Trouble On The Prairie

"The real things haven't changed.  It is still best

to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have;

to be happy with simple pleasures; and have courage

when things go wrong."

Laura Ingalls Wilder

Laura Ingalls Wilder

American author

(1867-1957)

I am sorry to have to end this month's blog on a sad note,

but I have just learned from the Laura Ingalls Wilder Society's

monthly newsletter that the American Library Association

recently voted to rename the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award

to the "Children's Literature Legacy Award."

According to the president of the children's department,

Nina Lindsay, the "Little House" series of books,

"reflect dated cultural attitudes towards indigenous people

and people of color that contradict modern acceptance,

celebration, and understanding of diverse communities."

In other words, Laura Ingalls Wilder, prolific author

and American pioneer girl, has become the latest victim

of the ongoing 21st century revisionist history movement.

As far as I am concerned, the action taken on the part

of the American Library Association makes them no better

than the ignorant fools who recently desecrated the 

 monuments of Confederate war heroes in the South,

in an effort to erase, "The lost cause of the Confederacy."

The American Library Association asserts that Laura's books

"do not align with their values."  This is just more politically correct jargon, 

 along with phrases like, "culturally insensitive" and "diverse communities".

Laura Ingalls Wilder is considered by generations of Americans

who grew up reading and loving her "Little House" books

as one of our most beloved national treasures.

Through Laura's eyes, I was able to experience what it

was like to grow up in the Big Woods of Wisconsin, and to travel

in a covered wagon into the wilds of Indian Territory, and later

to Minnesota where the Ingalls first lived in a dugout on Plum Creek.

I felt the sorrow of the Ingalls family after Laura's older sister,

Mary, went blind, and later, the excitement of going West again

with the family to their final home in De Smet, South Dakota,

where Laura would one day meet and marry Almanzo Wilder.

  One of the heroes in the book, "Little House On The Prairie" was an Osage

warrior  named Soldat du Chene, who saved Laura and her family

and the other settlers in Indian Territory from being massacred

by other Indians who were angry to find the white settlers on

their land.  Another admirable character was Dr. Tan, a black doctor,

who saved the family's lives after they were stricken with malaria.

An illustration from the chapter, "Fever "n" Ague" in the
book, "Little House On The Prairie".  The Ingalls family all came
down with malaria after being bitten by mosquitoes carrying the disease.
  Dr. Tan, a black physician who worked among the Indians,
 was passing by the Ingalls cabin when Jack, the family's pet bull dog,
 ran out to meet him on the trail and pleaded for him to come into the house.  
 Dr. Tan stayed with the family helping them to get better with doses 
of quinine and was later joined by Mrs. Scott, a neighbor, who
came to help nurse them back to health.

  In the book, "The Long Winter" which 

tells how the residents of De Smet, South Dakota

survived several months of almost non-stop raging blizzards, 

 it was an old Sioux Indian who came to warn the townspeople about

the bad weather heading their way.

 Furthermore, aside from the minstrel show in the

book, "Little Town On The Prairie" which reflects the

cultural norms of the time, I have never read anything 

 really offensive or degrading in Laura's books.

 She did, however, relate the story of the cold-blooded murder

of a homesteader by claim jumpers in the book,

"By The Shores Of Silver Lake".

This was yet another reflection of the times she was

living in and how the government's offer of homestead land

on the remote prairies attracted both farmers and felons alike.

Laura autographs her books for her fans at 

Brown Brothers Book Store in Springfield, Missouri

on November 17, 1952

Laura's stories are an important part of America's history mainly

because she was an eyewitness to life on the western frontier. 

However,  her "Little House" books were also written as a memoir of

her loving and close-knit family and are full of lessons about

 faith and courage and having the determination to succeed in life.

Laura has always been an inspiration to me.

A true kindred spirit.

It breaks my heart that she has been so discredited in this way.

Laura (right) and her sisters Mary (center)  and Carrie (left)  in a photograph taken

after the Hard Winter of 1880-81.

"As you read my stories of long ago I hope you will remember that

things truly worthwhile and that will give you happiness are the same

now as they were then.  It is not the things you have that make you happy.

It is love and kindness and helping each other and just plain being good."

-Laura Ingalls Wilder

Summer Fun With The Kewpies!

A belated birthday salute to 

American cartoonist Rose O'Neill

featuring her adorable little Kewpies!

Illustrator Rose Cecil O'Neill

June 25, 1874-April 6, 1944

 Good Housekeeping Magazine Cover

(June 1914)

Rose O'Neill was the first successful female illustrator in America

and highest paid artist of her time.  She was also a strong believer in

women being given the right to vote in this nation, as 

reflected on the vintage postcard below:

Kewpie Promoting The Women's Suffrage Movement

(1914)

"Summertime...and the livin' is easy..."

