Sunday, October 1, 2017

Editor's Corner

October 2017

“May flowers always line your path and sunshine light your day.
May songbirds serenade you every step along the way.
May a rainbow run beside you in a sky that's always blue.
And may happiness fill your heart each day your whole life through.
- Irish Blessing” 
An appropriate beginning to bring blessings to everyone because the prevailing weather around the world has certainly brought various disasters forth upon its inhabitants. Between hurricanes, floods, forest fires, early snow storms, and earthquakes, many evacuations have been ordered in a large segment of our earth. Some warnings came too late and the losses have been mourned. Yet, authors mostly set their words to the task of cheering the hearts of others, and by doing so, encourage their own way as well. There are still things that are brought to mind by such devastation, and the steps to prevent tragedy or to empower oneself with necessary action can result.

Hence, Bud Lemire's poems "A Will" and "Dead Resident" which reflect some of Bud's good advice and are practical and timely. His "Rockin' Delta County" is in a much lighter vein.
Bruce Clifford's poems for October are "Safe Sailing," "What Will Be," and "Out of Control." Since he resides in Florida which saw much of the brunt of two hurricanes in a row last month, seems the source of his inspiration could be that weather.

John I. Blair sent these poems: "Appearances," "Greeting The Morning Sun," "Naren," "Waxing Moon," and "Hearth." The latter will warm your heart.

Some authors respond by focusing on the recognition of the beauty that still exists in each moment. Dayvid Clarkson confides his personal attempts to dwell peacefully and shares advice to help others in his column "Reflections of the Day." Judith Kroll's column "On Trek" proposes a regime of peace and love and requests same in her plea to "Dear Universe." "Introspective" discloses a medical breakthrough in China -- Thomas F. O'Neill tells all about chemical surgery to repair embryo's.

Rod Cohenour serves up a cooler weather treat with 'Pollo Poblano Chowder,' one of his wife's tried and true recipes, in"Cooking With Rod." Mattie Lennon's column "Irish Eyes" lauds an Irish Policeman and mentions a few instances as evidence.

"Armchair Genealogy" by Melinda Cohenour finishes her extensive research and compilation of the "Much Maligned Man..." who is part of your editor's and her family tree, Sidney Washington Creek.

LC Van Savage in her column "Consider This," urges everyone to elevate their outlook by improving their mindset and thinking what pretty is. She also has a story "The Saga of The Traveling Chair" this month.

The article is "Sidney Creek and Quantrell's Raiders: History from Two Perspectives" featuring a letter from Diane Creek Honstein (a cousin) seeking the "whole" story, along with John F. Walters Capsule History entitled “Quantrell’s Missouri Cavalry.” and is an interesting companion piece to the five part tale concluding in "Armchair Genealogy" this issue,

See you in November !!!

Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at and also in the blog with the capability of adding comments at the latter.

Armchair Genealogy

A Much Maligned Man: Sidney Washington Creek

Born: 13 January 1832 in Liberty, Clay County, Missouri
Died: 12 September 1892 in Liberty, Clay County, Missouri
Chapter 5 in the Life of the Much Maligned Man
1 October 2017

      For those of you who have been following the story of Sidney Washington Creek through four prior installments, this is the conclusion of the saga of his fascinating life. Following his imprisonment in Gratiot Prison in St. Louis charged as a Confederate spy caught behind enemy lines, Sid was finally paroled on 26 Aug 1863 and began his long trek from St. Louis in the southernmost part of the state to his home in the far northwest corner of Missouri. Official records documenting his life following the Civil War are sparse, relating to Census enumerations, birth records for the children born upon his return, and, sadly, the various newspaper articles reporting his untimely death.

      As a family member, your author has the advantage of being the beneficiary of various stories handed down through the generations. These tales have, unvaryingly, reported Sid as being a courageous, and kind man who loved his family and his country and who remained fiercely loyal to both. Following the War, he returned to his home and resumed his life, farming his land in Clay County, Missouri.

      It could not have been easy for Sid, as the culture of his home in Missouri had changed dramatically. Carpetbaggers had moved in from the North, taking over the banks and making laws that punished those who had fought for secession. His father Jacob “Howdyshell” (Haudenscheldt) Creek, for instance, was listed as one of the Old Men of Clay County when the Liberty Tribune sought to identify those who had been unfairly penalized for their loyalties during the War. Many were “disfranchised” or denied the right to vote. The atrocities dealt to Jacob Creek were unconscionable. Ill treatment to a man whose family moved to the land that would become Clay County before Missouri achieved statehood, whose father fought in the War of 1812, helped to civilize the county itself, served on juries where fellow jurors, judges, and counsel for both plaintiffs and defendants were populated by the kinfolk of such legendary American families as Abraham Lincoln and his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, and Thomas Jefferson. In fact Abraham Creek worked with the uncle of Abraham Lincoln to design the roadways of Clay County early in its infancy. Jacob Creek was among good company, as reflected by these extracts from the lists of the Liberty Tribune appearing below:

Liberty Weekly Tribune; Date: 1870 Jul 22,
We desire to publish a list of all the old men in Clay county over 60 years of age, and would be glad if our old patriarchs would send us their names, age, where born, how long in Missouri, and Clay county, disfranchised or not, and any other time of early history they may be in possession of. We will publish as fast as received. Send in your names. Liberty Weekly Tribune; Date: 1870 Jul 29,
We last week requested every citizen in Clay county, over sixty years of age, to send us his name, age, place and date of birth, disfranchised or not, and any prominent circumstances connected with his life. Only a few persons have complied so far. We trust the parties to whom our request was made will comply as soon as practicable. The notices will be useful in the future as matters of reference, &c. We being the publication of notices this week:
    Jacob Creek, born in Barren co., Ky., August 16th, 1805. Has lived in Clay County 48 years. Disfranchised.
    Rice B. Davenport, born in Fayette County, Ky., Jan. 10, 1797. Served in the Black Hawk War, and against the Indians in Iowa, and in the Mormon War. Has lived in Clay county forty-five years. Disfranchised.
    Charles McGee; born in Wake county, N. Carolina, in 1794; fought in Major Russell’s command in Gen. Andrew Jackson’s army in the British War of 1812. Thinks he is entitled to a pension. Has lived in Clay county fifty-three years. Of course his disfranchised!
    James Vermillion, was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, May 2nd, 1788. Emigrated to America in 1794 and settled in Rhode Island. Removed to Loudon County, Virginia, in 1810. Served in the War of 1812, was at the battles of Chippewa, Lundy’s Lane and Queenstown Heights. Was taken prisoner at Queenstown Heights. Removed to Missouri in 1849 and settled in Clay County. Was always a Whig and is one yet. Is disfranchised.
    Elder Francis R. Palmer, was born in Fairfield District, South Carolina, August 30th, 1789. Removed with his father to Sumner County, Tennessee, about the year 1795. Became a member of the Church in 1809. Was in the War of 1812 under Jackson at Pensacola and New Orleans. Was a member of a spy company. Fired on the British on the 23d, December 1814 below New Orleans. Was at the Battle of New Orleans and witnessed the entire charge of the British army. Was at his post of observation between the armies when the action began. Removed to Kentucky in 1816. Became a minister of the Gospel in 1812. Removed to Missouri in 1836 and to Clay County in 1866. So far as political action is concerned was always and still is a Democrat. At his age is still deemed unworthy to vote in a country he helped to save in 1812.

SOURCE: File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by: Ronald J. Reid July 26, 2007, 1:16 pm

      “Disfranchisement” was not the only form of oppression visited upon the former Confederates, their family members, and any others who had “aided or abetted” their activities during the War. The term “carpetbaggers” was tagged on all those Northern opportunists who swept into the South after the War with their meager belongings in satchels fabricated of carpeting material and, under the guise of patriotism to the salvaged Union, continued the self-same activities that had so polarized the South and given impetus to the willingness to risk all to save their way of life. The meager possessions for many of these scalawags soon became vast fortunes. This article about Jesse James details the manner in which the Carpetbaggers perpetrated their post-War revenge:
Reconstruction in Missouri
With the defeat of the Confederates in 1865, the James boys were forced into an oppressive way of life. Being former Bushwhackers they couldn’t vote, own property, run their own businesses or even preach in their own local churches and, perhaps most galling of all, were forced to swear an oath of allegiance to the Union. Part of Reconstruction in Missouri involved repressing former Confederate fighters and their sympathizers and the increasing dominance of Northern “carpetbaggers” who began sweeping away old ideas and reshaping Missouri in the Northern image. The carpetbaggers began steadily pushing out long-held traditions, dominating commerce and business in the enforced absence of locals who ran things before the war and were often barred from doing so afterward for their Confederate sympathies. The pre-war way of life was being squeezed out of existence at the expense of many native Missourians and their former Northern enemies were squeezing by any means available.

