Earth History

In September-October, 1997, I took a trip throughout Wisconsin to find where my father's father was born, in Peshtigo, site of the worst natural holocaust in civilization, occurring the same night as the Chicago Fire, just south on Lake Michigan, but totally unrelated.

To my surprise, in the museum, I found a photograph of my great-grandfather's hotel/boarding house. Only 3 items in the entire territory survived the holocaust: One was a small, iron sewing machine.

To my surprise, when I bought the book Embers of October and read the account of my father's uncle (whom he never met), remembering that horrific night spent in the Peshtigo River as a boy, I learned that the small, but heavy cast-iron sewing machine had been saved by his four-year-old sister.

Only a pocket full of people survived the Peshtigo Fire, those who covered themselves with wet blankets and those who survived the night in the Peshtigo River. The stories of families incinerated in seconds in this logging town and countryside are like Visions of Hell.

The people believed that Armaggedon had struck Planet Earth. If only one survived, after seeing his entire family become human torches before his eyes, he committed suicide by whatever means he could.

One story of survival had an ironic twist. A white man had married a Menominee Indian woman from the nearby reservation. The white folks looked down on the Indians, but she told her husband how to survive in a fire, so he did what she told him to do and survived by digging a hole in the earth, putting his face deep into the ground and breathing the oxygen from the flesh of Mother Earth. (FIRE steals all the oxygen from the air and people's lungs are turned wrongside out if they don't burn to a crisp first.)

This day, a quest was being realized as I learned all about my family's history - which even my father never knew, because he was born in Florida after his father ran away from home at 14-years-old to continue the logging trade in the pine forests of southern Alabama and northern Florida.

While I was engrossed in the museum artifacts from a later time-period in Peshtigo, a siren blasted outside and several fire trucks arrived at a house across the street from the museum which seemed to have had a kitchen fire. The firemen suited up in full rubber-regalia with axes in hand to stamp and stomp out the flames.

Thanks to the Peshtigo River that night on October 8, 1871, my father's French Canadian immigrant family survived so that Samuel, my grandfather, whom I never met, could be born 6 years later.
And so, here, I AM.

My other reason for traveling throughout Wisconsin in 1997 was to find the birthplace of the White Buffalo Calf.

Chief John Ross' Grave / Tahlequah, Oklahoma
His wife Quatie died on the Trail of Tears
He died defending Cherokee Rights
before US Congress in Washington DC
July 25th, 2010: There are Two Pathways
one chooses to walk as a Life's Course:
Fear or Faith.

     Today's TV plasters and pounds FEAR into us 24/7 whipping us into a whirlwind of more Fear, Violence, Treachery and Betrayal against our neighbors. To walk by Fear is to constantly be dealing with inward and outward symptoms. Fear makes us do crazy things to others to try to "protect" ourselves from what we dread may befall us. Living in a constant state of Fear tears up our insides as sure as one would swallow "poison." So, then we have to take other "poisons" to "kill" the "poison" that our own body has produced upon itself.
     Sure, there's plenty to Fear in life on Planet Earth. The Predator is watching and waiting for us to make one false move so he can take us down like a lion or wolf watches for the weakling or the old. But, we have a choice of our Free Will. We can live by Fear, anticipating before it even happens, any number of scenarios that might destroy us.
     The natural emotion of adulthood - when we outgrow childhood, blissfully oblivious to life's struggles - is to Fear what Life is getting ready to dish out to us. A portion of Fear in moderation on our plate is the Food of Survival, but to be a healthy eater, one must CHOOSE to live by a heaping helping of Faith in the Future - belief in the goodness of Father God / Mother Creator's Love for us.
     This is the only way I know of that we can have a "personal relationship" with our own Creator, the Master of the Universe, no matter who or what has failed us. Creator's thoughts cannot dwell in a Heart of Fear because Creator Fears NOTHING "They" created. ("Let us make man in Our image.")
     My heart has been broken so many times when I trusted a person with ALL my Faith that I might be a bitterly sour person by now. But each time my personal Faith is devastated with drowning despair of disappointment, I am brought "low" to once again be "choosing" to trust the person Creator told me to trust or to return to My Source. Each time my Faith and Trust is wasted on the person I was shown to believe in,
I turn back to Wakan Tanka - The Great Sacred Mystery whose thoughts and ways are beyond my ability to comprehend.
     My Free Will Choice to Trust Wakan Tanka keeps my heart from turning to "stone" and lubricates my spirit with the "oil of gladness" knowing that I am loved by Creator, no matter whose Love fails me on Earth.
     Here's what the wisest man in the world, King Solomon wrote:
     "For I have taken all this to my heart and explain it that righteous men, wise men, and their deeds are in the hand of God. Man does not know whether it will be Love or Hatred;  Anything awaits him.
     "It is the same for all. There is one fate for the righteous and for the wicked; for the good, for the clean, and for the unclean; for the man who offers a sacrifice and for the one who does not sacrifice.  This is an evil in all that is done under the sun, that there is ONE Fate for all men. Furthermore, the hearts of the sons of men are full of evil, and insanity is in their hearts throughout their lives. Afterward they go to the dead."
     King Solomon, who had 300 wives and 700 sex slaves (bringing the wrath of God down upon the Nation of Israel) concluded with this thought: "Enjoy life with the woman whom you love all the days of your fleeting life which He has given to you under the sun; for this is your reward in life, and in your toil in which you have labored under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, verily, do it with all your might; for there is no activity or planning or wisdom in Sheol(grave) where you are going.
     "I again saw under the sun that the race is not to the swift, or the battle to the warriors, and neither is bread to the wise, or wealth to the discerning, nor favor to men of abiity - for Time and Chance overtake them all."
     My Final Conclusion: Dead or Alive, I choose to walk forward by FAITH - believing and trusting that God is LOVE, no matter how imperfectly humans express the Divine Love. When my life here ends, I will return into the Heart of my Maker just as a red blood cell flows from a far-away extremity (foot or finger) back into the Heart before it is sent out again to nourish other parts of the body.
     When I return to My Source - which is LOVE, created in the Heart of Our Creator, there are no negative emotions there - only LOVE for the ones I continue to pray for - no matter what happens. As a creative artist, I often take something I've been working on that becomes damaged in some way or another, and reshape it into a new creative form that I hadn't intended in the beginning, but which turns out many times to be "better" than I could have imagined in the first place. As the "Greatest Sacred" Mystery, Wakan Tanka does the same with our broken lives.
     As Father Israel's favorite son, Joseph, who was sold by his jealous brothers into slavery in Egypt, said when he met them years later: "What you intended for evil, YaHeWaH used for good." By God's majesty and mercy, Joseph worked his way up from slavery and 13 years in prison from a false "rape" charge by his boss' wife, to becoming second in command next to the Pharaoh of Egypt, saving the entire MidEast from famine by drought as he wisely interpreted mysterious dreams from God.

