them in the eyes of Max and Hannah, made them human and approachable and in a way simply nothing special. The photo below appeared in the Record after Hannah and I visited the Supervisor of Elections office one election night a decade ago.

When Lauren visited Max a couple of weeks ago she brought his absentee ballot back, and I delivered it to the Supervisor of Elections office last week. This morning, minutes after the polls opened, Lauren, Hannah and I voted just down the street at the Elks Club. We were the 17th, 18th, and 19th people to vote in our precinct; Hannah was the 18th. I was about to make a photo of Hannah and Lauren after we had voted when Skip and his wife, neighbors of ours, walked up and Skip offered to make a photo (above) of all three of us.

Biba's Nook

the nook must have existed before I
for I remember there always being one.
a desk in a corner,
with space for pens and pencils,
stapler and scotch tape,
shelves for books,
drawers with stationary and cards
and bills, both paid and to-be-paid,
a lamp for evening work,
and a phone for calls
both local and those long anticipated
from Dothan and Hialeah
that had to be short
for they were
long distance.
the nook is the place where the
record is kept while smiling eyes,
well ordered and precisely placed,
current and historical,
look on as the journal is updated
every day, and the letters flow
like water from a deep spring,
cool and refreshing
words that bind together
family members scattered
but never far from thought
and always held in the heart.

Christmas Hearth Photos

From Mebane it's all smiles from Mike, Meri Christi and Raine.

Nancy enjoys the mountain top and Harry's happy in the Big Red Chair.

Mark's excited over his traditional gift, Bill's excited to leave things cleaner than he found them, and Melody's excited to breath deep that fresh mountain air.


The Chrstmas hearth at 1203 N'field included Mama and Daddy, Ronald and Travis, and Quinn.


The Anastasia Island Williamsons with Christmas guest Lynda Titus, Lauren's sister visiting from Toronto.

Approach to Christmas Eve

Starting only a few hours after winter arrived, the sky over St. Augustine filled with small, stubby clouds that allowed sunlight to flood only small patches of earth at a time. The clouds moved quickly above the earth and illuminated only piece of the earth at a time. There would be the bay in near darkness while the houses on Porpoise Point would radiate in their pastel yellows and blues and mint greens.

That was Friday.

Then all day on the second day of winter, Saturday, the light remained a dim grey making it impossible to know if it was 10:27a or 3:38p. The light stayed grey all day, but the lack of sun did not bring on colder air. We ate inside because of the thick damp air, not because of the cold when we went to Creekside to celebrate Lynda’s birthday with her and Doug and Diane, her friends from Toronto.

The dawn of the eve of Christmas Eve, Sunday, was just the opposite. No clouds. Sunshine falling onto every grain of sand and clump of coquina scattered on both sides of the Matanzas River.

Ronald and Travis stopped by at noon. We visited briefly standing first in the living room then walking outside and all the way around the house before they headed west at 12:30p. Their planned route was to take them west over the St. Johns and then north at some point into Georgia and the west again all the way to Houston County. Hannah had half a dozen friends over the watch a movie, one who spent the night, and Lauren and I watched television.

And so we come to today...Monday...Christmas Eve...a day that holds all the magic of Christmas Day and then more because the nighttime of Christmas seems to be where the enchantment lies.

Max arrived a little after 10a, Lauren and I each went for out for moments of shopping for those last-minute-little-things, then Max and Hannah went to see a movie this afternoon. For dinner this evening there will be the four of us, Max’s friend Lauren, Lynda, Diane, and Doug. I will pick up our order from Gypsy Cab Company at about 6p-- three entrees, fish, chicken and eggplant parmesan, sides of mashed potatoes and tossed pasta --and shortly after that start lit the oak already stacked in the fireplace. We will feast and fellowship and then doze lightly as we anticipate the arrival of first light and the surprises that await.

To each branch at every hearth, we send you our love and our wish for an abundance of blessings on all of you.

