Saturday, January 24, 2015

diary entry from June 17 2006

was very excited to find out that William Cullen Bryant was a character in a fiction book Forever that I am reading! listing: "This widely acclaimed bestseller is the magical, epic tale of an extraordinary man who arrives in New York in 1740 and remains ... forever. Through the eyes of Cormac O'Connor - granted immortality as long as he never leaves the island of Manhattan - we watch New York grow from a tiny settlement on the tip of an untamed wilderness to the thriving metropolis of today. And through Cormac's remarkable adventures in both love and war, we come to know the city's buried secrets - the way it has been shaped by greed, race, and waves of immigration, by the unleashing of enormous human energies, and, above all, by hope." November 2003

dad loved playing checkers with the grandkids, and taking them fishing, and letting them help him farm.....

Friday, January 23, 2015

Aunt Mary wrote that she & Aunt Freeda remember their Grandma Daisy Axsom singing Little Rosewood Casket.

found a youtube link....
couldn't find the lyrics on one had published them.
it was written in 1870, first recorded in 1920, often considered a folk song. found some lyrics on google!
There's a little rosewood casket
settin' on a marble stand
there's a package of love letters
written by my true loves hand
go and bring them to me, brother.
come and set upon my bed
lay your head upon my pillow
while my aching heart grows dead.
read them gently to me brother
read them til I fall asleep.
Fall asleep to wake in heaven
oh dear brother do not weep.
Last Sunday I saw her walking
with a gentleman by her side
and I thought I heard him tell her
she was soon to be his bride.
When I am dead in my coffin
and my friends have gathered round
and my narrow grave is ready
in some lonesome churchyard ground.
There's a little rosewood casket
settin' on a marble stand
there's a package of love letters
written by my true loves hand.

Ronald Harry Hesseltine November 26, 1943 - December 22, 2014 Resided in Alamo, TX -

Ronald Harry Hesseltine, age 71, of Alamo, Texas, formerly of Urbandale, went to his Lord on Monday, December 22, 2014 at Valley Baptist Medical Center in Harlingen, TX. Ron was born on November 26, 1943 in Washington City, Iowa to William Charles Hesseltine and Esther Lucile Rice.
He is survived by his daughter, Christina McNeley of Johnston, IA; son, Richard Hesseltine of Norwalk, IA; brother, Ed (Joan) Hesseltine of Tullahoma, TN; sister, Thelma (Herb) Glendenning of Simpsonville, KY; sister, Sarah Nightingale, Donna, TX; sister, Nancy Kellett, Hickory, MS and sister, Linda Hesseltine of Omaha, NE. He was preceded in death by his wife, Dona Lynn Hesseltine; his son, Craig Hesseltine; his father, William Hesseltine; his mother, Lucile Rice and a brother, Russell Hesseltine. He proudly served in the U.S. Army as an F & E Systems Repairman stationed in Fort Stewart, GA. After returning to Iowa, he worked at the Des Moines branch of Firestone Tire & Rubber Co. as a Millwright until his retirement in 1995. He was also an award-winning professional musician in Iowa and Texas and could play any stringed instrument. After retirement, he continued to enjoy playing music at jam sessions, riding his Goldwing motorcycle and golfing with friends. He was thrilled to have had two hole-in-one shots over the years.
A memorial service will be held at 12:30 p.m., Friday, January 30, 2015 at Iles Westover Chapel. Burial will follow at Iowa Veterans Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations be made to The Iowa Veterans Cemetery, 34024 Veterans Memorial Drive, Adel, IA 50003-3300.
Arrangements by Iles Westover Chapel - See more at:
ALAMO - Ronald Harry Hesseltine, 71, died Monday, Dec. 22, 2014, at Valley Baptist Medical Center in Harlingen. Skinner-Silva Funeral Home of Pharr is in charge of funeral arrangements. Published in The Monitor on Dec. 24, 2014 - See more at:

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Grandma Loves Me

Grandma loves me, this I know
'cause she always tells me so
she buys me things that I don't need
and sings to me till my ears bleed.
yes, Grandma loves me
yes, Grandma loves me
yes, Grandma loves me
and she always tells me so.
Grandma loves me, her friends know
'cause she always tells them so
they know that I am cute and sweet
from the top of my head
to my chubby lil' feet.
yes, Grandma loves me
yes, Grandma loves me
yes, Grandma loves me
and she always tells me so.
Grandma loves to watch me walk
and Grandma loves to hear me talk
and Grandma loves to watch me sleep
and take me for rides in my car seat.
yes, Grandma loves me
yes, Grandma loves me
yes, Grandma loves me
and she always tells me so.
Grandma loves to visit when I take a bath
and when I do my surprised face
she always laughs
Grandma loves to read to me
and just hang out and play blocks and watch tv.
yes, Grandma loves me
yes, Grandma loves me
yes, Grandma loves me
and she always tells me so.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Bad heart, broken leg; two different ailments.

Hometown Boy by Duane Dailey
column in The Mirror, December 31, 2014
Recovering from open-heart surgery is easy compared to repairing a broken leg. Wouldn't seem that way, but I can testify.
With heart surgery, it didn't take long to overcome the man thing. I soon found I could not care for myself. The most basic necessities of life were beyond my skills. I mean everything.
With only a leg break, I am not allowed total care. My offending appendage was put into a hard cast and I was sent home. That made sense to me. I can take care of myself.
Not long later I began to have an inkling, slight as it was, that I might not be in total control of my life. Yes, I had a walker that gives me mobility. Until you use one, you can't realize that you have lost use of one leg and two hands.
A walker allows hobbling about. That's it. Your hands can't carry what you need. Or, allow you to use what you need once you get there.
In heart recovery you are tied to a hospital bed with tubes, wires, and monitors. You know immediately you are not mobile. You have nothing needed nearby. All must be brought to you and done for you. A man gives up quickly and adores what care givers do.
This free-range recovery is a bit too rustic for me. I am a mobile, helpless man. Fortunately, there are women in this world who recognize this in an instant. And against all good commonsense they came to the aid of a helpless one-legged man.
My duahter took charge after heart surgery, when I was sure I could care for myself after the hospital. She was not going to leave town until I was committed to a care center. They had met men like me, before.
This time Janet gave instructions from afar. I am a bit more adept at listening now.
There is a special place in Heaven I am sure for Church Ladies. One opened a spare bedroom for me. Others provided things I did not know I needed, including a shower seat.
Then carry-in food arrived. Followed by calls of support and offers of help.
From my office it was not a Church lady, but a working journalist who knows what a hard-headed working writer needs. Electronic devices with power cords and chargers soon arrived, followed by working files of stories in progress. And, mail and all those newspapers.
Then reality hit. I needed help returning to the Emergency Room for stronger narcotics. Meanwhile, my daughter sent orthopedic-nurse ideas from Florida.
First get pain under control. Don't play tough man. Take enough pain pills, she says. "The longer in pain, the longer the recovery."
Work on getting swelling down. Swelling causes pain. That means getting fluids away from injured joints.
"Keep those toes above your nose." Her mantra helps my heart move blood back up hill. What an education I get in basic body repair.
The surgeon gives hope of freedom in three weeks. Reality comes from my daughter who cares for codgers in Florida. "Six weeks," she says. "You're an old man." Babies heal in a week. Three-year olds heal in three weeks. An old man takes longer.
After a full week, lessons sink in.
Now I adjust to practical needs. Order is brought to my life. Besides, I lack pep to cause too much trouble. I think.
I am a man of many clutters, reading and clipping newspaper stories.
Then I arrive in a household of ultra-order. No piles of clippings showing before I came, an early riser in a house of three late sleepers.
My life reaches sock-drawer order. Everything is in place. What a concept. I think I can survive a broken leg; maybe even order in my life.
Send your accident reports to or 511 W. Worley, Columbia, MO 65203.