      Among the stories handed down through the family’s archives is this story that vividly highlights the sort of reprisals that were daily occurrences for my 3rd Great-Grandfather Jacob Creek:
Story told by Virginia A. Creek Douglas, Jacobs daughter, to her granddaughter Louella Myers.

      She told how her father was such a kind man, and he helped the southern soldiers. They fed them and let them hide out there. (In one of the books on Cole Younger it says they stayed at the Creeks)
      She told how the Northerners came and killed chickens and forced them to cook for them. Some of the men wanted to kill her father. One of the men was a neighbor who liked her father and he said "Let the OLD @#$%#$@ be, he is too old to do any harm". She said she could still remember that her father did not say a word but sat quietly and looked very pale.
       She said she never did any work until the slaves were freed. She was born in 1848 and was 13 years old before she learned to do things. Some of the slaves stayed with the family after the war and taught them how to do the chores. SOURCE: Family archives of Dianne Creek Honstein and sister, Sharlynn Creek Wamsley

      Sid Creek had paid his dues. He had fought bravely, been imprisoned, forfeited his $1,500 bond (equivalent to $21,597.49 in 2017), and now faced the difficulties of resuming his life in an oppressive atmosphere. His insistence on putting that amount of money at risk and leaving his wife and children with her family as he set off to War had angered his father-in-law, Henry Harris Estes. The seeds of dissatisfaction had been sown. Estes would provide a deposition to the Union Provost Marshall that revealed the tension between the men. This would, undoubtedly, color the relationship between Sid and his wife as they worked to rebuild their life together. In the years following his return, five daughters were born to their union, from 1865 to 1873.

      Bits and pieces of information gleaned through the months of in-depth research by your author tell a story from two divergent viewpoints: that from a family whose memories of the man are filled with love, respect, and admiration and that from a community shattered by war trying to piece together a way of life under strained circumstances who viewed Sid as one of the ‘bushwhackers’ whose activities during the War were responsible for the hardships they now faced in reprisal.

      One of the more prevalent allegations against Sid was that he was an active member of Quantrell’s band that raided Lawrence, Kansas, in retaliation for the earlier atrocities visited upon Osceola and other towns in Missouri by Jim Lane’s Redlegs who were based in Lawrence. This raid was a particularly bloody and violent event, resulting in the slaughter of some 150 men and boys of Lawrence, whether armed or not. The raid, however, is known to have occurred on 21st August 1863 and our Sidney Washington Creek was still sitting in Gratiot Prison in St. Louis awaiting his parole. That parole did not occur until 26th August 1863, some five days after the Lawrence Kansas raid.

      Although we have confirmed that Sid could not possibly have taken part in the Lawrence raid, it is certain he did join with Quantrell in the early days of the border wars with Kansas. As with all his undertakings, Sid gave his all to the effort, as evidenced by the following:

      Asked afterward to name those who fought bravest and best, ... Quantrell's answer was: "They all fought. No one ever had men to exhibit more coolness and daring." When pressed further to single out a few, he named Tuck Hill… Jarrette, … Cole Younger, … Sid Creek, ...and a score of others who formed what might be called the Old Guard. SOURCE: "Noted Guerrillas" by John N. Edwards

      Sid’s great great granddaughter, Sharlynn Creek Wamsley, wrote in an email to your author, “As Louella points out in her book on p109 “Losers of the war are not heroes except to their family.” We are family. I have a strong feeling that the Mosby incident in 1860 had a lot to do with the sour reputation that Sid had to battle (and why his name has been vilified more than so many others in the same situation) He was a large (6’5” I saw somewhere) good looking successful man with strong ethics that he would not sell to the EMM. It was reading the ‘hate’ letter that has led me to some of this line of thinking.” This is further illustrated by an anecdote provided by Virginia A. Creek Wade, Sidney’s sister, who used to tell stories to her granddaughter, Louella Myers. Here is one that helps to describe not only his courage but also illustrates his size (which might also have been an element that engendered fear or dislike):

      She told how brave Sidney was. They use to get behind anything to fight during the unrest of the Civil War. A group were lying down and fighting and he saw a wagon. He pulled it over to them and turned it over so they all could get behind it to shoot. So he did fight.

      Another possible source of the stigma that seemed to cling to Sid was the issue of his son Beau.

      Ellen Craig, daughter of Lee Reynolds, niece of Emma Reynolds Creek (Emma was Sid’s daughter-in-law): “Sid was often time there too, with Beau in some of his escapades.”

      Ongoing research has revealed that Beau Creek’s activities ultimately resulted in his imprisonment in the Illinois State Prison at Joliet. Per records, he was received at Joliet on 13 Jul 1894, register number 3476, under identification of S B Creek, age 32 years, from Kane County, Illinois, charged with murder. He was transferred from Kane County, but was found guilty of murder in April 1894 in DuPage County, Illinois. His sentence was commuted by Governor Edward Fitzsimmons Dunne 29 Sep 1913 (effective 1 Oct 1913) due to severe health issues. Beau was tubercular and partially paralyzed, with a myriad of horrific medical complications. The Governor announced he had released him to “die outside of the penitentiary.”

      This close alliance with a son whose “escapades” escalated to murder – as foreshadowed by the history of Sid’s own killing of Bernard Mosby years earlier – certainly led to whispers and contempt from many. Gossip seldom sticks to the facts but tends to shade them, a practice that has ruined more than one person’s reputation. Interestingly, the fight that resulted in Mosby’s death, took place in 1860. Only a couple of years earlier in 1858, another incident occurred which is indicative of some type of ongoing feud. A researcher with the Clay County Library archives, Mr. John Perney, in correspondence with your author supplied this tidbit:

      I have one last anecdote on Mr. Creek. In 1858, Mr. Creek filed a civil suit for damages against a livery stable in Liberty, Missouri. Mr. Creek claims in his filing that he stabled his mule with the livery stable and, when he returned later on, found that his mule had been killed. The filing states that the mule only had one wound, a deep, killing wound to the center of the forehead, such as would be inflicted by an ax. Unfortunately, the files do not include the defendant Stable owner's reply to the charge and this is another case where the court's ruling cannot be found.

      Legal affairs often lead to continuing animosity as well. The Liberty Tribune published the following notice on Aug 22, 1873 - Liberty Tribune provides no clue as to the reason nor the potential disagreements but, clearly, some legal matter triggered this:

      Sheriff’s sale in partition – Jackson and Jefferson Estes, Wm. H. Pence, Lucinda and Sidney Creek, John and Emaline Corum – against – Elaine Courtney, Archibald Courtney, Jefferson, William H. Jr., Josiah, Lucinda, America, Robert Y., Emeline E., Harris E., and Adam Pence.

      And, so, we turn to the most heartbreaking aspect of this story: the end of the marriage between Sid and Lucinda Estes Creek. For Lucinda filed for divorce against Sid in 1883. They were married in 1852, lived through so many difficult times, yet showed an incredible fortitude and a sincere desire to honor their vows for all those many years. Thirty-one years, ten children born, establishing a farm, enduring the trials and tribulations of War and the post-War indignities only to have their marriage dissolve. It is truly known that lawyers are “hired guns” and have the obligation to do what they can to obtain the desires and needs of their clients. And that may well answer to the harsh slant of the petition for divorce filed on Lucinda’s behalf. Sid was, apparently, out of state at the time. The petition claims abusive behavior and pleads for the sole custody of their minor children. This was granted. Lucinda and the girls remained in Clay County, Lucinda having been a lifelong resident.

      In 1891, Lucinda passed away. She was buried next to the plot set aside for Sid in the family plot at Old Liberty Cemetery and her headstone reads “wife of S W Creek.”

          Lucinda Estes Creek
      The minor daughters were, by then, of age and most had married or were being courted by the young men who would become their husbands. One of those marriages would not bode well for the bride nor for her family.

      Sidney had a daughter named Jennie, married to a man named Joseph Hamilton. Her husband used to beat her. Sid told him "If you ever lay a hand on her again I will beat you within an inch of your life." The son-in-law didn't doubt for a minute that he meant what he said. Grandma said he was a huge man and brave. Well, the old boy beat the daughter and Sidney started for him and told him what he was going to do. The son-in-law pulled a gun and said, "If you come closer I will shoot." Sid did, and so did the son-in-law. Grandma said the bullet went through his heart and he went to the ceiling and dropped dead. Jennie stayed with her husband during the trial and divorced him while he was serving prison time.