This majestic moment in history was witnessed on the Eve
of the 200th Signing of the United States Constitution
as I stood before Independence / Constitution Hall
beside the 33-year-old Australian sculptor
as he took photographs of his bronze masterpiece
two years in the making, being the 40th President,
Ronald Reagan's gift to the City of Philadelphia.
Surrounding his name and signature ont he circular base
were those of the previous 39 presidents of the USA.
The bronze eagle rested atop a red-white-blue marble base.

The National Park Ranger was calling for me to "Hurry Up,'
for the last tour of the Hall at dusk
so the Secret Service could "sweep" the building before
President Reagan appeared for the next day's activities.
I knew I had to get this photograph so I took my time
to focus before running into the Hall where
President George Washington signed the Constitution.

When I came out, the Eagle was GONE! Whisked away
to its permanent resting place enclosed in a nearby building.
This is a one-of-a-kind photograph.
Only the sculptor has the exact same photograph.

Pipestone Quarry "Ancestors" / Minnesota / 1988
This was the most "awesome" place I've ever been.
I could "feel" their presence!
(Natural Rock Formations)

Wounded Knee Cemetery
1890 Massacre of approx. 300 Sioux men, women and children
hunted down like rabbits
by
U. S. Seventh Cavalary
in retaliation for Sitting Bull's vision coming true
at "Custer's Last Stand"
Battle of Little Bighorn
(right: 1995)

On August 20th, 1994, Miracle was born
As a precious white calf, one summer morn.
Her eyes were brown, so she wasn't an albino
And she was more beautiful than a hippo or a rhino.

"Mom" knew she was special and hid her from view,
For the first year as she changed a five-color hue.
Within fifteen months, Miracle turned from white to black,
From her feet upward to the ridge of her back.

Then as if she had been washed in red henna stain,
Miracle looked like Israel's Red Heffer from tail to mane.
Next came the color of ripe golden wheat,
And last, she turned from yellow to brown,
upward from her feet.

The day we visited Miracle, when she was three years old,
Her back still bore the last shades of autumn's harvest gold.
Grandma Doris and Grandpa Jerry on the Heider farm
Told us of their first experiences
which gave them much alarm.

Two days after Miracle was born,
an Indian man walked up their drive.
"I'm here to see the white buffalo calf."
How did he know she was alive?
No one knew because they didn't think
it was an important event.
So they knew it must have been the Great Spirit
by which this man was sent.

He had sacrificed and meditated in South Dakota's Sundance:
When he had an exact vision of the farm,
he came straight as a lance.
"The white buffalo has been born,"
he had been told by The Voice.
All wondered why she was born
on a white farm by God's choice.

"But after we came to know the people
and their devoted dedication,
We all knew more people would visit here
than on a reservation."
Grandpa told us, "I thought we were headed
for a ride that was crazy
When 'Looks for Buffalo' called
and said he saw something hazy:
'A large, dark mass was moving
through the body of Miracle's father:
Take blood and semen samples now,
or soon you needn't bother,
'Cause the father will die, his life to give
So that his daughter Miracle might live.'"

This was the most bizarre thing for anyone to say,
But as he predicted, it happened on the tenth day:
Marvin died as a blood clot moved through his veins,
Finally blocking his intestines with paralyzing pains.

Grandpa Jerry told us, "That's when we knew
That Miracle was special and we had much to do."
He asked me if I wanted to be alone to make a prayer.
Pointing to a log, he said, "You can sit over there."