Kewpie Camp-Out

(1914)

Kewpie Bride And Groom

(1915)

A collection of antique German all-bisque Kewpies

Kewpie Comics

(1935)

Rose O'Neill was a true American pioneer, paving the

way for other women to have successful and rewarding

careers in illustrating and advertising, both during her

generation and today.  

Her sweet little mischievous urchins never fail 

to make me smile!

Moonshine Kewpie

Enjoy Summer!

The Song of The Greater Knapweed Fairy

Oh please, little children, take note of my name:

To call me a thistle is really a shame:

I'm harmless old Knapweed, who grows on the chalk,

I never will prick you when out for your walk.

Yet, I should be sorry, yes, sorry indeed,

To cut your small fingers and call them to bleed;

So bid me Good Morning when out for your walk,

And mind how you pull at my very tough stalk.

(Sometimes this Knapweed is called Hardhead; and he has

a little brother, little Knapweed, whose flower is not quite like this.-CMB)

The Greater Knapweed Fairy

Cecily Mary Barker

Greater Knapweed, also called Centaurea scabiosa,

 is a wildflower found in Great Britain and Ireland.

"The Song Of The Greater Knapweed Fairy"

Cecily Mary Barker

(1895-1973)

English artist and poetess

The Wayfarers

Is it the hour? We leave this resting-place

Made fair by one another for a while.

Now, for a god-speed, one last mad embrace,

The long road then, unlit by your faint smile.

Wayside Farewell

Middletown, Virginia

February 3, 1863

Mort Kunstler

Ah! the long road! and you so far away!

Oh, I'll remember! but...each crawling day

Will pale a little your scarlet lips, each mile

Dull the dear pain of your remembered face.

Do you think there's a far border town, somewhere,

The desert edge, last of the lands we know,

Some gaunt eventual limit of our light,

In which I'll find you waiting, and we'll go

Together, hand in hand again, out there,

Into the waste we know not, into the night?

"The Wayfarers"

Rupert Brooke

(1887-1915)

English poet

On My Mind: The Sanctity Of Life

"As you know not what is the way of the wind,

or how the spirit comes to the bones in the womb

of a pregnant woman, even so you know not the

work of God Who does all."

Ecclesiastes 11:5

REGARDING THE FIRST AMENDMENT RIGHTS OF

PRO-LIFERS AND THE SANCTITY OF HUMAN LIFE...

In a 5-4 ruling on Tuesday the Supreme Court of the United States

decided that a California law requiring pro-life crisis pregnancy centers

to advertise information about abortion violates their First Amendment

right of freedom of speech and expression.

Under this same law, the state did not require abortion clinics to post

pro-life alternatives to abortion which does not surprise me. I agree with
the Reverend Franklin Graham who recently opined that California,
more than any other state in the union, "sadly reflects the ungodly
secular agenda of progressives who have gained control over
much of the Golden States's affairs."

But aside from state mandates targeting pro-life crisis pregnancy centers
 what really disturbs me is the number of Americans who claim that
they are freedom-loving patriots who support the validity of the
constitutional rights of all Americans, especially in regards to
issues like free speech and gun ownership, and yet, they see
nothing wrong with supporting the abortion industry in this nation.

I believe that the US Constitution was written to protect the freedom

of all Americans, including the most defenseless ones in the womb.

The longstanding argument of feminists and the pro-choice movement is 

that any legislation written to curb the number of abortions being

performed in America is an automatic setback for "reproductive
rights" not to mention that less abortions will somehow deprive
women, especially those living in poverty, of adequate healthcare.

  This argument is as false as it is selfish.
Mainly because abortion has nothing to do with healthcare!
Abortion is the deliberate taking of human life.
Abortion is murder.

Furthermore, the very existence of pro-life crisis pregnancy centers
 operating in California and elsewhere in this nation proves that there is an

  alternative to having an abortion.  These centers not only focus
 on the overall health and well-being of the unborn child,
but on the physical, mental, and spiritual health of the mother
with nonjudgmental love and compassion, much in the same way
Christ offers His unconditional love and mercy to the
lost and hurting of this world.

On a more personal note, I will never forget the time twenty years

ago when I  found out I was pregnant with my second child. 
Although this baby was not planned, I was pleasantly surprised
to be expecting again.  A few months into my pregnancy,

I went for a series of routine blood tests required by my doctor. I was

thirty four years old at the time and he informed me that because

of my age he felt these tests were necessary.