      I am sure this is a true story and sure that my Grandmother thought she was telling it to a little girl that would never remember it. SOURCE: Letter from Lou Myers in 1985, text provided by Sharlynn Creek Wamsley

      Word of mouth is much like that old party game called “Rumors” where details become fuzzy and are transmitted with slight variations, but the family lore in this instance is very clear on the important issue: Joe Hamilton was a drunk and when he drank he beat his wife. Details vary, but the salient facts are that Sid’s daughters and their significant others joined him, his lady friend Mrs. Davis and her friend at the annual Democratic picnic. Rain concluded the festivities. Sid and the two ladies had tickets to board a train for the ladies’ hometown of St. Louis. Some time between the pleasant picnic and family time together, and before Sid and the ladies could board the train, word got back to Sid that Joe was drunk and was beating on Jennie again. Sid detoured from the train to make sure his daughter was okay. The confrontation that ensued resulted in his death. Contrary to the statement above that the “bullet entered his heart”, the coroner’s report is that the bullet entered Sid’s left lip and angled slightly upward, exiting through the back of his head. His death was instantaneous – a blessing for all of us who have come to love, honor, and respect the man.

      Versions of this tragic event have been shared with your author. Included is an article from the Liberty Tribune, generously shared by John Perney (see photo attached to read that version). From the newspaper article it would appear that Sid had succumbed to partaking of too much drink in his later years, another issue that must have led to the ‘numerous incidents’ over the years necessitating the witness testimony that “Pa had not been drinking” also included in the newspaper article.

      The testimony of the perpetrator given as defense reveals a tawdry aspect of the marriage between Joe and Jenny: They were wed 20 Jul 1889. Joe testifies:

      “I was married to a daughter of Creek’s in July 1889. Creek and I had some trouble shortly after I married over the building of a fence. He got after me with a shot gun. I went to Illinois and stayed two years, returning last December. We had some trouble last March and he has been imposing on me ever since, threatening to “fix me.”

      From this testimony, we see a miserable marriage for our poor Jenny. In three years, Joe has abandoned the marital abode for two of those years, and in the remaining part of one year has repeatedly abused Jenny and now murdered her father!

      Mr. Perney was kind enough to also share with me his transcription of the testimony of the key witness in the trial of Joseph Hamilton, Mrs. Geib. It should be noted that inclusion of this newspaper article found by my cousin Dianne Creek Honstein inspired her to provide a slightly different version of the shooting, still indicative of the slight contrasts between family lore and statements offered as testimony:

      Hi, Cousin. It's me, Dianne. I've had this article for quite a while now, but it makes me angry every time I read it. The media was so slanted even back then. Sid's sister Virginia was adamant about what really happened, and recounted it many times to her granddaughter, Louella Meyers, who told the story to my sister and me. Joe Hamilton beat his wife, Sid's daughter. Sid told him that if he did it again, he'd kill him. Joe got drunk at the fair and started beating on his wife. Two women attending the fair saw him hitting her and went to get Sid and brought him there to protect his daughter. When Joe saw him coming, the coward shot and killed him. Big difference from how the newspaper made it sound.

                             Sid Creek Death - Liberty Tribune - 1891
      I have attached a copy of a detailed article about the shooting from the Liberty, MO Tribune of 9/16/1892. (I apologize for the poor quality of the copy of the newspaper article, it comes off of an early microfilm spool and printed off an equally aged printing device!)

      The article contains a reporter's version of Mrs. Geib's testimony. Pasted below is my transcription of her testimony I found in the actual Coroner's Inquest file at the Clay County Archives. They're not exact, but, are pretty close.
Testimony of Mrs. Geib at the Inquest into the death of Sidney W. Creek

      Mrs. Hamilton came in (to the kitchen) and said that Joe and Pa were fussing and Jennie told me that her Pa was angry and will kill Joe if he says anything to him.
      I came into the room (where the men were). When I came in they were fussing at one another. I told them (Joe and Sidney) not to make noise or a fuss in my house or I would have them arrested. I pushed Joe down in a chair.
       Joe said: “Mrs. Geib, I would not raise a fuss here for nothing, but, the old man has made so much trouble. I can’t stand it.”
      Mr. Creek said to me: “I would not raise a fuss in your house for anything.”
      I said: “Mr. Creek you need not go. Sit down, I want to talk to you about the picnic and what you had good to eat there”. Then, Jennie said: “No Pa, don’t you go.” Mr. Creek said: “Well”.
      Jennie said to Mr. Creek: “Don’t pay any attention to Joe, he is drinking. Sit here and talk awhile.”
      All this time Mr. Creek was walking back and forth. I asked him to take a seat, Mr. Creek said: “No, it is close to train time when I should go.” He was going to Kansas City with a lady.
      Joe said: “Let him go.” I walked over to where Joe was sitting and said: “Now Joe, you just hush.”
      Mr. Creek said: “No, I will go.” I asked Mr. Creek not to go.
      Jennie said: “No, it is too early.”
      Joe said to the old man: “I don’t want you to bother me, you have bothered me so much. I am getting tired of it. You don’t scare me.”
      Mr. Creek walked near Joe with his back to me and said something to Joe that I didn’t catch.
      Joe then said: ”Let the old son of a bitch go”. Then the old man turned and stepped back one step. Joe then raised up out of his chair and the old man faced him with his hand on his hip.
      Joe said: “I know you would like to kill me”.
      The old man said: “Kill you? Why you ain’t worth killing you dirty no account.”
      Joe said: “Yes, you old son of a bitch, If I had done as much thieving, robbing and murdering as you have then I would say nothing!”
      The old man had started to leave, but, then turned back and said: “What’s that?”
      Joe said: “You are a thief and a murderer and I can prove it on you! You should have been killed thirty years ago, you old son of a bitch!” “You bothered pretty near every one of your daughters and their husbands.”
      Just then the old man – it was done quickly – the old man came back into the room. Joe was trying to get his hand down into his pocket. The old man took another step and looked at Joe. The old man had his hand in his pocket and kept moving it around there, like he was trying to get a pistol out.
      I was trying to hold Joe back.
      Joe said: “Let me go, I’m not going to let the old son of a bitch go.”
      Joe jerked a pistol out; Mr. Dobbins tried to stop him. I thought the old man had one too and I jumped out of the way, and then Joe shot.
      The old man never spoke a word but just fell down, there was some sound like his breath coming out and he was dead.
      Mrs. Hamilton was yelling: “Joe! You’ve shot Pa!”

      As a footnote to his email to your author, Mr. Perney advised research had determined that Mr. Hamilton was convicted of second degree murder and sentenced to ten years, but was paroled after serving only seven years. No record of Mr. Hamilton has been found subsequent to his release. While incarcerated, Jennie filed for divorce, as duly reported in the Liberty Tribune – primary news source for Liberty, Clay County, Missouri:

Liberty Tribune; Feb. 15, 1895
Jennie Hamilton, wife of Joseph Hamilton, is suing for divorce in the circuit court. Hamilton is serving a term in the penitentiary for killing her father, Sid Creek.

      It has been an interesting trip! Sid was no ordinary man and his life was anything but ordinary. Much like our Younger and Dalton cousins' lives, his was centered on the dramatic, sometimes wonderful and sometimes awful, events that once divided our great country. He was the eldest brother to my 2nd great-grandfather Absalom Creek, being already twelve years of age when Absalom was born. Every moment spent researching a family member is precious to me. An opportunity to come to know not only the person, but the circumstances in which that person fulfilled their life's ambitions, and experienced their greatest moments of happiness, and how they dealt with the most tragic of events

Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.

Cooking With Rod

Melinda’s Pollo Poblano Chowder

Aaah! The Fall Season is upon us and my taste buds call out for Spice! Heat! Color! And, so, time to call upon my lovely bride to offer up one of my favorite recipes she created a few years ago to fulfill those desires. Her Pollo Poblano Chowder, sure to fill that empty void while satisfying the eye, the need for spice, and making one call out for “More! More! Ole!”

Welcome to Autumn! The best time of the year for warm food, fun festivities, and feasts fit for kings – all in the manner I love – Nuevo Mexico!

Bon appetit~!


Melinda’s *Pollo Poblano Chowder

Melinda Cohenour – originated July 27, 2013
  • 3-4 boneless skinless Chicken breasts, grilled and diced
  • 2 large Poblano peppers, blackened, skinned, de-seeded and diced
  • 2 lg. Onions, diced
  • 4-5 stalks Celery, diced
  • 3-4 Carrots, sliced very thin (dimed)
  • 1-2 lg. Bell Peppers, diced
  • 2-3 cloves garlic, minced
  • ½ c Flour
  • 1 stick Butter – split in half
  • 2 Tbsp vegetable oil (non-flavored)
  • 1 tsp black pepper or to taste
  • ½ tsp cumin
  • 2 Tbsp water
  • 1 qt whole Milk (can use chicken broth or stock)
  • 2 c heavy Cream
  • 2 c Corn kernels (fresh from cob, canned and drained or whole frozen)
  • 1 can Cream of Cheddar soup
  • Fresh Cilantro, for garnish
  • Shaved Cheddar and Pepper Jack, for garnish
  • 1 bunch Green Onion, sliced thin, for garnish
  • Sour Cream, for garnish
    Rinse, dry, season and grill chicken breasts. Permit to cool, then dice. Set aside.
    Blacken Poblano pepper on all sides, place in plastic bag while still warm, let set a few minutes, then remove tough outer skin, split open, de-stem, de-seed and dice. Set aside.
    In large pot on medium heat, melt half stick of butter, add vegetable oil. When pan is hot, add onion and bell pepper and permit to caramelize. When onions are transparent, add carrot, celery and garlic. Stir and season with pepper. Sprinkle about a tablespoon of the flour over vegetables and stir. Do not permit to burn.
    Add remaining butter and stir to melt. To remaining flour add 2 Tbsp water and whisk. Add this roux to pot and stir. Heat and stir at least one minute to permit roux to cook. Season with pepper and cumin. Add milk (or chicken broth) and heavy cream to pot, stir. Lower heat and permit chowder to simmer until carrots are softened. Stir occasionally to prevent scorching. Chowder should thicken.
    Add chicken, Poblano pepper and corn. Permit to heat thoroughly. Then add cream of cheddar soup. Stir well.
    Serve with hot flour and corn tortillas, Tortilla chips, butter and garnish offerings of cilantro leaves, shaved cheeses, green onion and sour cream. Salad and iced tea finish this meal nicely.
* pol·lo ˈpoi-ō,ˈpälō/ noun; chicken (as used in the names of Italian, Spanish, or Mexican dishes).

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Reflections on the Day

      For your life to be as meaningful as possible, engage in spiritual practice if you can. It is nothing more than acting out of concern for others. If you practice sincerely and with persistence, little by little, step by step you will gradually reorder your habits and attitudes so as to think less about your own narrow concerns and more about others' – and thereby find peace and happiness yourself.

      Sometimes I lose sight of this wonderful and miraculous world that I live in. Sometimes it is important to take a few minutes and reconnect with this unexplainable fantastic journey that we are on. Between transferring patients, I do have some wait time.

      I have a few spots that I find recharge me. This picture was taken at Swy a Lana lagoon in Nanaimo. (See pic below) Here is how I reconnected. I noticed that the plant had leaves with what appeared to be the imprints of feathers on them. I wondered how the plant formed them and in what order. How did it know when to change colours or end the feather tips. Each plant is individual so it cannot be inherent. Decisions had to be made. The geraniums presented the same intricate but unique patterns. I did not let the majesty of this rumination cause me to close my mind and not allow my thoughts to go further. By accepting the unexplainable without due consideration will not lead you any closer to your authentic self.

       Do not accept common knowledge without examine the phenomena for yourself. Travel with the plants, pay attention, and focus on what is happening around you. And as that plant was perfect at that moment so was I. We both knew we would change but at that moment we were both creations of this divine intelligence.

      The mist gently rolls in across the lake and wraps me in a serene embrace. To some, the mists are troubling, swirling, disconcerting, and ever-changing. The mist is the mist. How we perceive it is how we were taught. When we release what we were taught then we can see the true essence of the mist. The mist is the mist. When we unlearn we release all preconceived notions of what should be and see what is truly there.

      I humbly knock upon the door of the dream realm. A quiet voice intones, “Welcome dear one. Enter with an open heart and open mind.” I sense it is time for a new adventure, to learn a new language, to hear the stories of my dreams. My soul fills knowing that this wondrous voyage will never end. It is both serene and exciting at the same time. I will let go of the outcome not trying to control. I will let the Divine guide my steps. Yes, I will falter, yet will not chastise myself for my stumbles. I will arise each time and learn to love myself more. My wish for you is an open heart and open mind. As a wheel has many spokes please know they all lead to the center.

       Sleep well, dream deep my Friends. Humble bow, Dayvid

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Irish Eyes

The Story of A Brave Irish Policeman

“ In An Garda Siochana . . . loyalty is prized over Honesty.”--Judge Peter Smithwick.

      Since I saw you last I attended two nights of culture at its best; singing, music and storytelling, at Blessington, County Wicklow and Brittas, County Dublin. I also read a book which should appear on the bestsellers list. If it doesn’t there is something wrong somewhere.

      Whistle-blowers and some Gardaí always got a bad press. Whistle-blowers were called “squealers”, “Stool-Pigeons”, “rats” and many more uncomplimentary names. It’s not long ago since the editor of a provincial paper wrote in an Editorial, “Those are the same sort of people who would slip in through the back door of the RIC barracks in the dead of night to inform on their neighbours in more turbulent times. They are the poisoned possessors of little minds. . .”

       Acclaimed writer Stan Gebler Davis wrote, “Policemen, as a rule, are not very bright; if they were they wouldn’t be policeman.”

      One of the most famous whistle-blowers of recent times is Garda Sergeant Maurice McCabe. His story is told in a recently published book “A Force for Justice” by award-winning journalist Michael Clifford. Michael was Print Journalist of the Year in 2014 and Newspaper Industries Journalist of the Year 2016. He has written many non-fiction bestsellers and crime fiction novels.

       Maurice McCabe didn’t set out to be a whistleblower but he did set out, from a very young age, to be a Garda. As a twelve-year old schoolboy he made that clear. When his class were given an exercise to map out their lives from the cradle to the grave young Maurice made it clear that he was “ . . . going to be the head of the Guards one day.” Calvin Harris said, “When I was eight I wanted to be a policeman so that I could tell people off.” Maurice McCabe didn’t want to be able to tell people off. He wanted to be a good cop who would do things right and make Ireland and the world a better place. His first application was rejected because he was an eighth of an inch too small. On the second application he was deemed “too light to serve.”

       Tenacity and cohesion won the day ; he was accepted on the third attempt and in August 1985 Maurice McCabe walked into the Garda Training College in Templemore, County Tipperary. In 1999 he was promoted to the rank of Sergeant. As a sergeant in County Cavan he found the incompetence and corruption too much. In 2008 he complained about shoddy and inadequate investigations into serious crime in County Cavan. He paid a big price. A rough ride lay ahead of him. He was at the receiving end of vilification, bullying and harassment. Some of his subordinates turned against him. Commissioner Martin Callinan publically described his actions as “disgusting.” When I saw the clip on television I asked myself, “Is this the sort of statement we should expect from a two-time graduate of the FBI National Academy in Quantico, Virginia.” Later Superintendent David Taylor admitted to Maurice, “ We wanted to destroy you.”

       When Maurice McCabe’s detractors referred to him as a “stickler” it wasn’t meant as a compliment but all right-thinking people know that it means a person who insists on doing the right thing, and insists that others do it, unyieldingly.

      In 2002 a penalty points system was introduced for a number of motoring offences, the most prominent being speeding. This system along with the establishment of the Road Safety Authority in 2006 led to a incredible reduction in road deaths. When Sergeant Maurice McCabe discovered that a large number of Fixed Charge Notices were being cancelled by senior officers he did some digging. The results have been well documented . He showed that he was not part of the “blue glue” which enabled Gardai to stick together when they closed ranks.

       On World Day of Remembrance for Road Traffic Victims, 20th November 2016, Sergeant Maurice McCabe was presented with the ambassador of the Year Award for Road Safety and Road Victims. When the brave sergeant stepped up the microphone he said, “ I tried to make a difference and I think I have.”
Martin Callinan

      Martin Callinan retired in 2014 and his successor, Commissioner Noreen O Sullivan, retired in August 2017. The commission on the Future of Policing in Ireland has warned the government not to appoint a new commissioner too quickly. It could be six months before the next commissioner is appointed. But what sort of a person do we want in the position? Sunday Independent journalist Eoghan Harris put it in a nutshell, ” What the Garda needs right now is a fearless Irish cop cut from the same cloth as Maurice McCabe”.

      Maurice McCabe and his family have traveled a horrific journey and Michael Clifford brings the reader every step of the way with them.

       “ A Force for Justice” is published by Hachette Books Ireland and details are available from Sharon Plunkett at;

      See you in November

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On Trek

May each of us fill ourselves with love. True love, and let it shine. Once filled with love, we will love each other, animals, the earth. We will no longer need to hate,hurt or destroy to have the peace we all seek. 

Dear Universe

We pray for rain to stop the fires, and sun to stop the floods,
For love to stop the greed and brotherhood to stop the blood.

When will it end, who can pull the plug
Why are the “leaders” acting rather smug.

Did compassion lose it's meaning somewhere along the way?
Is it more about the game some people wanna play?

Send our energy of love, of goodness of all things great
Eliminate the power that generates hate

Be a force that generates LOVE and PEACE
Let's shine the EARTH with light so bright,
'Til darkness is gone, nothing to fight,

Keep the positive, keep our right -
To a happy life.

©9-6-2017 Judith Kroll
Writings of Judith September 6 at 12:50pm ·

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In the world’s first, Chinese’s researches in China, have performed precise "chemical surgery" on human embryos to remove disease.

      Out of the three billion "letters" of our genetic code a team of researchers at Sun Yat-sen University used a technique called base editing to correct a single error.