Meditating for quite a while, just drinking in the scene,
Of Miracle and her big brown mate who looked terribly mean,
Panting nearly uncontrollably on the warm October day,
I really didn't know what to ask for or to pray.

This sad thought came to my mind:
"Forgive us, God, for abusing the wrong kind:
White man abuses the sacrament of incense meant for Red,
Smoking his tobacco without prayers, he's cursed and dead.
Red Man abuses the sacrament
of White Man's communion wine.
If You'll forgive this nation, God, please give me a sign.

"Is Miracle really the white buffalo of Lakota lore?
Is her presence to announce:
'It's time to go through the door
Of Harmony between the Races of ALL people on Earth,
So that we may enter the Age of Peace
and Spiritual Rebirth?'"

Two large birds flew between
where Miracle and her mate lay
In the electrified corral by a pile of straw and hay.
This wasn't much of a sign, I thought, until I later read
That 23 eagles had been seen by the Heiders
over Miracle's head.
Not all at once, of course, but since the day she was born.
I thought the birds were hawks,
so of eagles I wouldn't have sworn.
Grandpa Jerry confessed: "For 50 years,
I abused wine and smoke,
'Til I asked 'The Man Upstairs' and next morning,
a new man I awoke."

Next morning after visiting Miracle,
I awoke hearing the voice say: "Miracle died."
One year later, to the day,
our home and valley was washed away
in The Kansas City Flood of October 4, 1998.

(On September 19, 2004, Miracle died.)

(Grandpa Jerry told my husband to take this photograph
of me by the statue. It was not my idea or request.
I had honored the Indians request for "No photographs."
It was amazing to Grandpa Jerry
that the 3 hours I was there,
no one else showed up even though every day
hundreds of people came by the busloads.)

Pipestone Quarry, Minnesota   September 20th, 1988
July 25th, 2010: I've always been too busy keeping my house clean and 2 acres as neat as possible with all the landscaping I created. I don't have time for Facebook, gathering "friends" faster than I can keep them "sorted."  The few I count as friends have proven themselves to me personally. I'd rather be outside in Nature, observing God's little critters, crocheting and making "dream-catchers" or playing the piano letting my mind go where it feels "moved" with memories and prayers for those I love.
     But I recently got a laptop computer for our business and found the ease of ordering "online" garden plants and crochet yarns I would have to drive all over town to find - or maybe not be able to find. The convenience is amazing. Being one who has always loved to learn, I am amazed at the information that is now available "in the blink of an eye." Saturday night, with a few minutes to spare before the sweatlodge fire was ready, I sat at my computer and entered a couple of names of people I know and love and was stunned at the ability of the "Web-brain" to find every possible appearance of a person's name anywhere in the world.
      Nothing is hidden or secret anymore. It is George Orwell's horrific book 1984 when humanity ceases to be humanity as it has been known since the beginning of our species. The Hopi Indians foretold of a day when a "spiderweb" would encase and enclose the world. And when sexual morality becomes irreversible because of over-population, Creator will destroy this Fourth World as He has done 3 times before. It is here. The latest report I heard on TV (another form of the world-wide-spiderweb) said that last year 56% of the divorces gave Facebook as the reason.
     Anyway, I was utterly fascinated to see how many places and ways the 3 names I entered for a person's name (first, middle & last) appeared in various combinations among several people appearing under the same function, business, event or whatever. It was fascinating to see the variety of "coincidences." But, then the height of a coincidence came when I put my full name into the Yahoo Search Engine and there in Mims, Florida was another woman with my exact "full" name (first, middle & last) which is not at all a common combination of 3 names. Plus, my great-grandmother's last name was Mimms. Even though I was raised in Florida for the first 20 years of my life, I had no idea there was a Mims, Florida.
     I am still stunned. I'm not as unique as I thought I was. Now, when I go into the purification sweatlodge ceremony and pray for "wichozani" (Lakota for "Health & Happiness") for myself and my family, I'm actually praying for someone I've never met. Well, if you're ever bored between activities, "enter" your name into the Yahoo Search Engine and see what comes up.

Many older cultures - Oriental and Native American
realize that a Human Life is a circle
divided into Fourths:
Think of the symbol of the Circle with the Cross.
In half of the Circle - two quarter sections -
the human is dependent upon other humans
for his existence.
A baby will die if left alone to feed itself.
An old person "that has fallen and can't get up"
also is dependent - in increasing increments -
to others.
Only in half of the circle - twenty to sixty -
are you "self-sufficient" more or less -
going whereyou want to go,
doing what YOU want to do with your time.
But, of course, we need to realize during that
Independent Stage that "others" in your family
(blood or friend) are dependent upon you
and how well you take care of them
will be measured back to you - from the Creator
Who watches everything -
"whose eyelids test the hearts of men."
When you see a handsome, healthy,
vivacious young couple
with a precious, helpless baby in their arms,
think ahead 60 years and "see" that baby
as a mature adult,
with wrinkles and beginnings
of arthiritis in her joints,
walking between two bent-over old people,
guiding by the arm a little old woman
with gnarled hands and "blue" hair
and a little old man with a cane,
a fisherman's hat, and big chimpanzee ears.
This is Mortal Life! But our Soul is Immortal!
Here I am at age 42 - the Prime of Life!
Today I am 65 - on the downhill side,
but thankful to still be self-sufficient;
however, those who are dependent upon others
realize the interconnectedness of the Human Family.
"Mitakuye Oyasin" (Lakota: "All My Relations")

Etowah Mound, Georgia / 1987
made by people even before the Cherokee moved there

LOVE BEYOND the GRAVE:

Lucille and my father had the same mother, but different fathers. Lucille's last name was Woodward. Their mother ran a boarding house in north Florida. Although Lucille refused to reveal anything about her childhood to her younger sister, Thelma, because life was so bad in the Depression in the swamp country, the name Woodward is seen in landmarks all over north Florida.