Recent Asheville Afternoon

This afternoon was a blast. Zipping around downtown Asheville one Autumn afternoon. We saw mountains, grand & humble buildings, learned about the history of this lovely city, saw women in purple hats and noted all available condos in many locations. We topped off the day with pizza and ice cream. Fantastic. Ask Nancy about trying to run away with one of the "Segue."
The day before Nan and I had a visit to Tops and watched part of the very long Asheville Christmas parade. It's certainly something to put on your calendar for next year.

On the 336th day of the year, the first entry of the year

In the folder labeled Brothers, there are over 500 email exchanges between my brothers and me, my parents and me, my brothers and my parents, and all of us to all others. Some are short one-way communications. Some extend to dozens of back-and-forth as a minuet detail of the past is retold and relived until it is alive again.

So while it has been over a year since the last entry in this log, there have been words written. Many, many words.

And there have been visits. Many visits it seems: some around holidays; several around birthdays in Dothan; and others without holiday or anniversary, but just a visit to deliver butterflies.

But our visit (Paul, Lauren, Max & Hannah) was so we could have Thanksgiving dinner together. It took a weaving of travels of four people in two cars over five days, but the four of us had Thanksgiving dinner at Mama’s table with Daddy offering the blessing. That was a blessing.

Mama, Daddy and I visited the cemetery at Beulah Church, Grandmother Williamson's home church. There were many Burdeshaws there, much like there are many Williamsons at Selma Church. There are two tower monuments, nearly six feet high, one each for Philip and Celia, and the grave of John who was not actually buried there as his "footstone" explained: his remains are in a military cemetery in Elmira, NY where he died a prisoner of war.

Visiting these family plots in church cemeteries is a way for me to connect with the past and my past. I suppose it is simply that under each headstone (literally) there is a story, one that we may only know a tiny bit of...a name and a couple of dates. Some tell more. Family plots with the remains of generations tell the most stories, and strolling through the headstone hedgerows with my Mama and Daddy gives voice to those stories.

Back On The Island

Crawford Street/Thanksgiving Morning

I left via the Cottonwood Road and continued to Malone, then took State Road 2 east to the Georgia line, turning south on River Road, so named for it follows the west bank of the Chattahoochee. After passing through Sneads, I got onto I-10 just before it crossed the Apalachicola River. The first part of the drive was paced, meandering, I stopped to make a photo; I slowed to look at past century main street buildings now deserted.

But then I got to I-10.

It was as if I were a little twig floating down a small twisting creek, meandering through small, slow pools, but always moving forward, down stream to the river. The river was I-10. Its current was swift, the space between its banks broad, and the debris that floated on its surface of various sizes, shapes and colors. Into its main stream I swirled and for the next three hours flowed at the steady speed of 81 miles per hour. For the final leg of the trip I returned to a meandering creek. I threw myself into another smaller stream by traveling down US-17 through Green Cove Springs, over the Mighty St. Johns River and then on to St. Augustine.

The quick trip takes a little less than five hours; today mine took six and a half and I am better for it.

The near 72 hours in Dothan were not near enough, and yet were full; no minute was wasted. Aside from the time spent with the traditional Thanksgiving rituals of cooking and feasting, there was continual giving of thanks.

The Kelley-Williamson Family is rich in its heritage and strong of character, and I never grow tired of hearing its stories. Some are near legendary bordering on myth because of the amazing characters, others are like parables for their casts are mortal men and women learning great lessons. Each story through, no matter the moral or the outcome, is more interesting to me than any literature because each is filled with my family. Those stories are filled with those who are me.

Some stories I know well and hear many times and enjoy the retelling; others are told to me for the first time; still others delve into the who behind each and every what, giving me insight into another time, another culture, and yet are familiar because the characters have my name; they are my tribe.

