THE COWBOY

I grew up on Gunsmoke, Have Gun Will Travel and Wanted Dead or Alive. A real man looked like Matt Dillon, Wire Pallidan or Josh Randall (i.e. James Arness, Richard Boone and Steve McQueen). There’s a simple explanation for this. Pop said having a television in the house was “sinful.” So every Saturday night we were all over at Uncle Dent’s watching the westerns. Guess they weren’t “sinful.” But I kind of liked the cowboys, and western music, Home on the Range, I’m An Old Cowhand, Red River Valley and the rest of those good old songs we sang on Friday afternoons at club meeting at Bandyville School. Later in life I became a fan of the Rider’s in The Sky. I saw them with my friend Clara at John A Logan and in Paducah. Very impressed with ‘the cowboy way.’ In 1989 I was struggling with my mother’s third stroke. I was working at Dr. Hyde’s office in oncology. I didn’t have time for much else. My dear Aunt Helena, who had spent most of my life giving me advice or telling me outright what to do, said to me one day, “You should go out with Harry’s nephew.” I said, “No thanks, too busy, not looking for a man”. So she backed off for a bit. The nephew’s name was Gary Frey. His mother Marie was Uncle Harry’s sister. Uncle Harry was Aunt Helena’s sixth (6th) husband. I didn’t think much of her marriage record, but Uncle Harry was a very nice likable guy. I was over for supper one evening. Aunt Helena was at the sink. Uncle Harry and I were still sitting at the table. He put down his iced tea and looked at me. He asked, “Well, now tell me, Doris Ann, what kind of a man are you looking for?” I immediately replied, “I’m NOT looking for a man. Did that once, had enough, not interested. Period!” So he looked away and we talked about other things. She remained quiet, which was pretty unusual. I suspected they were up to something. So after awhile, he resumes his questioning, elbow on the table and asks, “Well, now, Doris Ann, just tell me. If the right kind of guy just came along, what would he be like? What would get your attention?” So the ‘imp’ in me, says, “Hey, just play along, maybe then he’ll leave it alone.” So I sat back, and gazed out the patio doors and said, “Hmmm, well, Uncle Harry, I think maybe about six foot and blond hair, a guy with pretty blue eyes, built strong, and you know, he just needs to be a cowboy. You know he needs to look like a cowboy. He needs to walk the cowboy walk, and be true and strong and down to earth. Now, I don’t care if he messes with horses, because I don’t want him to smell bad. But he definitely needs to live ‘the cowboy way’.” Uncle Harry never blinked an eye, just looked away and said, “Okay.” In July 1989 Mother passed on. I was standing by her casket at the visitation when Aunt Helena came in with Uncle Harry and behind them was Uncle Harry’s brother Jack and a tall red head. Aunt Helena introduced me to Jack and Gary, the nephew. I noticed a western cut to his suit and he did have on dress boots. Red hair, tall skinny guy and his ears stuck out. Very polite, he offered his condolences, took my hand. That was about it. The next morning I called Aunt Helena, and accused her of bringing Gary to meet me at my mother’s wake. What in the world was she thinking? She informed me that Jack and Gary were there because, after all, my mother was her sister. Time passed and it was early September. She had started all over again, telling me, every phone call, what a fine guy he was, a coal miner, and said he didn’t drink or smoke and that we’d be so good for each other, that he loved country music too. She said he was lonely since his wife died. She said that I needed a good man. She kept it up, over and over, wanted to give him my phone number. Ever have one of those moments when you spout off something out of your mouth and then wish immediately that you could take it back? You’d like to crawl down a hole? Well…… One day the conversation went something like this: Aunt Helena: “He is really a nice guy and you two would be good together.” Doris Ann: “Well, enough, Aunt Helena, why would I listen to you anyway, you’ve been married SIX times ?” Aunt Helena: “Well, I finally got it right!” Doris Ann: “Okay, you can give him my phone number. If he’s got enough guts to call me, I’ll go out with him and see if he’s got any balls!” Whoa, shut my mouth and crawl in a hole. I’m just looking for a cowboy ! Not a skinny red neck coal miner. NO Way ! So she did and he called on Wednesday evening. Asked me out for Thursday night, but I had a class at J. A. Logan. Asked me out for Friday night, but I had plans with a friend from the office. I’m thinking, “No way, he’s going to ask me the third time.” Well, he asked me out for Saturday and I had nothing so I said ‘okay.’ We had a date for 4pm Saturday afternoon. He said he’d be there. Saturday morning I picked up the house, got cleaned up, and just about chickened out. I called Aunt Viola. (I figured she’d be more likely to listen to my reasoning.) And told her I didn’t want to go and that I was about ready to call him and just drop it. She said I shouldn’t do that, that she met him at Mom’s wake and thought he was really nice and besides that I had told him I would go. So I shut up and waited. My front bedroom looked down on the drive way. I’m sitting on the side of the bed watching out the window. It was 4pm and no dirty coal miner’s truck in my driveway. Good, maybe he’s not coming. But at 4:15, a pretty blue Ford BRONCO with silver trim pulls in. The sun is glaring over the house roof top onto the Bronco front window so I can’t really see inside. The driver’s door opens and below it protrudes a long leg in Levis and a cowboy boot. WHAT! And then he gets out. Next I see the leather belt and a cowboy belt buckle, a western shirt. Then the tall skinny red headed cowboy reaches into the BRONCO and pulls out a tall green vase with a dozen red roses already arranged. I’m ready to head for the back door. He rings the front door bell. I go to the door, open it and he puts the vase of roses in my hand. I just stand there, looking at them. Then I looked at him, and I said, “Really, Gary, you shouldn’t have.” And he just looked back at me and said, “Why, aren’t you worth it?” If I had run for the back door or crawled into a hole, I’d have lost. It took me another six months to believe in him, but I finally came around to ‘the cowboy way’.