I remember I went to the doctor's office for the tests on a Tuesday

morning.  Two days later, I was in the middle of doing some housecleaning

when the phone rang.  It was the nurse from my doctor's office who

informed me that one of the tests I had taken had come back with

a positive reading for Down Syndrome.

At that moment, my whole world stopped.

I could feel the fear rising inside me as I tried to calmly carry on further

conversation with the nurse who wanted me to make an appointment

at an area pregnancy clinic for amniocentesis and an ultrasound.
I refused the first procedure outright due to the risk of having a miscarriage,
but I agreed to the ultrasound.  After I made the appointment I called
my mother with the news.  I was shaking with fear and crying, but,
my mother calmed me down and offered to take me to my appointment.
She later called my older sister and told her the news. My sister informed Mom
  that she had been offered the same test when she was pregnant with her last child,
but refused to take it because if the test is not performed in the exact
sixteenth week of pregnancy it often results in a false positive reading.

I was not sure how far along I was when I took the test,
 and I tried not to think of what lied ahead as I watched
  the emerging spring landscape along the highway
  on the way to my appointment the following week.

 Like the budding of new leaves on the trees
and new patches of green grass growing along the median,
 to everything there is a season.  I knew that whatever happened, 
God was in control of the situation.

The earnest prayer of my heart was that if I was to be the
mother of a child with special needs, that He would bless me
with the strength and the grace to bear up and be the best
mother I could possibly be to this precious baby whose
little feet I could feel kicking gently in my womb.

 During the ultrasound, the medical technician who performed

the procedure told me, "I have looked at several different images 

 of your baby and everything looks okay to me."

A doctor at the clinic later confirmed what he said was true.

Even though I felt greatly relieved, for the rest of my pregnancy
I still worried.  Yet, I  just as often remembered the words
of the psalmist who wrote: "My times are in Your hands."

On October 27, 1998 I gave birth to my second son, Aaron Matthew.
 He was a strong and beautiful and perfectly healthy baby,
who tipped the scale at a strapping 9.6 lbs.!

Looking back on this time of trial in my life, 
 I often wonder how many women, upon hearing
the dreadful news I did concerning my unborn child,
would have succumb to fear or societal pressure
and would have opted to abort the child. 

I well remember how certain feminists in America
took former Governor and Vice-Presidential candidate,
Sarah Palin to task for giving birth to her youngest child,
son Trig, who was born with Down Syndrome.
But unlike them, Sarah is a strong advocate for life, and a
woman of unshakable faith, who knows that God
has a special plan and purpose for her precious son.


As a little boy, my Aaron loved playing outdoors, riding his bike,
climbing trees, racing down to the end of our driveway to watch
the freight train pass by, and occasionally pulling off a daredevil stunt, 
like jumping off the roof of the shed in the backyard and high
into the air pretending he was a superhero, much to the
horror of his mother, who just happen to look out the
back door at the same time.  He made a perfect two
point landing, despite the fact that he was wearing a
pair of his father's old, over-sized work boots on his feet!

 Aaron has since grown from an energetic and curious
  little boy into a responsible and thoughtful young man,
who today stands nearly six feet tall, and, who just

  graduated from high school last Friday night in the pouring rain!

Tzom Tammuz 5778

The 17th of Tammuz, Shiv'ah Asar b' Tammuz, is a minor Jewish

fast day which commemorates the breaching of the walls of Jerusalem

before the destruction of the Second Temple. It falls on the 17th day

of the Hebrew month of Tammuz, and also marks the beginning

of a three week period of mourning leading up to the observance

of Tisha B'Av.  This is a time of reflection for Jews all over the world

regarding the significant events which have shaped their
history as both a people and as a nation.

Throughout their long and often difficult existence, 

the Jews have faced many challenges and yet, survived.

That there are still Jews alive today as well as a nation called Israel,

 is living testimony of the love and faithfulness of Almighty God,

Who has called them to be His own nation and people, and

 a blessing, to "all the families and kindred of the earth."

 (Genesis 12:3)

Over 10,000 Jewish children from Germany, Poland,  Czechoslovakia, and Austria 
were rescued from the Nazis by the British organization,  Kindertransport,
 nine months before the outbreak of WWII.
The ultimate goal of this organization  was to reunite these children with their parents

 and families once the war ended. Unfortunately, in the wake of the devastation

 across post war Europe and the Holocaust, many of these children were orphaned
 and remained in Great Britain where they became citizens. 

Some later emigrated to the United States, Israel, 
or eventually returned to their native countries.