When I hear the stories of the late 19th century and early 20th century agriculture culture of Southeast Alabama, of the development of Dothan as a commercial center, of the slow pace of the life, of the hard times of every household, of the tragedies overcome by the victories in spirit, and when I hear the names of these pioneers, the Kelleys, Mullins, Williamsons, and Burdeshaws, it seems as if that world is my own Old Country from which my parents emigrated, not by steam ship over an ocean, but by love of each other and shared hard work over time.

It is where I came from and I am proud of it all and want to know it all.

Perhaps I feel if I know all that was before me I will better know me, but mostly I think I embrace it because it is my story. It is not written down; it is not public. It is oral, and depends on the retelling by one generation to the next.

When I got back on the island, I spent the first few hours sitting on my porch, enjoying the cool air of the November Florida dusk, allowing the words and images of the recent days to wash over me. There were no particular thoughts; no time spent recounting specific moments or conversations. There was simply a need to stave off the reentry for a few more minutes, and to relish the time spent touching my parents, touching my past, reacquainting myself with myself, of giving thanks.

Bear Branches in the Backwater of Lake Seminole

Hard to believe it's as warm in Florida as here

I really have no idea what I am doing, but I am game to try to figure it out and am happy to have a venue where we all can contribute and catch up in our own time. Boy, that was a long runon sentence. . . Grammer and Math were never my best subjects. So if this works the way I think it does, you may all see this entry when you sign up.

Happy Thanksgiving. Will I be the only Williamson working that day?

Over the River and Through the Woods

It was 44 degrees this morning on Anastasia Island, the coldest yet of the season. Tonight is to be a little colder, maybe in the high 30's with possibility of wind and rain. It all makes for the continuation of autumn and the coming of winter, still a month away.

Hannah and I will leave tomorrow about an hour ahead of the 6:56am sunrise. We'll stop in Tallahassee to pick up Max and then arrive in Dothan midday. I am considering departing the interstate in Tallahassee and driving US-90 to Marianna, then back on the usual route. Max and Hannah have never been through Mt. Pleasant, Chattahoochee, Sneads, or Grand Ridge. It will be a part of Florida they can add to their experience and to their life experiences they will be able to say "Yeah, I spent some time in Chattahoochee."

With the commencement of the bookend holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas, there is the start of reminisces of holiday's past. Only natural. Unavoidable.

I don't ever remember traveling back to Dothan for the holiday, or traveling at all really, except when I left home and would return, as I am doing tomorrow.

One Thanksgiving in particular comes to mind as regards the whole family: 1973, when Ronald brought Travis to Madison to meet the family for the first time.

Another one comes to mind for my branch of the tree: 1996 with a trip to Long Island, spending a couple of days in NYC and witnessing the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade, and then trekking to western New Jersey to visit Lauren's dad. Photo on the left is the mad-dash from the parade to Penn Station to return to Long Island. The photo on the right is from the day after Thanksgiving at Sargentsville Bridge over the Wickecheoke Creek, the only 19th century wooden covered bridge in the state.

The temperature has dropped to 47 degrees after a high today of 50 degrees. The wind is picking up out of the northeast and a roaring fire of coastal oak burns hot in the fireplace as darkness moves over the island. It will be a cozy night before traveling tomorrow, over the river and through the woods.

lllllll

The mad-dash from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade to Penn Station for the return to Long Island, 1996 .

lllllll

The day after Thanksgiving, 1996, at Sargentsville Bridge over the Wickecheoke Creek, the only 19th century wooden covered bridge in the state.

backyard hammock

The cat that walked through the backyard looked almost like a Florida panther. Even though he was grey with black calico patterns and not sandy brown, he was lean, very alert but continually distracted in an investigative way, and although big for a yard cat, he was very small for a panther.

He stopped under the porch window and only then heard the tapping of the laptop's keys. He first just looked at me passively, but then began to stare with preciseness, considering his reaction to his discovery. Suddenly he scampered, first in a slow trot but then into a full run, retreating under the saw palmetto and through the hole in the fence he'd used to enter the once again quiet backyard hammock.