The strangest thing happened in the last year of Lucille's life of 94 years. When I visited Aunt Lucille on a trip to Florida, she told me she was going to "will' to me the antique diamond ring (on her finger) which belonged to Uncle Frank's mother. It was probably 80-to-100 years old. I was overwhelmed and thanked her from my heart.

A year later on December 19th, 1997, Aunt Lucille came to me in a dream and said, "Here is the ring. Put it on." I put it on my left hand wedding finger and was amazed how the diamonds shone like stars! But then someone tried to cover it by placing a cheap Crackerjack "swami" ring with a tiny fake stone over Lucille's powerful diamond ring.

Opening my eyes out of this morning dream, I wondered if Aunt Lucille was going to die. All day I thought about her, hoping she received my Christmas card, picture and letter. At 9:00 PM my father called and said, "Aunt Lucille died today." When I told him my dream, he said, "Oh, my goodness. A woman friend took the ring from Lucille's finger in the hospital. The nurse has her name."

Material things have never been that important to me, but this was important. I asked my father to please try to retrieve the ring Lucille wanted me to have because my mother gave me her mother's simple wedding rings and this would be a continuation of an heirloom from my father's side of the family. Since my father never follows through on anything, I prayed for God to intervene, if it was worth it to Divine Providence and Destiny. Why else would this dream have come to me?

A week later, two days after Christmas, I was watching an old Gary Cooper movie on the History Channel called "Distant Drums" about the Seminole Wars in Florida. An expert historian on that subject during the movie break said: The one man who knew the most and the truth about the Seminole Indians during this time was a trader named Thomas Woodward who married one of their women. My father's mother's first two children were Woodwards, Lucille and Luther. How amazing that within eight days I learned something about my father's older sister's family name that no one else knew.

At Aunt Lucille's memorial service, her good lady friend gave the rings to Daddy and he put them in Lucille's apartment, not being willing to take anything that had not been listed in a written will. But Lucille had not written a will, so I sent an affidavit with pictures of our visit the day she told me - in front of three witnesses - that she was going to give me the ring.

My father was Lucille's closest living relative, being her little brother, but Luther's son - the big-shot divorce lawyer has always considered himself the "Heir to the Throne" - obnoxiously so throughout the years, taking advantage of her good nature and overstepping her other nieces and nephews. Even still, after the memorial service, my father, in his trusting nature, gave D----, as another relative, a key to Lucille's condo. In a few days when my father went back to check on things, D---- had changed the locks and my father was locked out.

Four months later in April, I flew to Tampa to visit my father. The day I was preparing to return to Kansas City, a lady friend of Aunt Lucille's called my father to tell him that D---- had a U-Haul backed up to Lucille's condo and was filling it with her heirloom furniture - even the diningroom chandelier. We ran over and a friend of Lucille's who lived in the condo said that D----'s wife had locked herself in the condo for a week. When she left, all of Lucille's jewelry and furnishings were gone before they posted a Garage Sale sign in the front yard. People were milling about Lucille's empty condo, taking whatever was left. I quickly gathered up my Aunt Lucille's personal private papers that told me the story of her warm and generous life - the reason she had so many friends in Tampa.

Dreams are strange. Why did Wakan Tanka give me a dream the day Aunt Lucille died in 1997 that would foretell deceit and theft that I could do nothing about? Eleven years later, on October 22nd, 2008, Chaska came upstairs from his jewelry room where he was making a turquoise ring. After seeing a rather chunky, tarnished silver ring in his Tupperware tub that was full of various stones he'd collected over a period of time, he decided to polish it today and bring it up to show me how beautifully it cleaned up. He was surprised that such a beautiful diamond ring would have been set in Sterling silver rather than gold, or even white gold. This is why for three years, since before we left Tampa, it lay dull and dingy in his Tupperware container.

We wondered if it were real diamonds. I was shocked to see this awesome ring out of nowhere! When I put it on the middle finger on my right hand, I knew, "This is MINE. You're not selling this at Market Square!" But then we had NO idea where it came from. No one in Tampa had ever given him this ring to make a repair or size it. It was in perfect shape so it needed no repair work, and Chaska knew he'd never touched it.

