CANDLELIT CHRONICLES: HISTORIC HAUNTS

March 9_"SuperCentenarians" plus Free Read_994 wc

Two of the “supercentenarians,” living folks over 100 years old, passed away in one day, on March 7, 2010-Sunday. One was nearly 115, the other nearly 114. The first was the remaining second-oldest living in the world and oldest in the U.S.; the second was the oldest living black person and fifth-oldest in the world.


http://www.aolnews.com/nation/article/two-of-worlds-oldest-people-mary-josephine...





http://grg.org/


http://grg.org/Adams/E.HTM





March 9 Free Read:


from The Phantom Logging Operation

Chapter 39 - - -

         I had come to my wits' end-once again. I only knew that I must either stop running like a skeert rabbit, every time some horror twitched, or-well, frankly, it was that or die. My Daddy didn't back down before the Hun Hordes-and he died trying. But he died bravely and I could too, and would if that became necessary. This runnin' and hidin' and scurryin' up under the bed type of behaviour wasn't me. Yes, I had grieved when Leill ran off in February; yes, I still grieved for my Mamma's death, and that were back fifteen months ago, in February of '56, before I'd met and married Leill Birmingham of Carbondale, State of Illinois, in a marriage that had lasted only eight months. But this wasn't grievin', this wasn't sorrow at the loss of loved ones-now, this was just plain skittishness and fear, and I would not have it-not any more. I was a man, only twenty-seven years old granted, but still a man, not a mole, not a field mouse, so why was I runnin' and hidin' like a vole tryin' to outdistance a predator hawk? This behaviour wasn't like me. Good golly, when I first moved up here to the Northern Woods Territories in February, homesteaded this close to The Big Forest, close enough I could see the edge of it waverin' and tricklin' in the distance, like a heat mirage on an August highway, I wasn't a-feard then! I slept in the back seat of the Mercury on cold nights, and when the weather grew a little warmer, I pitched an old Army surplus tent at the end of what would become my driveway, and tossed in my old sleeping bag and more or less slept out under the stars: no fear of lynx or bobcat, nor mountain lion nor bear (and we were far enough North, I believe, for bears). Not frightened by the night calls of owls, the chirping of crickets, the slither of grass snakes.  Not frightened at all until last Tuesday afternoon, scarce a week ago, when I planted perennials all day, planted them happily, encircling the perimeters of my newly erected cabin-happy and content until I saw the Log Truck-without a driver.





         I worked every night-except Saturday midnight to Sunday midnight-with a dead black farmer who passed over seven years ago, a burnt husk who worked like the dickens building walls and liked to slyly grin at me, and another man whose life status I didn't know-but I did know by now he worked for Testament Corporation, and that right there put his status, affinity, and allegiance in doubt. Still, he was a very helpful worker-all three were-and I could not have gotten as far on the Greenhouse as I had if I had been forced to work alone at night. I might have been able to work on it on Sundays-but then again, probably not. I realized also (and had very quickly into the process) that these three were not working on the Greenhouse to help me-they were working to get the Greenhouse up and running, available, sitting wide open, empty and ready for me to-what? Plant seedlings for nourishment, to sell at the Plant Nursery I was building behind the cabin? Become an amateur botanist and cross-hybridize crops? Raise orchids? (In THIS climate? Said the smarter portion of my brain) Well, I didn't know-YET-what I was to do in the Greenhouse. Initially I had plotted out the Plant Nursery in such a way that the Greenhouse would take up the entire East side and extend as far into the Nursery as I deemed necessary; after all, it was better to enlarge the Greenhouse first, as I could always extend an additional room to the opposite side of the Nursery building, or to the rear.


Actually, the space marked out for a Greenhouse on the East side of the Nursery was still in place; so I guessed I would go ahead and apply plastic to its walls and over its section of the roof. I could always grow regular plants and seedlings in there, while I worked in the Nursery during the day. I was certain whatever went on in the Greenhouse on the adjoining plot-now atop a tor-would not occur during the daylight hours, so I really needed to have a Greenhouse in which to grow plants for my business, did I not? Surely so, I told myself, and considered the matter settled. I did not consider that “my” normal Greenhouse inside the Nursery might be a “conflict of interest” in the viewpoint of the Greenhouse on the tor.





         Well, I had an extraordinarily long day planned for myself tomorrow: a trip down to Collins Junction to beard Attorney Benton Squires and get some more answers; a trip on to Madison Mills, another fifty miles, to locate the offices of Testament Corporation and its many-tentacled subsidiaries; and then back to Rennald to pick up my bonus payment from Todd's Garage for the Saturday afternoon work on the Testament Tow Division job on that old farm truck. While in Rennald I'd do a load or two of laundry, since so far my cabin lacked electricity-though I really needed to check with the County REMC and find out, if I could, when they would run poles out this way. Electric light and power would sure be an enormous help in running the Plant Nursery (though probably not The Greenhouse) and wouldn't I be thrilled to have electric heat next winter!