      They altered lab-made embryos to remove the disease beta-thalassemia. The embryos were not implanted.

      The team says the approach may one day treat a range of inherited diseases. This research is on the forefront of locating inherited errors and correcting them chemically.

      Base editing alters the fundamental building blocks of DNA: the four bases adenine, cytosine, guanine and thymine.

      They are commonly known by their respective letters, A, C, G and T.

      All the instructions for building and running the human body are encoded in combinations of those four bases.

      According to the researchers the potentially life-threatening blood disorder beta-thalassemia is caused by a change to a single base in the genetic code - known as a point mutation. These point mutations cause many life threatening inherited disorders.

      The team in China have discovered a way to edit them back.

      The researchers scanned the DNA for the error in the disease beta-thalassemia then converted a G to an A, correcting the genetic fault.

      The team of researchers are the first to demonstrate the feasibility of curing genetic disease in human embryos by the base editor system.

      The study opens new avenues for treating patients and preventing babies being born with beta-thalassemia, and other inherited diseases.

      The experiments were performed in tissues taken from a patient with the blood disorder and in human embryos made through cloning. Their research is revolutionizing science using base editing an advance on a form of gene-editing known as Crispr.

      When the body tries to repair a genetic break, it deactivates a set of instructions called a gene. It is also an opportunity to insert new genetic information into the gene.

      Base editing works on the DNA bases themselves to convert one into another. The researchers describe the approach as "chemical surgery".

      The new technique is more efficient and has fewer unwanted side-effects than Crispr. They have stated that about two-thirds of known human genetic variants associated with disease are point mutations. Base editing has the potential to directly correct, or reproduce for research purposes, many pathogenic mutations.

      The research group at Sun Yat-sen University in Guangzhou hit the headlines before when they were the first to use Crispr on human embryos.

      Some Americans are critical of the Chinese researchers and question why they did not do more animal research before jumping to human embryos.

      The critics are also using the Chinese scientific advancements as the latest example of the rapidly growing ability of scientists to manipulate human DNA. It provokes deep ethical and societal debates about what is and is not acceptable in efforts to prevent disease.

      The critics are now calling for international regulations to be put in place on how future research is conducted on human embryos. In the meantime, there will be far more debates, covering the ethics, and how this genetic research on the human genome should be regulated.

      In many countries, including China, mechanisms do need to be established for regulation, and for long-term oversight on how genetic research is being conducted on a global scale.

      But I suppose only time will tell …….
    Always with love from Suzhou, China
    Thomas F O’Neill
    WeChat - Thomas_F_ONeill
    U.S. voice mail: (800) 272-6464
    China Cell: 011-86-15114565945
    Skype: thomas_f_oneill
    Other articles, short stories, and commentaries by Thomas F. O'Neill can be found on his award winning blog, Link:
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Sidney Creek and Quantrell's Raiders: History from Two Perspectives

    In 1994, my cousin Dianne Honstein ordered materials to assist her in researching our shared family history, particularly as it had to do with the Civil War. One of the published works she reviewed was entitled “Capsule History of Quantrell’s Missouri Cavalry” written by John F. Walters. (This Capsule History follows her letter below) Upon receipt she was dismayed by what she read. Actually, she tells the story best. Thus, with her permission, I shall transcribe her letter to Mr. Walters in its entirety:

    (Written from Ft. Morgan, Colorado, on 21 January 1994 by Dianne Honstein)
Dear Mr. Walter (sic),

    Today I received your “Capsule History of Quantrell’s Missouri Cavalry”. Thank you for your prompt reply. As I can see, the roster that would be of greatest interest to me should be included in an “Official History”, which I would like to order.

    It is a fact that the winners write the history books. I noted that your data came “by examining Federal sources only.” I really had not anticipated this obvious bias in what should have been an objective history. Please hear me out, as I can see that you are rightly proud of your knowledge, and I do not wish to offend you.

    I was born and raised in LA, with no knowledge of my father’s ancestry. I had a vague assurance growing up that in the Civil War the North was right and just, and the South was bad, and therefore, they lost. In about 1984, when I was 38, my Dad challenged my sister and me to find out something of his history. What he knew of it he never told us, though he had lived with his grandmother Emma Reynolds. She remembered many things from the 1860’s, including seeing Lincoln ride through town on horseback when she was a child. (The same Lincoln who conducted opinion polls on slavery before he announced a stand.) I know that she told him family remembrances, but even after we showed him extensive, documented findings back to the 1500’s, he did not tell us what he knew. The amazing fact I learned from his not sharing his knowledge of his history with us is that one hundred and thirty years later, the prejudice against the South and the shame of losing lingers on.

    Suddenly I had a Confederate history. I decided I needed to do some research and see what kind of people my people had been.

    They were Lees, Youngers, Purcells, Reynolds, Creeks, Daltons, and Estes’s. They were legislators, governors, farmers, and businessmen. They had a history in this country from the North Eastern shore of the Chesapeake in the 1600’s, where court was even held in their ancestor’s home. Letters written by, and documents signed by, family members are today in our government’s archives. Their Grandfather Joshua Younger fought in the Revolution and went with Lewis and Clarke. He had a Kentucky land grant signed by George Washington. Their father fought beside Daniel Boon. (sic) They were of the wealthiest families in Missouri, having bred, raised, trained and raced the finest horses in the country. This yielded also a wealth of Southern principles and social graciousness. They were of well educated and historically prominent ancestry. They were Southern gentlemen.

    So what happened? Because of their social prominence, they got a great deal of media attention, of which the Union version survived, and the Confederate view suffocated.

    The Jayhawkers, or Redlegs, were vicious and unprincipled. They were the first to raid along the Kansas-Missouri border. Quantrill, a teacher, was traveling with his brother from Maryland to California. The young men were camped for the night at Cottonwood, KS, when a group of Jayhawkers attacked them and murdered Quantrill’s brother, and severely wounded him. They stole everything and left Quantrill to slowly die next to his brother in the woods. Three days later, an Indian found Quantrill, buried his brother, took him to his home, and cared for him. After a six month recovery, Quantrill took a teaching position in a local school, and paid the Indian for his care. He then went to Lawrence.

    The unit that had attacked Quantrill and murdered his brother was there, a part of the regiment under Col. Jim Lane. This was about in 1857 – 1858. Quantrill joined this Union group as Charles Hart, a scout. For approximately three years he sought out and somehow assured the death of all but two of the men who had murdered his brother. This done, he left the Lane regiment. I’m enclosing a couple of pages from the book Quantrell and His Guerilla Band.

    The Creeks, Youngers, and Daltons were cousins. This was their “home turf” that the Jayhawkers were raiding. Quantrill was a commissioned officer in the area by this time, and they joined him to create a Confederate Cavalry unit. In their battles, they were proud, even vain, of their courtesy to women, and of their consideration of the old men. They did not ‘murder and rape’, but fought an invading army, and bands of raiders, in order to protect their homes, families and friends. In what I have read, the Jayhawkers were cruel and merciless from the beginning, molesting and threatening the women, and frequently hanging the old men. Retaliation was in order.

    The Federal Union troops burned them out of their homes; confiscated their land, imprisoned their mothers and sisters, murdered their fathers by ambush, and disenfranchised them, as well as anyone who gave them shelter or aid. They could no longer even support themselves. The Federal government had taken all that they had. In turn, they took it back. They weren’t robbing stores or homes. They weren’t highwaymen. They robbed Federal banks, and trains carrying Federal monies, retrieving that which was ‘stolen’ from them.

    It was WAR, for Pete’s sake, and even back then, this was a media event. I can understand the slant of the press at that time, but you would think that after all this time and in our age of liberal social justifications the labeling and the retelling of these stories would have become, at the least, more objective. “Terrorized the region”? “Carrying on”? “Frequent murders”? “Unauthorized raids”? “Deserted his unit”? “Of the same type as their leader”?

    You might see where this bias could be considered offensive, and affect sales of your reports to those with ancestral connections to the Confederacy.

    But, as a surgical nurse, I think I can pare down the ‘halo-words’, the adjectives which totally deny the ideals, the gentleness, the honor, the bravery and the devastation experienced and passed down by my great-great Grandfather Sidney Washington Creek, and gather from your text the information I am looking for. My analytical training will allow me to do this, but my DNA has compelled me to take this last hour-and-a-half to express my thoughts to you.

    History is wonderful, isn’t it? It’s fascinating, especially when you have personal ties to the past. We do share a common interest. I do hope I haven’t offended you, and that when possible you might consider reporting your histories from a broader source, or give a thought to a more objective perspective. But I am glad and appreciative to find someone like you who has taken the time and great effort to compile our history so it is accessible, not lost or buried. I can’t imagine the research and indexing you have done. I hope to get through my recent find, a first edition of The Lost Cause: a New History of the War of the Confederates, Edward Pollard, 1866. It’s hard to get through, and is not indexed. But I will, I will. I do admire the work you are doing.

    Enclosed please find my check for $37.50 for an “Official History” of Quantrells Missouri Cavalry.

    Thank you for your time.

    Dianne Creek Honstein
Transcript of letter written 21 Jan 1994, by Dianne Honstein To John F. Walters in reprisal for his published work entitled “Quantrell’s Missouri Cavalry.”
Submitted by Melinda Cohenour with permission
Here is the info Diane Creek Honstein referenced as copied for clarity of reading from the PDF he sent her.


   Without a doubt the most notorious band of men to see service during the Civil War was the group known as Quantrell's Missouri Cavalry. The unit terroized large regions of Missouri and along the Kansas-Missouri border for a great part of the War, carrying on - along with more strictly military type operations and duties - frequent robberies, murders, and unauthorized raids.

   The unit, sometimes designated as a regiment but, in actuallity only a battalion, fought under the Confederate flag for the early part of its career. Later, bowever, when its activities grew so far out of bounds, this protection offered was withdrawn by Confederate authorities and the unit served in a capacity not much above a group of outlaws.

   William Clarke Quantrell, the unit's organizer and commanding officer, had seen a great deal of service during the Kansas Troubles of the late 1850's. When the War broke out he served in a small cavalry company, taking part in the Battle of Wilson's Creek, Missouri, in late summer of 1861. When this company disbanded Quantrell served briefly as a private in a regular Missouri mounted regiment but soon deserted and returned to the Blue Springs region of Missouri. There, possibly because of a raid conducted by Kansas Jayhawkers on the home of a friend, Quantrell decided to organize a unit to serve behind Federal lines.

   Sometime in late October, 1861, be was commissioned a Captain in the Confederate Army. His band at this time numbered only about fifty followers. No official records exist to show that he was ever officially promoted over the rank of Captain but he later often styled himself Major or Colonel. By the time his band committed its most infamous act, the sack of Lawrence, Kansas in August, 1863, the size of the group had risen to more than four hundred and fifty men.

   Included among these were men like "Bloody" Bill Anderson, Arch Clements, and George Todd, all of whom would break with Quantrell in the following months and lead bands of their own, each almost equally notorious. Frank and Jesse James, Bob and Cole Younger, and others who would, following the War, become infamous in their own rights as bank or train robbers and killers, served with Quantrell. But, because so many members of the group were of the same type as their leader, dissension and dissatisfaction were frequent in the group and, by the end of the war, when Quantrell had crossed the Mississippi River heading east with a plan to kidnap or kill President Abraham Lincoln, fewer than thirty men remained with him. Although the unit served side by side by regular Confederate forces, even sometimes after it was no longer considered part of the Confederate Army, no records have been found to indicate that it was ever assigned to any specific higher command.

   By examining Federal sources only, it would appear that the unit took part in hundreds of Skirmishes, raids, etc. during the War. So great was the fear of the band that large numbers of events were laid at the doings of Quantrell 's hand. While it is true that the group frequently served in small detachments and saw service over a fairly large geographic area, many engagements Federal sources claim to have been fought against Quantrell were actually attributable to other similar guerrilla organizations.

   A careful examination of both official and unofficial records show that Ouantrell' s Missouri Cavalry participated in more than (missing words) various type engagements. These are identified below. Numbers after the events locate them on the map following this history.

Skirmish, Little Sante Fe, Mo.Nov. 21, 1861
   Expedition to Blue Springs, Mo. (1)Jan. 29 - Feb. 3, 1862
Skirmish, Independence, Mo. (2)Feb. 18, 1862
Skirmish, Independence, Ho. (2)Feb. 22, 1862
Skirmish near Aubrey, Kan. (3) March 12, 1862
Skirmish, Little Sante Fe , (detachment)March 22, 1862
Skirmish, Post Oak Creek, Mo (4 ) (detachment )March 22, 1862
Skirmish, Independence , Mo. (2) (detachment )March 22, 1862
Skirmish, Gouge ' s Mill, Mo. March 26, 1862
Skirmish, Pink Hill, Mo. (detachment )March 31, l862
Skirmish, Little Sni, Mo. (detacnment )April 1, 1862
Skirmish, Little Blue River, Mo. (5)April 12, 1862
Skirmish, Santa Fe Road, Mo.April 14, 1862
Skirmish, Independence, Mo. (2)May 16, 1862
    Operations about Miami (6 ) and Waverly (7), Mo. and
SkirmishesMay 25 - 28, 1862
Skirmish, Little Blue, Jackson County, Mo. (5)June 2, 1862
Skirmish near Sedalia, Mo. (8)June 5, 1862
Skirmish, Eminence, Mo. (9)June 17, 1862
Skirmish, Raytown, Mo. (10)June 23, 1862
Skirmish, Pleasant Hill, Mo. (11)July 8, 1862
Skirmish, Lot of Peach Farm on Sugar Creek near Wadesburg , Mo. (?)July 9, 1862
Skirmish , Clinton, Mo. (12 )July 9, 1862
Skirmishes, Search Big Creek Bluff near Pleasant Hill, Mo. (11)July 11, 1862
Skirmish , lake water near Columbus, Mo (13)July 23, 1862
Action, Independence, Mo. (2)Aug. 11, 1862
    Operations against the Expedition to Hickory Grove, Mo.(14)Aug. 17 - 27' 1862
Skirmish, Hickory Grove, Mo. (14)Aug. 23, 1862.
Skirmish, Coon Creek near Lamar, Mo. (15)Aug. 24, 1862
Skirmish, Lamar, Mo. (15)Aug. 24, 1862
   Raid, Olathe, Kan. (16)Sept. 6, 1862
Skirmish, Liberty (17 ) and Sibley's Landing (18), Mo.Oct. 6, 1862
   Raid, Shawnee, Kan. (19)Oct. 17, 1862
    Operations in Jackson County, Mo. (20) (detachment)Nov. 1 - 5, 1862
Skirmish, Harrisonville, Cass County, Mo. (21) (detachment)Nov. 3, 1862
Skirmish, Lamar, Mo. (16) (detachment)Nov. 5, 1862
   Operations against the Expedition from Fort Scott, Kan.(22)Nov. 6 - 11, 1862
Skirmish, Cato, Kan. Nov. 8, 1862
   Engagement, Cane Hill, Boston Mountains, Boonsboro, Mo. (23) (detachment)Nov. 28, 1862
Skirmish, Independence, Mo. (2)Feb. 3, 1863
Skirmish, Independence, Mo. (2)Feb. 8, 1863
Skirmish near Aubrey, Kan. (3)March 12, 1863
Skirmish, Blue Springs (1) near Independence (2), Mo.March 22, 1863
Skirmish, Independence, Mo. (2)April 23, 1863
   Operations about Lexington, Mo. (24) (detachment)May 4, 1863
Skirmish, Big Creek near Pleasant Hill, Mo. (11)May 15, 1863
Skirmish, Richfield, Clay County, Mo. (25) (detachment)May 19, 1863
Skirmish, Subley, Mo. (18)June 23, 1863
Skirmish. Hudson's Ford, Neosho River, I. T. June 30, 1863
Skirmish, Lawrence, Kan. (26 ) (detachment )July 27, 1863
Skirmish, Saline County, Mo. (27) (detachment)July 31 , 1863
Skirmish, Taylor's Farm, Little Blue, Mo. (5)Aug. 1, 1863
Skirmish, Jack's Fork, Mo. (detachment)Aug. 14, 1863
Skirmish near Sherwood, Mo . (detachment)Aug. 14, 1863
   Massacre, Lawrence, Kan. (26)Aug. 21, 1863
Skirmish, Brooklyn, Kan.Aug. 21, 1863
Skirmish, Paoli, Kan. (28 )Aug. 21, 1863
   Quantrell's Raid into Kansas Aug. 21 - 28, 1863
Skirmish, Big Creek near Pleasant Hill, Mo. (11 ) (detachment)Aug. 22, 1863
Skirmish, Independence, Mo. (2)Aug. 25, 1863
Skirmishes near Hopewell, Mo. ( detachment )Aug. 25 - 26, 1863
    Operations against the Scout from Coldwater Grove to Pleasant Hill (11 ) and Big Creek, Mo . and SkirmishesSept. 4 - 7' 1863
Skirmish near Maysville, Ark . (29 ) (detachment )Sept. 5, 1863
Skirmish, Jackson County, Mo. (20) (detachment)Sept. 15, 1863
Skirmish, near Widow Wheeler's, Mo.Oct. 4, 1863
Action, Baxter Springs, Kan. (30)Oct. 6, 1863
Skirmish, Fort Blair, Waldron, Ark. (31) (detachment)Oct. 6, 1863
Skirmish, Choctaw Nation, I. T. (32) (detachment )Oct. 7, 1863
Skirmish near Man's Creek, Mo. (detachment)Oct. 14, 1863
Affair, Greenton Valley near Hopewell (33) , Mo. (detachment)Oct. 21, 1863
Attack, Fort Gibson, I. T. (34 )Dec. 16, 1863
Skirmish near Sheldon Place, Barren Fork, I. T. (35)Dec . 18, 1863
Skirmish near Fort Gibson : I. T. (34 )Dec . 26, 1863
   Operations in the Indian Territory April 15 - 20, 1864
Affair near Choshy, I. T. (36 )April 20, 1864
Skirmish, Dayton, Mo . (detachment )April 26, 1864
Skirmish, Ofatt ' s Knob , Mo . (detachment )April 28, 1864
Skirmishes, Johnson County, Mo. ( 37 ) (detachment )April 23 - 30, 1864
Skirmish, Sni Hills, Mo. (detachment)April 29, 1864
Skirmish near Arnoldsville and Raid on New Market (38), Mo. June 1, 1864
Affair·, Versailles, Mo. (39)July 13, 1864
Skirmish, Saline County, Mo. (27) (detachment)Aug 13, 1864
Skirmish, Fort Gibson, I. T. (34) (detachment)Sept. 10, 1864
Skirmish, Fayette, Mo. (40) (detachment)Sept. 24, 1864
Skirmish near Glasgow, Mo. (41) (detachment)Jan. 10, 1865
Affair, Danville, Ky. (42)Jan. 29, 1865
Skirmish, near Chaplintown, Ky. (43)Jan. 30, 1865
Affair, New Market, Ky.Feb. 8, 1865
Skirmish, Bradfordsville , Ky. (44)Feb. 3, 1865
Skirmish, Hustonville, Ky. (45)i eb. 9, 1865
Skirmish near Bloomfield, Ky. (46)April 13, 1865

   Quantrell was seriously wounded at Bloomfield on April 13, 1865. Federal troops captured him and brought him to Louisville, Kentucky. Here he claimed that his name was William Clarke (some references will be found in official and unofficial sources to Clarke's Kentucky Cavalry Company) but his identity was soon established. Upon his capture the few remaining members of his band still at large dispersed, some returning to Missouri and their illegal activities. Quantrell's condition had, in the meantime, worsened and he died in Louisville on June 4, 1865.

    This concludes the Capsule History provided by John F. Walters (copied for clarity of reading from the PDF.)
Compiled and Presented by Melinda Cohenour.
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Consider This

Pretty Is

       Sometimes our old world feels like an awfully dark place, does it not? Oh I know---if we just think positive thoughts everything will be all perfect again. That’s fine if it works for you, and I’ll certainly give it a try, but it’s hard to bend one’s thinking in that direction when we hear, read and see the daily news. Things seem to be in such chaos, violence, sadness, sickness and fear, and so many people are suffering, most whom do not deserve to.

      So here’s the deal. Deciding to make my worried and darkening thoughts go away, I have made the decision to occasionally focus for 24 straight hours only on pretty things. Now hold on to your gag reflex. I’ll make every effort to not get too saccharin, sappy or even gooey. But I honestly think if I focus on pretty things I can obviously not be focusing on nuclear bombs and --- well, you know where this is going. Ready? Here goes;

       Have you ever noticed how pretty cream is when poured into iced coffee? How it swirls and undulates in the dark liquid? Really pretty, I think. And have you ever walked behind a little girl with long strawberry-blond hair and the sun is shining on it? Gorgeous. Some women pay good money to get that look from a salon, but on a sweet child playing in the sun, that hair color is really pretty.

       Want to know what else is awfully pretty? Looking through a row of green house plants on a shelf in front of a window when it’s snowing outside. How pretty! Those green leaves against the white snow---soothing. Makes one remember that summer promises to one day reappear. Sunlight landing on a crystal goblet. Those little green glass eyes on tiny stuffed animals. Butterfly wings under a magnifying glass. All those thousands of minuscule stitches on a quilt made by a lady 200 years ago. A sleeping baby’s eyelashes against her chubby cheeks. The color of a cut-open avocado. And Key Lime Pie. And apricots. And an alligator’s eye. And a black horse’s coat in the sunshine. And a newborn pine cone. And clover. And moss, and speaking of moss, have you ever gotten way down and close to it and seen how beautiful it is? Like a tiny lush forest. And isn’t the color of the undersides of mushrooms truly pretty?

      Isn’t it pretty when a car’s oil drips into a rain puddle on the street? Or when dripped water creates star bursts on inked paper? Or when a police car’s gorgeous flashing blue lights reflect on someone else’s car at night?

       Isn’t it pretty when trees bend and dance for summer winds? Isn’t it pretty when a little child smiles widely at you from its mother’s shopping cart? Isn’t the white cream in Oreo cookies pretty? Any painting by Grandma Moses.

       Aren’t the shiny iridescent gleamings on black beetles’ wings pretty? And oh my, the prettiness of possum feet, and mice feet, and the clumsy, tripping comic baby elephant’s feet. So pretty. And pale aqua sugar free glassy cough drops---so pretty. The bellies of inchworms.

       Have you ever been out west on the plains after a rainstorm? The smell then is very pretty and the views of course are beyond pretty.

       And pretty is sweet music coming unexpectedly from somewhere as we walk along the street. The flash of red on a speeding red-winged blackbird. An old woman’s straw hat with spring flowers in the headband. The edges of a lake on a hot still summer day. A big glass bowl of jelly beans. Pretty.

       I suspect about now you’re just starting to go into a sugar coma. Sorry about that. But while I was writing this and you were reading, we didn’t even once think about the bad things out there, did we? See? It worked. Ha! Tolja.

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Thirty years ago my wife and I
Went hunting for a house to buy.

We looked at quite a few
And then we stopped at this one,
Not special from the street –
White clapboard with a small porch,
A curving walk up to the door,
A shaded yard and promise
Of a space to make a garden.

But when we stepped inside
We found much of the house
Was a single airy room
Zigzagging from the front
Entirely to the back, 80 feet in all,
Half as long as a football field is wide.

A pair of sunny windows gazed
Upon a leafy lawn, arched by elms;
And the east wall held a massive hearth,
Tall bookshelves layered to the ceiling,
A fireplace big enough for logs.

We dreamed
Of crackling fires on frosty nights,
Cozy conversations on a couch,
Scented evergreens and candlelight.

We loved that room, that view,
That fireplace, mantel, hearth,
For now we knew the house
Contained a soul
And all we had to do was nourish it.

©2017 John I. Blair, 9/4/2017

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Dead Resident

When the newspapers start piling up by the door
And there's an odor that is too hard to ignore
Someone could have passed away
Possibly last week, or the other day
Who would know, if someone passed away
They could be in their apartment, in a state of decay
It might be some that you know
That you haven't seen in a day or so

What happened in their place
For them not to have shown their face
Who would know what happened there
There must be someone who would care

Let's check in on them today
Maybe Lou has gone away
Mary might be home tonight
It's 10 PM and there's no light

It's hard to know where everyone might be
Some sort of “Buddy Check” might be the key
There will always be those that we don't know
Who they are, and where they go

I wonder how their last days were spent
When someone turns up as a Dead Resident
©Sep 27, 2017 Bud Lemire
                        Author Note:
In an apartment place, there will always be people
passing away. It was their time to go, most likely.
But when you haven't seen anyone in awhile, it might
be a good idea to bring it to someone's attention. So
they can easily check on that person just to be sure
they are okay. Everybody needs someone to check on
them. I have two people I know who would be calling
everywhere to check on me if I wasn't seen in awhile.
Everyone should have someone checking on them. If
not, they need to have someone do that. A “Buddy Check”
is in need for those who don't have one.

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Greeting The Morning Sun

Like every living thing on Earth
I depend for my existence
On the fiery ball that greets me every dawn.

It’s more than 90 million miles away
Yet so hot that on a summer’s day
I cannot take exposure unprotected.

From our start the human race
Has known this orb
Could sizzle us in moments.

Small wonder we should find
Terror has a place in worship.

©2017 John I. Blair, 9/16/2017

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Rockin' Delta County

We're Rockin' Delta County today
Grab a rock and paint it your way
Use your imagination, make a design
Or even words, to make that rock shine
Inspire others, with the words on each rock
Hide them, while you're out on a walk
When others find it, it'll make them smile
It will make you happy, for quite awhile

Find a good place to hide it, but not too hard
Maybe somewhere in someone's yard
On a post, on a desk, or in a tree
You just never know, where one will be

It might be anywhere, all you have to do is look
That painted rock, could be behind that Library book
You could see it in some store
Or right in front of your door

Painting and hiding rocks, is for all ages
When you take part, in all its stages
Whether you paint, hide, or find
These rocks make, for a happy mind
We're Rockin' Delta County today
Grab a rock, and paint it your way
©Sep 2, 2017 Bud Lemire
                     Author Note:
These Painted rocks have hit Delta County, and
things are really Rockin' here. Painting, hiding,
and finding them is a fun thing that is bringing
many people into this activity. People of all ages
are finding rocks and smiling about it. It's making
people more aware of what they are seeing, and
of course finding much more than just rocks.
They're finding a smile that was hidden way too
long. Rock Delta County and smile!
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Waxing Moon

The waxing moon
Gleams high above the night,
Casting its light on trees, flowers,

The deck and me.
At one a.m. the air is cool,
Birds sleep, flowers hoard

Stores of nectar for morning bees,
Squirrels tuck noses deep in fur.
Among these ancient things

The only novelties
Are me and the boards
I, barefoot, stand upon.