After Chaska cleaned up the ring and gave it to me, I sat down and watched the Da Vinci Code on TV, a story that seeks to unravel the great mystery of Jesus and Mary's relationship and the meaning of the Holy Graal, the hexagon (six-pointed star), "Blade and Chalice, fused as one" in Rosslyn Chapel in Scotland, land of my mother's father's people. Six days before this night, I began praying about the six-pointed star and these six words, being a Sign for "Something." What? I knew the last words in the New Testament (Book of Revelation) were: "I, Jesus...am the root and offspring of David, the bright morning star."

For the next four months, I continued to pray deeply about this mystery symbol as my own life came unraveled for a time. This symbol was my anchor. Then in the morning hours (3:45 AM) of February 3rd (2009) which is believed by some to be The Morning Star Day, the most mind-boggling revelation happened before my eyes. As I was writing in my biography the details of my last meeting with Aunt Lucille in Tampa when she promised to give me her diamond ring, I looked down at my own hand wearing the ring that WAS REAL diamonds, typing the words "Aunt Lucille's ring," and gasped in awe!

Could it be that Wakan Tanka answered my prayer made eleven years earlier and removed my aunt's ring from the finger of the thief and put it on my finger - as Aunt Lucille did in my dream the morning she died? I found the last picture of Aunt Lucille and me, got out my magnifying glass and looked closely. On her finger was the diamond ring that is now on my finger, brought back to me beyond the grave, to keep our family line connected.

JESSE JAMES
March 20, 1997

The most ruthless period was our Civil War "games"
Which created and promoted the gang of Jesse James.
When Frank was seven and Jesse only three,
Their family moved from Kentucky to Missouri.

Soon, their preacher-Dad left to seek gold,
Never to return to see his sons grow old.
He quickly died, so Zerelda remarried
Dr. Reuben Samuels, whom her family he carried.

Life was decent from these God-fearing folks,
Until the Civil War broke family yokes.
Kansas Free-State, "Bloody Kansas," the least,
Began the Civil War more fiercely than back East.

Bands of irregulars burned town and farm:
"Partisan Ranger Act" legalized the hooligan arm.
Zerelda James' family had once held slaves;
So her sons were Confederates, destiny's road was paved.

Frank joined William Clark Quantrill's ruthless raiders;
Jesse, 16, joined "Bloody Bill" Anderson, his reputation greater.
At Centralia, Missouri, Anderson stopped a Union train,
Lined up 22 unarmed soldiers and shot out their brains.

Jesse was initiated as a teenage youth.
How could he discern between falsehood and truth?
Frank, with Quantrill, killed every man in town
In front of their families and burned Lawrence to the ground.

Life in the 1860s was "eye-for-eye:"
Acts of vengeance as wives and children cry.
A Union raid would kill Jesse's step-dad
In the only secure home Jesse ever had.

After the war, Jesse tried to surrender,
But the Union shot him, still acting as defender.
By this, Jesse knew he'd always be "on the run,"
So he might as well make a living with his gun.

No one had ever had the nerve to rob a bank,
And this act of Jesse's was more than a prank:
Fourteen men formed the James-Younger gang,
Hardened by war, they worried not to hang.

Liberty, Missouri, first time a bank was robbed,
When a boy was shot through the heart, his family sobbed.
Cold blood of youth wasn't right in Jesse's eyes,
Nor was splitting $60,000 fourteen ways, wise.

An internal struggle for power ensued
Over which gang member had more talent embued.
Russelville, Kentucky, with $12,000, out they burst,
The Good, Bad and Ugly, for better or for worst.

Gallatin, Missouri, Jesse shot a teller in the head,
Thinking this man had shot "Bloody Bill" dead.
The James gang had many common, local fans
In former Confederate States, as to-and-fro they ran,

Who offered alibis or were willing to let them hid,
As the possee formed and by them would ride.
Whether or not they really held up Iowa State,
No one knows for sure because of their alibi date.

Jesse thrived on the media's throbbing attention:
He reveled in looking sharp while robbing convention,
As the gang advanced to holding up trains,
Pulling out a track, cleverness from their brains.

But the train overturned in a big-time disaster.
July, 1873, Adair, Iowa, they decided to work faster:
Even though the engineer died and the express car was low,
With only $2,000, through passeengers' belongings they did go.

From then on, they stood on the railroad track, topped
With an emergency flag flying, and the train always stopped.
The James-Younger gang zig-zagged faster than you could see:
Gadd's Hill and Rocky Cut, Missouri,
Hunting, West Virginia
Galveston, Texas and Nashville, Tennessee.
The James brothers even had time to marry and raise family.

In April, 1874, Jesse married cousin Zerelda Mimms;
(Sylvia's great grandmother was Minnie Mimms.)
She birthed a girl and a boy by him.
Frank married Annie Ralston and had a son;
As husbands and fathers, they were faithful and fun.

Pinkerton's Detective agents "never sleep,"
And gave Jesse's family cause to weep:
"I do not know the meaning of the word Fail!"
Into Zerelda Samuel's house a pink-bomb did sail.

Dr. Samuels tried to push it into the fireplace,
But it exploded and blew off Zerelda's arm in the race.
The blast killed Jesse's nine-year-old half-brother,
A double sorrow the community mourned with his mother.

With $5,000 reward for Jesse "Alive or Dead,"
He needed new recruits to stir up some "bread."
The Younger and James gang reconvened in Minnesota,
To rob the bank of Northfield to meet their quota.