Gary Frey Applebutter

We Make Apple Butter OK, you get a Gary Frey story . He loved apple butter. His mom use to make it. She put a whole bag of cinnamon drops in each large batch. so Gary said maybe we could make it. so we went to Murphysboro in the fall and got a couple (?) bushels of apples. Oh, then we went to Walmart and bought an apple peeler, then I borrowed crock pots from friends. Well we got all the apples peeled, (I think he wanted Jonathans?) and filled up 7 different sized crock pots. So the new directions said cook them all night then take the lids off the last couple hours, so they'd cook down, less liquid I think. Oh the house smelled wonderful ! So finally it all ended up in a huge blue spotted tin pot which was actually the canning pot. Then he dumped in the cinnamon drops, yeah a whole bag. Then we cooked it down and canned it and he loved it. I had fun....

JUNE, not just another month!

  I had an interesting experience in June. 

Well, I had several but this one stands out as
a rather unique kind of situation. 

I was driving through the Refuge and noticed
the sky was sort of unusual. 

There was a low bank all the way
across the sky in the West. 

It wasn’t time for dusk yet, so obviously
the sun was behind the cloud bank.

 

 

I slowed the van and stopped at the roadside when possible. 

As the evening slowly progressed,
the cloud bank seemed not to move,

but world kept turning and
the sun began to peek through.

 

 

The silhouette of the trees reaching up to welcome

the sun's evening rays framed a beautiful picture.

 

 

The sun found its way from behind the cloud bank

as it prepared to set beyond the horizon.

 

 

 

It was both a sunrise and a sunset. 

So I called it an

UPSIDE DOWN SUN RISE !

 

Doris Grant Frey © June 2017

May 2017, Things to Celebrate

May is my birthday month, and it also marks two full years
I've been here at the house. 

It's really a great month for a celebration. 
So. . .  Roses, why not?

There are five bushes, white in the center, pink on each side, red on the east end and you can barely see the beautiful yellow on the far end by the deck.  My friend Lawrence planted them all in the summer of 2015, so they're in their second year and blooming beautifully.

This is my backyard.  It's a very active area. 

Squirrels, rabbits, a single groundhog,

occasionally deer, a large variety of birds.

And this year something really unique happened. 

Owls, not a good photo shoot but definitely owls. 

They visited late at dusk every evening for about three weeks. 

Then   . . .  well . . . I still watch for them.

 I guess you might say I did some serious bird watching in May. 

To celebrate my birthday, special friends Clara and Sara rode to Kentucky with me. 

Sara had some inside info on an eagle's nest that was especially visible

and info that there were baby eagles. 

So we found the spot. 

Honestly, it was a birthday gift just to be that close to an eagle's nest,

let alone to be able to just look up and see the young eagles. 

They were no longer babies, but had not gotten their color changes yet or left the nest. 

So here's some of what we saw. 

Enjoy!  I sure did. . . .

And perched aloft in a neighboring tree, a proud parent.

And this is my local guy out at Pigeon Creek at Crab Orchard National Wildlife Refuge center.

And the old grey haired guy at Wolf Creek Causeway. 
He's always hanging out there. 

Waits for someone to throw him a fish.  Yeah !

 

And back home at Herrin City Park, we got the baby geese. 

Honestly, who doesn't love the  month of MAY !

