Another Anniversary


The Pensacola Journal, May 29, 1918, page one.

I didn’t do this….


Emmett joining Facebook from beyond the grave, maybe.


…but someone did.


Wake Up, 100 Years Ago


Here’s an interesting thought:

You wake up, and it’s 1918.

What are you qualified to do?

Source: WVU Library


My automatic response is, I’d be a teacher, but maybe not, because in many jurisdictions, once a woman married, she was expected to retire. And I’d most likely not be teaching in higher education, as most of these jobs went to men.

And at my age, I’d definitely be retired if this were 1918.

(I saw this question on social media yesterday morning, and it’s intrigued me. Tip of the hat to Eric Alper on Twitter for the idea.)

When Caring Turns Ugly


As I read this wonderful and insightful post, I thought of Emmett and those close to him, who probably tried to save him from himself.

I thought of Jennie Kehoe, and Emmett’s sister, Katie Meade, who probably felt the weight of their compassion as impossibly heavy at times.

Bert Fulks

Are you exhausted from worrying about someone?  Weighed down from constantly carrying them in your heart?

Okay, friends.  Huddle up.

View original post 1,002 more words



Poor Emmett’s blog has become a dried husk because I’ve been away for two weeks attending to a family emergency.

I will return in a day or so with an update, and hopefully, be back on schedule.




“Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.

“Yesterday, everybody smoked his last cigar, took his last drink, and swore his last oath. Today, we are a pious and exemplary community. Thirty days from now, we shall have cast our reformation to the winds and gone to cutting our ancient shortcomings considerably shorter than ever. We shall also reflect pleasantly upon how we did the same old thing last year about this time.

“However, go in, community. New Year’s is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, and friendly calls, and humbug resolutions, and we wish you to enjoy it with a looseness suited to the greatness of the occasion.”

~ Mark Twain
letter to Virginia City Territorial Enterprise
January 1863