©2017 John I. Blair, 9/9/2017

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Out of Control

Thread the needle, all for one
Take the antidote while on the run
Point your finger, raise the blame
Counting your excuses is your game

Reach for stardom, touch the streets
End up with a mouth full of lies and deceit
Flick the switches, chaos rings
Calls to nowhere, bouncing springs
You ended up in the gutter

You’re out of control
You’re stuck on your phone
Lost in your mind
Wasting our time

Tell a lie, hit the girl
Shock and awe in your internet world
Allergic to water, wash your soul
Chain the doors, locked in your hold

You’re out of control
You’re stuck in black mold
Making excuses
Lies and abuses

©9/29/17 Bruce Clifford

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When first we met
You were a young and feisty dad,
I an even younger one.

Your two sons and my one
Were friends
And so were we.

That was years ago;
Time, the fourth dimension,
Has wrought so many changes.

Our boys grew up,
Matured to men
Whom we took pride in.

Our minds became forgetful,
Reaching for a word,
Struggling to stay alert.

Our straight and sturdy bodies
Bent and weakened,
Succumbing to the frailties of age.

And now you’ve left us,
Gone in person
But lingering in our thoughts.

Where you have gone
We might have differed on,
Had a dialogue about;

But whether I’ll remember you,
Recalling you with fond sadness,
There can be no argument.

©2017 John I. Blair, 9/28/2017

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What Will Be

There’s danger far out at sea
Does she have her eyes set on me
What will be, what will be, what will be
My favorite places are no more

There’s a gust of wind in the storm
Does she know this is not what we need to endure
What will be, what will be, what will be
My favorite places in the eye of the storm

I can hear you
I can see
Yes, I fear you
It’s hard to believe

What will be, what will be, what will be
Those happy places are no more
What will be, what will be, what will be
My favorite places in the eye of the storm

©9/18/17 Bruce Clifford

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Far too often
The villains in our tales
Look ugly,
Uglier than most of us
Can tolerate.

Thugs, mobsters,
Ogres, orcs, trolls,
The walking dead,
All have faces, bodies,
Half ruined
With wounds and scars,
Boast missing limbs,
Steel prostheses,
Speak with ravaged voices.

What does that reveal
Of how we truly feel
About the maimed, the halt,
Victims of violence, accident, war?

If beauty’s
In the eye
Of the beholder,
Where then is love?

©2017, John I. Blair 8/31/2017

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A Will

Before your life ends, here are some things to know
Doing right by those left behind, before you go
Legally, get yourself a Will, do it right
Smile at the outcome, as you walk into the Light

 So many relatives, that are left behind
Are battling for possessions, is what I find
They have bills, they shouldn't have at all
Many have found, they are up against a wall

Before you leave this world, get everything taken care of
Getting this done, is showing the greatest kind of love
No worries, it's so easy to just glide
You weren't taken, for a hair raising ride

“Oh dear, oh my, what will I do?”
“Should that go to Uncle Tim, or Cousin Sue?”
“If I give it to Tim, Sue will be mad”
“No matter what I do, it will turn out bad”

So many times, it leaves a family at war
Feuding among themselves, in an uproar
Where a disagreement shouldn't be
“That picture on his wall, should have gone to me!”
“Instead it went to his Nephew Jim”
“Why did it have to go to him?!”
©Sep 18, 2017 Bud Lemire
                      Author Note:
Before someone passes, a Will should be made.
To make sure this person is assured everyone
will get what they have coming to them from
the deceased person. The better the legal form,
the better the hopes of everyone getting what
that person wanted everyone to have. Yet, it seems
even when it is planned good, things can go wrong.
Families are at war within, and it isn't good. Please
do your best to get everything planned right, so when
you pass, everything will fall into place perfectly.

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Safe Sailing

Safe sailing
Bon Voyage
I’m not with you
The weather rages on

Captions and callings
Memories are falling
Safe sailing, Bon Voyage

In the distance I can still see the lighthouse
She’s got some glow in her in iridescent ways
If we see tomorrow then I would have spoken too soon
The storm is knocking and it’s still far away

Safe sailing
Leave me behind
All that empathy
The words are hard to find

Moments of empty space
Then filled with waves
Onward and upward
What will be left to save
Safe sailing, Bon Voyage

Memories are calling
The sky is falling
I’m not with you
The weather rages on

©9/6/17 Bruce Clifford

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       This is a story about a day in the life of an innocent chair, a simple, upholstered, somewhat shabby, comfortable blue twenty-year-old chair, that went, quite against its will, on a one-day furlough but managed to return back home, battered but still sittable.
       We have a friend who is in the process of moving to Maine. She owns a pleasant home but for a while had very few furnishings, so we offered her our comfy blue chair since it wasn’t being used too often. She was grateful and told us she’d return it when her own furniture began to fill up her new home. So, we trapped a visiting male to haul it out of our home and put it into hers. Seemed to be a good deal all around.
       In time, our friend accumulated enough of her own furnishings and she told us we could have “Old Blue” back again and she’d make arrangements to get it to our home.
       When all her furnishings and possessions were in place, our friend asked a relative and his wife, “Mr. and Mrs. X.” to take a few usable items in their truck to a place that took unused things and donated them to people in need. But something got lost in translation and the Xs also mistakenly took the blue chair, tossed it into their truck with everything else, and drove off. When the Xs realized they’d taken Old Blue by mistake, they called me immediately, fairly hysterical, apologizing a lot and telling me they’d already dropped the chair off at the donation place. However, she’d called them, spoke with one “Percival” who said that because the place would close in a few minutes, he’d put a note on the chair and we could come for it the following Monday. Mrs. X. went on to explain that Percival told them he was the manager there, to not worry, happens all the time, he’d take care of it and would be sure to put a big note on the chair explaining the situation and that we could come for it. Exhale. Chair saved.
      Monday came. I called the place to say we’d be coming over. No chair said they. No note, and creepily, no Percival. Furthermore, the manager was a woman and said she was the only manager there and had been for years.
      Hmmmm. After much puzzlement, I called back, got the lady manager who again repeated that “they’d looked all over the entire shop and there was not a single chair of that description—in fact no chairs were in the store at all.” Really?
       Well, when I find myself in an unsolvable situation, I dump it on poor Mongo. I asked him if he’d mind driving over there and taking a look himself. He obliged me as he usually does and yes, guess what? He walked in the door and the chair was standing straight in front of him, about 2 yards away, waiting to be rescued and taken back home.
      Feeling slightly ticked off, I again called the lady manager of the donation place and said, icily I hoped, “how odd that you told me twice my chair was not there, and yet my husband found it instantly when he entered your store.” Her answer? “Well, there was no note on it.” What?? “I’m confused,” says I. “If you didn’t have the chair, then what do you mean when you say there was no note on it---I mean if it wasn’t there. How does one read an attached note on a chair that does not exist?” “Well,” says she again, “there was no note.” I think this lady manager has missed her calling. She’d make an excellent spy. She obviously confesses to nothing.
       So Mongo loaded the chair into the trunk of his car and drove off. He obediently stopped at a red light not far from the Shoppe of Invisible Chairs, and when the light turned to green, he accelerated. I guess he had temporarily forgotten the Law of Inertia, because our poor old chair flipped out of the trunk and landed in 2 lanes of angry traffic. He had to pull off that roadway, park, and walk back into traffic, and pick the thing up. It is bulky and heavy but I imagine his adrenaline was working pretty well at this point, and after holding up those annoyed drivers for a full 2 minutes, managed to wrassle the chair back into his car’s trunk. Oh, and before he left, I’d asked him to bring bungee cords, but, well, after 58 years of marriage, hearing can get a little selective and besides, what do cranky old wives know from bungee cords, anyway?
      Now that chair is safely back in its original spot in our living room having come full circle, a bit more battered now, but still comfortable and so willing to serve. One day we’ll buy a new chair and then I’ll again call on the kind and helpful Percival the Manager who isn’t to ask him to send a truck from his store to pick up that traveling chair and to donate it to someone who needs it. But, I ask myself, scratching my head, who is/was the mysterious non-existent Percival? The Guardian Poltergeist of Chairs, or what?

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