My memories about of my Grandpa Bare are vague and assisted by old home movies (That I seem to have misplaced).
I remember once or possibly twenty times going to the old
home place to visit. Once Dad was taking some movies with his old 8mm. There I
am running up and down the little hill in front of the house. At least once
Grandma Bare tries to hold me and Anita to pose for the picture. Vaguely it
seems that Grandpa Bare told us to hold still all the while Dad tried to
explain that he was taking moving pictures. In that old movie you can see Grandpa
Bare already walking in the shuffling steps I remember from the short time he lived
with us. I look to be about 6 years old (1958?) in that old movie. I paused
here to look up Grandpa Bare’s birth date And behold I have placed my copy of
the family history in some secure place I can’t find.
I remember the day that the grandparents Bare came for a
meal. Anita and I did something. (I deny being the instigator, though I
probably was). But when Dad threatened to spank me Grandma Bare interceded. “You
won’t spank him; he didn’t do anything.” Dad responded that I was his child and
he would give me a spanking if he decided to. I don’t recall a spanking or the argument
going further. My mom years later related that this was the first time my dad
had stood up to his mother. I don’t remember Grandpa Bare saying anything.
Though he might have.
The last year or so of his life he lived with us. Anita has already
told of her sitting on his lap eating ice cream. I remember her on his lap with
the Sunday comics, I think she was reading them to him.
The day he had one of his spells, they called it hardening of
the arteries, I think they were what we would call mini strokes. He had walked
out of the house arguing with dad about the need to go unhitch the horses. The
boys had left them all hitched up. After a brief argument he asked dad where was
the barn? Dad pointed out an old shed across the pasture north of our house
about half a block away. Grandpa Bare then told him “That quite a ways, I think
the boys can take care of those horses.”
Those times were rare. Most of the time he shuffled around
the house or quietly sat. I remember mom being worried about him carrying my baby
sister Patti around. Afraid he might stumble and fall. Yet she wouldn’t deny
him the pleasure.
One day shortly after Patti was born, she had been talking
to someone at the door, holding patti in her arms. When she came in and shut
the door, he was concerned at first. He thought someone had left the baby
During meals he would butter his bread. Seemed he couldn’t
eat with out some bread. And when we had peas, he would eat them with his
I wrote this some time ago. Thought I would share this here
I was around 10 the first time I saw an African-American. Two dark men in work clothes had backed a truck full of hay up to my Cub Scout den mother’s barn. The other guys and I were playing about 30 feet away from them. They had a boy about our age with them. He was a little bigger than we were. The other boys cut off running when they saw they had seen us. But to me the boy looked like a chance to make a new friend. I don’t remember if we said anything as we approached each other, I think I said “hi”. The next thing I knew I was on the ground with him on top of me. He wasn’t hurting me but he sure had me trapped. I heard the men yell “what are you doing?” I was wondering the same thing. He got up off me and ran to the men and started helping them unload the hay into the barn. I figured that’s why he had bigger muscles than me.
Several years later I learned why I didn’t see any other African-Americans around, when a guy in junior High told me “No n—-r ever spent the night in Pryor and none ever would. They didn’t dare to”. I kind of knew what that word meant but the only time I heard that word at home was when my mother was talking about her favorite nut (What we call a Brazil nut now). A phrase she dropped sometime before I left for college.
Around 1963, we began attending a church in Tulsa. There I developed a friendship with a boy a little younger than me named Richard. I really enjoyed playing with him. So much so I wanted him to spend the night some weekend like some of my other church friends had. I knew better that to spring this on my folks in front of him and his mother so I broached the subject one Friday night. They got the strangest look on their faces. Looked at each other then one of them said we can’t. “Why?” I wanted to know. “We don’t want a cross burnt in our front yard” was their reply. That mystified me. The very idea that someone would do something so strange because I had a friend spend the night. But the fear in my parents’ eyes stopped me pursuing that train of thought.
Posted in Uncategorized
So I got control of the twitter account using my email. The twitter agents were helpful. It was more of waiting, than anything else. So now I need to do more writing.
I’m all atwitter tonight because of twitter. On the advice of my Niece, Amy, I decided to open a twitter account. Much to my surprise I discovered that there was already and account open under my preferred email address. Not remembering the password I reset it. Behold a suspended account and a name user name I did not recognize.
Long story short. Someone in 2015 opened a twitter account using my email address. It might be wise to check if yours’s is being used.
So I finally finished the re-write. Major struggle that it was. I cut about 10% from the book. Took out at lease on story line. And now I’m ready to start submitting again.
Just added an image to share
I’m here to share myself on the web. To communicate with my
family, friends and hopefully readers. I have stories from my life and stories from
my imagination. I believe I have some
good stories to tell. Bear with me while I remember and conjure them.
On the trail back to Utroor.
“Jaernleik Tygeson from Hver Landnam?” The courier quizzed as
he walked up to where Jae and Catherine were sitting. Jae’s ears reddened as he
stood and acknowledged that he was indeed Jaernleik Tygeson. The packet had to
be from his mother, she was the only one who insisted on calling him by his
formal name. The one his grandpa Ingle had insisted he bear. “I’ve a packet for
you. I thought you were in Boar Akarn. Probably passed you on the road on the
way there. When I got there, they told me that you were escorting with the king’s
party on the way to Goa Vollar.” He handed a small packet to Jae and began to
“Can you take one I’m sending home?” Jae asked. The man was
a military courier and might have orders preventing him from carrying it to the
next station on the way back through the web of couriers that made the communication
network of Alfheim’s military. In peace time they also carried private letters
between the various towns and villages. The small fees charged helped defray
the king’s expense.
The man nodded his head that he could so Jae reached into
his shirt and pulled out the letter he had written to his family. He passed the
courier a halfpence as he entrusted the letter to him. With any luck it would relieve
his mother’s distress from the tales of the yetann raid that would have reached
their village. She would recognize that he was in the area of the raid and be
“So, your real name is Jaernleik?” Asked Catherine.
For once Drew did not attempt to redden Jae’s ears more. Jae
knew his given name as well. He considered Dureast. How his mother derived that
from dugr and oestr was beyond his keen. Naming a child courageous noble was by
far worse than play of iron any day.
I sent off 5 queries today. I told one agency that it felt like the church dances I went to as a teen. The pastor expected you to ask all the girls to dance. You steeled your self for what seemed like endless rejection, stepped up and embarrassed yourself and the girls. Thankfully some said yes and I survived. Hopefully this is true of queries about my book.
So this character appeared while I was trying to write something. I’m not sure what to do with him. He would fit into the dragon spine world, I suppose.
Thor Thorsen shared the family name with his father and his grandfather. If family history was to be believed he shared it with his grandfather’s grandfather. Somewhere in the distant past the family stories claimed that they were descended for the god Thor. That was why all firstborn males were named Thor.
A family tradition he would gladly abandon it he could. His mother was already matching him with a second cousin named Sif. Another family tradition. His mother was named Sif as was his grandmother. He was expected to marry a Sif. He had avoided that fate by joining the kings service when he was 15. The earliest they took students at Virkiflyot. If he had waited another year, he would have been married to his second cousin. Not that she wasn’t a pleasant enough girl. As his younger brother, Connor, had observed she was quite comely. Yet he wished that he had some choice in the matter. The kings college and service in the kings army gave him the best hope of finding a Sif of his own choice. Not one of necessity but of choice. So far, he had only met three women named Sif. The prettiest and closest to his age wasn’t interested in him and a rebuffed his advances. The other two were almost twice his age, maybe older.