This was their biggest mistake to date:
This town of Union vets didn't sit around and wait:
Well-armed sharp-shooters from the Civil War,
They blasted the Younger Gang through wall and door.

Frank, Jesse and Bob Younger were in the bank,
While Cole Younger outside, from a bullet, sank.
Pitts and Chadwell died in the street,
While Frank and Jesse rode circles in defeat.

Lost in Minnesota, an unfamiliar land,
The James Boys split apart from Cole Younger's band.
Cole, Bob and Jim, all wounded, got life in the pen,
So Frank and Jesse became converted, upstanding men.

Working a regular job, and not as a coward,
Jesse James posed for three years as "Mr. Howard."
But normal life for these guys was much too slow,
So back to Kansas City, Jesse's family did go.

Bluecoat, Missouri, "Chicago and Alton Railroad heist,"
Jesse took $6,000 and was back into vice.
Then he robbed a stagecoach and Frank was upset:
This life wasn't worth it, no matter how rich you get.

"Just one more robbery" Jesse planned with the Brothers Ford,
But his time had run out, in 1881, he met the Lord.
Bob Ford shot him square in the back of the head;
Hundreds of St. Joseph, Missouri people ran to see him dead.

Two years later, Charles Ford committed suicide from shame.
Ten years later, saloon owner Bob Ford was killed by an unknown name.
Frank surrendered to Governor Crittenden, and got off on a hitch.
'Til he died at 72, Frank made money selling the James Gang's pitch.

GRAVE of JESSE JAMES
April 3, 1997

Who lay in the grave of Jesse Woodson James?
Had Missouri's governor promised bank robbers to tame?
Did he make a politicial decision to offer a deal
To Jesse, to rid folks of the man who steals?

Is it true, as some folks say,
Jesse and the governor had a win/win day?
For Missouri to be rid of Jesse James' crimes
And Tom Crittenden to win more campaign dimes?

Is this theory true that says 'twas Jesse who killed
Charlie Bigelow, his close double, often billed?
Charlie went about robbing the local banks,
Blaming it on Jesse, who had it! with his pranks.

So maybe Jesse used his double this time
To die and be buried in "his" grave for crime?
Or did Bob Ford hunt bounty for $10,000 cash
From Governor Crittenden's political stash?

Bob and Charles Ford, discussing cattle that day,
April Third, '82, they asked for Jesse's say.
Were the governor's double agents waiting for their cue?
When Jesse took his gunbelt off, he got his deadly due.

As he turned, to hang a needlepoint picture,
Bob Ford shot his head by the light fixture.
Jesse slumped forward as the needlepoint fell.
From that point on, there've been stories to tell.

J. Frank Dalton, a bearded old codger,
Lived in Texas as the famous law dodger.
Dalton swore he was Jesse, with records to prove
That in 1882 he faked death and to Texas moved.

But, was it true that Jesse left wife Zee
And two sons behind for a Texas spree,
To start a new family as J. Frank Dalton,
With many more children, like TV's Waltons?

Legends abound in many a family yarn
That Jesse made love in more than one barn.
Hundreds of folks, when a "James" they see
Want to claim Jesse James' genealogy tree.

In the 1930s, thirty old men claimed to be
Famous Jesse James, alive and walking free.
But most old men start to look alike,
As their noses grow and hair turns white.

No matter how many records some folks claim,
Only one family tree can carry Jesse's name.
His father, a Baptist preacher, left him at three
For Gold Rush Fever; His son he'd never see.

Jesse grew to be one of Quantril's Raiders:
Guerilla avengers, irregular pirate traders.
Kansas and Missouri fought their own Civil War,
Nearly bloodier than back East: Slavery "nay" or "for."

In 1995, Jesse's body was exhumed:
Crumbled and rotten, a moldy perfume;
Bones, so powdery they had no DNA,
But 15 teeth had something to say.

Dental records showed that many were filled;
And there was the bullet by which Jesse'd been killed!
Behind the right ear by the gun of Ford;
And a bullet in the ribs, a lifetime had been stored.

Many in Civil War days lived with their wounds,
Carrying shrapnel and bullets to their mortal tombs.
A 36-callibre from a Colt "Navy" had blown
A hole in his ribs, as coffin photo had shown.

Part of Jesse' disguise had been to dye his hair,
To darkened black from natural golden fair.
Sure enough! Scientists found the hair was dyed,
So all those theories and stories had lied.

But the truth, for all to know and ponder
Came through his mother's "mita-chonder,"
DNA from Zerelda his mom to sister Sue.
Lavenia's sons proved their genealogy true.

Zerelda had raised her son alone,
Like mothers, worldwide, until he was grown.
And after he died, she guarded his grave,
From souvenir hunters, her son to save.

(In the documentary from which these facts were taken, the young man, descendant from the female line,
is the spittin' image of Jesse James.)

The MISSOURI RIVER
(January 29, 1997)

The river was once more loved in the past
As a romance relationship that forever would last;
Native in canoes leaving serpentine tracks
As they silently slipped o'er the wavy snake's back.

Anglos in ships, with lofty twin towers
Bragged about her "lady's" winning powers.
Lonesome bends blossomed as a bevy
Of colorful ships lined up at the levy.

Pilots, like dancers, pranced o'er floating logs,
And maneuvered lithely to avoid the bogs.
"Big Muddy" Missouri was known for its snags,
Deadly, sinister thorns beneath cliffs and crags.

If the river iced up around your hull,
Ship, captain and crew spent a winter dull,
Iced in for months with nothing to do,
Looking at the same, barren, bleak view.

Behold and beware of frozen chunks called "freaks!"
If they hit, you had more than cracks and leaks.
Your ship could be shoved, battered and crushed,
If one of those frozen freaks by you brushed.

Drought was as harsh if you stranded in sand,
As sidebanks shifted river and land.
Crystal and china weren't worth a buck
If you sat in the wilderness stuck in muck.

Native's fascination soon turned to dread,
When cholera and malaria floated on ships of dead.
Anglos might survive virulent small pox,
But for whole native tribes, it stopped their "clocks."

First came beaver and buffalo furriers,
"The Gold Rush" lust with its feverish couriers.
Mosquitoes a'swarmin' could drive one mad,
And Red Cloud's warriors had an effect just as bad.

Steamboats brought civilization west in crates,
At 18-cents-a-pound, freight charged by weight.
Transferring 300 tons of "drink" and cargo,
And 200 citizens to Council Bluffs and Fargo.

Steam ships could eat a cord of wood an hour,
Thirty cents a day to gain ultimate power.
Woodsmen chopped and forests disappeared
Along each turn as Missouri River veered.

Sounds like a myth, but one racer's name was La Barge,
As the legendary captain of experience in charge.
Another, at 42, Captain Grant Marsh raced 'Far West,"
Breaking "Big Muddy" records for the elkhorn crest.

If he stoked too fast, the explosion of steam
Would have made "Far West" no more than a dream.
In its brief history, 250 steamers went down,
Covered by trashy water, muddy and brown.

Captain Marsh transported Custer to Rosebud's Sioux
And brought back the wounded to Bismarck, too:
Down Bighorn, Yellowstone, to Missouri's retreat,
"Far West's" Seventh Cavalry with wounded replete.

When the railroad reached Fort Benton at last,
The era of steamboats moved into the past.
By turn-of-the-century, it was only a dream,
'Til returning next century as the gambler's team.

Its last job was placing Indians on reservations,
Studying facts about itself for future preservations.
Today, Indians and Casinos are alive on river's shores,
Reshifting cargo of wealth from "have-nots" to "mores."

The GRAND CANYON
January 30, 1997

No one had vision like John Wesley Powell
To tame the "dragon's" watery growl.
With only one arm, he entered the maze,
Enduring the impossible for so many days.

His men were tough, but not like he,
To risk their lives, a vision to see.
Each elbow of the "dragon brought" a surprise,
Either deathly fright or majesty to the eyes.

The Natives had lived here for thousands of years,
But they were smart to honor their fears,
And avoid the deadly "dragon" in his fury,
So loved ones of travelers had nothing to worry.

What Lewis and Clark began in '05,
Powell finished mapping and came out alive.
The awesome West, which white had not known,
Was charted and pictured, each river and stone.

Just like Columbus, when mutiny loomed,
Only three days from land, dispelling their doom,
Three of Powell's men climbed out instead,
To meet angry Indians who killed them dead.

The rest of the nine endured the last gorge,
To be amply rewarded for each valley and forge:
Smooth at last with water like glass,
Powell's expedition into history did pass.

SAM HOUSTON
Last Home built to look like a Steamship
Poem written March 10, 1997

Born to Elizabeth Paxton of Scotch-Irish stock,
Sam arrived March 2nd, 1793 on the clock.
The Houston family migrated in a covered wagon
From Virginia to Tennessee, their possessions a'draggin.'

Though in the middle, Sam was their favorite child,
A paradoxical blend of mild and wild.
One day, Sam up and left Maryville's family store,
Measuring calico and cutting cloth - he could take no more!

Tennessee countryside were Cherokee lands:
Sam became "The Raven" in their adoptive hands.
"In the wilderness, measuring deer tracks,"
Sam preferred to putting beans in sacks.

After three years of being an "Indian boy,"
Sam's town bill was huge for buying toy
And gift for his Cherokee family and friends;
A year as a teacher brought his debt to an end.

In the War of 1812, Sam volunteered to fight:
At Battle of Horseshoe Bend,
Andrew Jackson and Sam were tight.
Sam emerged a wounded soldier brave,
And of Jackson and Houston, the press did rave.

In 1818, Sam lawyered in Lebanon, after passing the bar;
In 1823 and '25 he served Congress in D.C. afar.
Returning from Washington to his Tennessee home,
The flamboyant, arrogant orator planned no more to roam.

Houston became governor and worked the media well;
Riding high, he married Eliza, a genteel belle,
But she ran away after merely a few weeks,
And Sam resigned as governor; Now another job he seeks.

Depressed and dejected, he felt all was lost,
'Til an eagle swooped from above as their paths crossed:
So close, it seemed to touch his hair, the eagle's run,
Mounted away into the West's "flame" and setting sun.