"Then he (Noah) sent forth a dove to see if the waters had

decreased from the surface of the ground. But the dove

found no resting place on which to roost, and she returned

to him to the ark...He waited another seven days and

again sent forth the dove out of the ark. 

And the dove came back in the evening, and behold,

in her mouth was a newly sprouted and freshly plucked

olive leaf! So Noah knew that the waters had

subsided from the land."

Genesis 8: 8,9,10,11

Dove of the Ark

Marc Chagall

(1935)

 Moses smashed the tablets containing the Ten Commandments

when he saw the people worshiping the golden calf. He later
went back up on Mt. Sinai to plead on behalf of his people
for God's forgiveness for their idolatry.

Moses Breaking The Tablets Of The Law
Gustave Dore

"Today I know that such memories are the key,

not to the past, but to the future.

I know that the experiences of our lives,

when we let God use them,

become the mysterious and perfect preparation

for the work He will give us to do."

-Corrie ten Boom
(1892-1983)
Dutch Christian 
"Righteous Among The Nations"

When Is A Settler An Old Settler?

"Why, you are an old settler," said a newcomer to us recently.

"Yes," I replied proudly, "we consider ourselves natives."

Yet, when we drove into the Ozarks twenty years ago, with a

covered hack and a pony team, we found the "old settler"

already here. In conversation with us he made the remark:

"My father was an old settler here. He came up from Tennessee 

before the war.* Since then in working the fields we have found

now and then a stone arrow or spearhead made by a settler older still."

Vintage Postcard From The Ozark Mountains

When we came to the Ozarks, a team of fairly good horses would trade for

forty acres of land. The fences were all rail fences and a great many of the houses

were built of logs. The country was a queer mixture of an old and a new country.

A great many fields had been cropped continually since the war and were so

worn out that as one of the neighbors said, "You can't hardly raise an

umbrella over it." Aside from these old fields, the land was covered with

timber and used for range. The "old settlers" told us that the thick growth

of timber was a comparatively new thing; that before the country was so

thickly settled, there were only a few scattering large trees.

The fires were allowed to run, and they kept down the growth of timber,

Wild grasses grew rankly over all the hills and cattle pastured freely.

It has always been a great pleasure to hear the tales of earlier days.

A neighbor, Mrs. Cleaver, told us stories of her experience in war times

and the days, equally as bad, which immediately followed. Her husband did

not go to war, but one night a band of men came and took him away.

She never knew what became of him. Then came the hard days for her

and her young stepson. They raised a little crop and a hog or two for

their living, but whenever they had stored a little corn or meat,

some lawless bands of raiders that infested the Ozark hills would come

and take it from them. When the war ended, some of the leaders

of these lawless bands continued their depredations, only in a

little different fashion. Through the machinations of one of them,

Mrs. Cleaver's stepson was taken from her, by due process of law,

and bound out to them until the boy should be of age, to work without

wages, of course. When Mrs. Cleaver protested, I suppose in 

rather a frantic way, she was driven from the courthouse,  

with a horsewhip, by the sheriff.

Not all the old-time stories were so serious. There is the story of the

green country boy who had never seen a carpeted floor. A new family 

moved in from the North somewhere, and this boy went to the house one day.

As he started to enter the door, he saw the carpet on the floor.

Standing in the door, he swung his long arms and jumped clear across

the small room, landing on the hearth before the fireplace.

Turning to the astonished woman of the house, he exclaimed:

"Who Mam! I mighty nigh stepped on your kiverled."

(coverlet or bedspread).

Our friend in telling this story always ended with: "I never could

make out whether that boy was as big a fool as he pretended to be or not.

He made a mighty smart businessman when he was older and made the

businessmen of Kansas City and St. Louis hustle to keep up with him"

which is the way the hill boys have.

One old lady, who has lived here since the war, says that when she came

the "old settlers" told her of the time when a band of Spanish adventurers

came up the Mississippi River and wandered through the Ozarks.

Somewhere among the hills they hid their treasure in a cave, and

it has never been discovered to this day.

But how old must a settler be to be an "old settler"? Or if you

prefer the famous question, "How old is Ann?"*

Laura (left) and with daughter Rose standing 

in the ravine on Rocky Ridge Farm.

"When Is A Settler An Old Settler"

Written in June 1916

By Laura Ingalls Wilder

(1867-1957)

An essay from the book,

"Little House In The Ozarks"

A Laura Ingalls Wilder Sampler

The Rediscovered Writings

Edited by Stephen W. Hines

1991 Guideposts Edition

*The war referred to was the American Civil War

* "How old is Ann" is slang for "Who knows?"