Doris Frey © 2017

APRIL NATIONAL POETRY MONTH 2017

APRIL is NATIONAL POETRY MONTH

 

 

ISPS Illinois State Poetry Society chose the theme of "Travel" for the Poetry Displays through Illinois libraries.

 

The Southern Chapter of ISPS meets monthly at the Carbondale Public Library.  I attend that chapter and participated in the "Travel" theme.

 

This is my "Travel' poem.

 

 

       THE EXIT SIGN

 

I was barreling down Life’s highway

In the fast lane,

When I saw you,

Standing there under that big 

Green highway sign,
 

“Paradise, this exit.”

 By Doris Ann Grant Frey  © 2017

 

 

 

 

I chose the Alaska photo from Gary's collection

because he was the reason I wrote it!

 

These photos are from the display at the

Carbondale Public Library all of April.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The week of April 16 - 22 is Cowboy Poetry Week,

so I shared my Cowboy poems.

 

 

 

This is my post on the ISPS website for April.

 

AND I actually wrote a new one for April 2017

Poetry Celebration.

 

 

 

 

The Herrin City Library had a project to write a poem using word clips in a cardboard box.  Various words and phrases cut from magazines, paper etc.  So I got brave and pieced together a poem.  Strange for me because I usually 'piece' together some patches of fabric for a quilt.  So we'll see.

 

 

So next came an Haiku effort from a trip to the Crab Orchard Refuge, but it seemed so appropriate to piece it onto a loved happy quilt.  See what you think.

 

 

 

 

And my prayer poem for April:

Prayer for April

Dear Lord,

When I think about your grace,

I must make time to seek your face.

I need the shelter of your love.

And when I feel your warm embrace
And sense the joy in this special place
I know the shelter of your love.

Thank you, Heavenly Father !

 

Doris Frey © 2017

 

 



March 2017 Memories of Richard Stauder

Richard L. Stauder

Nov 17, 1945 - Mar 10, 2017 

 

Richard's Story

INDIANOLA - Richard L. Stauder, 71, of Indianola, passed away at 8:02 p.m. Friday, March 10, 2017, at the Decatur Memorial Hospital, Decatur.
Richard was born Nov. 17, 1945, in Herrin, to John R. and Mary E. Newton Stauder. Surviving are: one son, Jonathan M. Stauder of Indianola; one brother, Bob E. (Lois) Stauder of Tulsa, Okla.; and one sister, Joyce Ann Rinella of Paducah, Ky. He was preceded in death by his parents.
Richard was a biology, English, and French teacher at Jamaica High School for 25 years. He liked to exhibit poultry. He loved to breed dogs and go to dog shows. He was especially proud of his pure bred miniature Pinschers. He enjoyed horseback riding and traveling.
Funeral services: 10 a.m. Thursday, March 16, 2017, at St. Nicholas Antiochian Orthodox Church, 312 West Elm Street, Urbana, IL with Father James Ellison officiating. Burial to follow in Herrin City Cemetery, Herrin. Memorials to the church. Robison Chapel, Catlin, is handling the arrangements. Online condolences at www.robisonchapel.com.

Published on  March 11, 2017 in Commercial News

RICHARD 

Some days just don’t turn out like you expect.  I was going to play the piano for our chapel service at the nursing home.  First time I’ve been for quite a while.  I had some medical issues, a long winter and there was a new lady who played the piano.   She seemed to be enjoying it so I backed off to let her have the blessing.  Now she has moved on, so I’m trying to resume the blessing.  I love playing along with four guys on guitars, love the awesome feeling to be a part of a group playing our Lord’s music.

An old friend from high school has died.  We’ve not been in touch much since graduation, just a message here and there.  But he was special.  He was one of those unique totally memorable personalities.  Many thoughts of him have invaded my mind since I learned of his death.  His funeral was this morning in Urbana.  They were bringing him to be buried at Herrin City Cemetery.  Graveside service was to be around 3 p.m. and a mutual friend Rev. Ralph Brandon was to speak.  I was supposed to be at the chapel service at 2 p.m.  Since it was my first time back at the nursing home I hated to cancel.  I hoped to be out of the nursing home service and back over to the graveyard at least before the graveside service was over.  I don’t walk good on uneven/dirt/grass anyway so I planned to stay in the van, roll down the window and watch and listen from wherever I could park.