Mexico's Army entered Texas to stop immigration:
Houston was sent by Jackson to prevent a conflagration.
Comanche raids burned Tex and Mex at Red River's divide,
Yet Sam applied for a land grant, himself to provide.

This enflamed mexico's concern:
In 1832, Texas' Constitution lit the "burn."
From "Washington on the Brazos River,'
a Republic was drawn,
As Houston declared, "A morning of glory has dawned!"

Sam sold 4,000 acres to buy a uniform regal,
Which was interpreted by Santa Anna as an action illegal.
Houston advanced at San Jacinto's "Buffalo Bayou,"
With Texans in a killing frenzy, crying, "We defy you!"

On April 21st, 1836 the Mexicans were routed,
As "Remember the Alamo!" Texans shouted.
Houston and his horse by a bullet were hit,
Yet Santa Anna surrendered, while Sam had to sit.

Peggy Lake was red with bodies of horses, mules and men.
The next campaign was easy and President Sam did win.
Second on the Texas bill was Stephen Austin, Secretary of State,
Yet the Republic of Texas still had to reach its fate,

To become a bully-fledged state of the Union's Eagle.
Now at age 46, Sam fell hard for a lady regal:
Visiting in Alabama, he met 20-year-old Margaret Moffit lee,
The loveliest woman old Sam did ever see.

In no time, she soberred up his wild and reckless ways,
Dunked him in the Baptist Church, now on knees he prays.
The end of his days he lived a righteous family life,
Produced eight children from his young and Christian wife.

As Texas President, he served two terms,
And from '46 to '59, he was the Senator Firm:
He continued to "Nay" in the question of slavery,
Enduring Texas hatred, he showed true bravery.

Tying Texans to the East, cotton was their crop,
But Sam was a Democrat and slavery had to stop.
In spite of this, they elected him governor of the new state,
Which formed in 1845 - fouteen years he had to wait.

The fires of hatred grew as the Confederacy seceded,
But Sam told the people this was not what Texas needed.
Houston's effigy was hanged and burned,
And by 1861 for retirement he yearned.

The people for whom he gave his life
Had caused him nothing but sorrow and strife.
In his Huntsville "Steamboat House," nearly blind,
Houston died; A more colorful man you'll never find.

"Texas...Texas...Margaret..."

STEPHEN FOSTER AUSTIN
March 3, 1997

Humble, graceful, a diplomatic son,
Stephen Foster Austin helped Texas to be won.
Born in Virginia in 1793,
Schooled in Connecticut and Lexington, Kentucky.

From Transylvania College to father's lead mines,
Stephen Austin knew how the elite dines,
Until in 1820, debts were piled high:
To this way of life, father Moses said, "Good bye."

Off to Spanish territory, he ventured toward a goal,
And received a Mexican charter for 300 souls.
But sooner than later, Moses returned ill,
So son Stephen, in Louisiana, agreed to his will:
To be Empresario of "The Old 300" pioneers,
Which grew to 3500 settlers in a few short years.

Pioneers gathered around three Spanish missions,
'Til worried Mexicans grew into divisions.
Melting pot of Europe transplanted to "Tay-has,"
French, Spanish, now American under dangling moss.

On April 6, 1830, Mexico announced a ban:
No more immigrants or slaves - child or man.
This law cut off settlers from previous ties,
Families cut in two, whereby anger lies.
Tex-ians were citizens of limbo land,
Growing in leaps and bounds, hand-over-hand.

First came corn, and then sugar cane;
When cotton came along, it became their bane:
Slaves were needed as "free" cotton pickers.
And now the colony argues and bickers.

When Mexican law cut off the flow,
Away to Mexico, Stephen Austin did go
To present the Texians' common sense,
But General Santa Anna jailed him without defense.

Two years, Austin lay in a cold, clammy jail,
While Texians began to rant and rail.
"War," said Austin, "is the only choice"
Against a government that gives you no voice.

October Second, Gonzales town Commandeered
the local cannon and stood its ground.
In 1835 the Mexican government drew a line.
"Come and take it!" read the sign

Held by the Texians over the gun.
Firm they were, against unjustices done.
Texans defeated Mexicans on that day.
The result was a new constitutional way.

Delegates on March Second, 1836
Declared Independence under burning wicks.
Four days later, Santa Anna arrived
With 4,000 troops, and no Texans survived:

In 90 minutes, 183 died in Alamo's gore:
Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie and so many more.
Followed by the "Goliad Massacre's" fright
As the whole town was quickly put to flight.

But soon at San Jacinto, the tables were turned,
And Texans routed Mexicans; Their stomaches churned,
Crying "Me, no Alamo!" - the Mexicans pled,
To no avail, by Texans they were bled.

"Remember the Alamo!" became the cry:
A constitutional republic was the reason why.
With Houston as President and Austin, Secretary of State,
American forefathers had accomplished their fate.

Austin was weak from malaria and jail:
The overwhelming job had left him frail.
Pneumonia-sapped, in a cabin he died,
As Texans in the South mourned and cried.

On December 29th, his body was born
By paddleship "Yellowstone" on a Texas morn
Up the Brazos River to his final place of rest.
As Colonizer of Texas, Austin had done his best.