My memories of Richard begin as a freshman at Herrin Township High School.  We shared many classes and common interests.  Love of biology found him in the high school green house after school, waiting for the bus.  My Uncle Frank lived behind Richard’s folks in Energy and I occasionally visited both.  Richard had a chicken coop and rabbits and other ‘pets’ as well.  He loved horses too.  I rode Uncle Frank’s horse Flicka one day but that’s another story.  I know some thought of Richard and me as a couple but it never really got that far.  We were good friends and he was a fun guy.  One time Ralph invited me to go with his Sunday School class on a picnic.  It was at Fern Cliff and when we got there it was a pretty nice gang, including Richard.  Lots of fun, but more remarkable when Richard (already near six feet tall) climbed up on top of a picnic table and announced that he was running for the position of dog catcher for Johnson County.  Of course, we clapped and laughed.  That was Richard. 

 

 

Richard, Doris and Ralph

 

Our senior year, it was time for prom.  I hoped he would ask me.  I so wanted to go with him in a suit and me in a formal.  I waited and waited.  Finally one day he said, “Doriska, (that was my Russian nickname from Richard) know what we should do while everyone else is at the prom?”  So I answered, “What?”  He said that we should get our graduation caps and gowns early, put them on and parade up and down Park Avenue that evening.  That was Richard, funny guy.

After we graduated he finally asked me for a date.  We went to a show and he brought me home.  I was standing on the first step at our back door, he was on the ground.  So at this point our heads were level.  He leaned in and kissed me.  Immediately, he straightened up and abruptly turned and ran to the door of his truck.  He fell into the front sprawled across the seats and his feet hanging out.  I watched him for a while, then gave up and went inside.  Eventually, he recovered, got up and left.  Pretty much, that was Richard.  We both left for school in the fall and lost contact for years to come.

I got to the cemetery about 3:30 p.m.  The grave crew was already filling in his grave.  I was able to park as close as possible to watch.  I stayed until the last pile of dirt was leveled and carefully pressed down on his grave.  The grave crew worked so diligently.  The hearse driver and the Orthodox Father stood by throughout the burial process.  It intrigued me as I sat in the van, waiting, wishing I’d been more present in his life.  I’m glad his burial plot is at the edge of the cemetery, close to the trees and bushes of the woods nearby.  He loved nature, living things, biology.  When the grave crew pulled out all the tools and cleared the area, Father James bowed his head.  He took out the Holy Water and carefully poured it in the form of a cross on Richard’s grave.  He crossed himself and made a final prayer.  I watched from the van as he turned and came toward his car.  I moved my van so the hearse could begin to make its way back to Urbana.  I pulled over by the Father’s car hoping to have a word.

He walked over and stood at my window.  I introduced myself as did he.  Conversation moved easily, both of us comfortable with fond memories and thoughts of Richard.  I reminisced about a teenage boy who was so much fun.  Father James describes an adult man, dedicated teacher, lover of nature, caretaker of animals and special dog breeder.  He talked softly about a man who never married, said he had a serious relationship but it had gone bad.  He tells me that Richard had rescued two young boys, the first his family had abandoned.  He pulled the second boy from another bad situation.  He says that all Richard wanted was for them to grow and to love each other.  He described the man who joined the St. Nicholas Antiochian Orthodox Church.  He said Richard had chosen ‘Nicholas’ as his own Russian name.  He said Richard loved people, always asking folks to visit and enjoyed being in a group.  I asked Father James about Richard’s last days.  He described a sad downhill journey of Parkinson’s and depression, and finally loss of contact with life as we know it. 

We can’t turn back the hands of time.  Typically we only learn from life what we choose, but sometimes things just pop up and stare you in the face and then we wish.  I wish I’d spend less time just laughing at and with our Richard and more time getting to know the real guy inside.  I think he was pretty special. 

Doris Grant Frey © March 16, 2017

Valentine's Day Feb 2017

I was really spoiled on Valentine's Day.  Gary could find the most beautiful cards, and the prettiest flowers and of course, a huge heart shaped box of candy.  He did that every year.  I was pampered and just plain spoiled.  So this year I want to pay a tribute to him, that precious red-headed cowboy who taught me about love.

 Some time ago I was telling one of the young waitresses about my cowboy and she asked if I had a photo.  Well, not with me, can you believe that, a phone with no picture on it and a wallet with no photo in it.  So for Valentine's Day supper I decided to go to Chuck's BBQ in Herrin, Illinois. I decided to take Gary with me and let the girls meet my guy.

I propped us up by the salt shaker and proceeded to show everyone my guy, Gary Frey.  You know what, I had a really nice time with that red headed cowboy.  Somehow it just seemed he was right there.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

I HOPE YOU HAVE JUST ONE SOMEONE WHO LOVES YOU SO SPECIAL!

My poem on the Illinois State Poet's Society website for February: