i awoke this morning intending to be very productive. Continuing editing on my manuscript was high on my list. But first, i would prep the kitchen for Maureen’s French toast breakfast, straighten up what i forgot last night, repair some blinds, clean my grill, get rid of the pests attacking our tomatoes, and complete a post i began almost two weeks ago. Exercise and some more writing for friends were included.

Well, you see, i started piddlin’ with the excuse i was organizing my office, cleaning up the piles of paper and photos stacked in corners. Piddlin’.

So here is the result of that piddlin’. It is part of my effort to pass along family photos to family:

My mother and aunt in 1918. Wonder if any folks in Lebanon know about the “Novelty Studio.” It apparently was before Seat’s Studio was the go-to for portrait photography.

A family outing, in the Smokies, i think, in 1936. It was mostly Joseph and Kate Webster’s offspring…and one invited guest, my father, Jimmy Jewell, who is the first one on the left of the front row. Following down that row are Estelle Prichard, Bettye Kate Prichard, Ethel Bass, and Billy Prichard; second row: i’m not sure who the lady is. She appears too young to be my great aunt, Ida Wilson. I can’t name the gentlemen in the back row or the car. The second lady in the back row is Thelma Wilson Bass, the wife of Ethel. Finally, there is unmistakably my grandmother, Katherine, not soon enough to be known as “Granny,” Webster Prichard, the mother of the Prichard’s on the front row.

My mother, the graduating basketball star in June 1935:

This one, discovered in my Aunt Evelyn’s cache her daughter Nancy Orr Schwarze a couple of years ago, is the best photo i have ever seen of my Uncle Bill’s P51 Mustang he flew out of Britain during World War II.

Sometimes piddlin’ has its own rewards.

This is a post for the Prichard, Webster, Ferrell, and Wynn families. i am posting it here rather than Facebook as many of my kin receive notice these posts through email and not all are on Facebook. i have numerous others of folks from the paternal side of Jewell relatives. i think these might hold interest for many of those kinfolks.

My grandparents, Joe Blythe and Katherine Webster Prichard, 1912:

My aunt and uncle, James “Pipey” Orr and Evelyn Prichard Orr, 1944:

Sometimes strange things strike me as…er, meant to be.

You see, today i was involved in a bunch of to-do’s and began to do some serious work on the almost final (i’m sure there will be more edits after this one) book manuscript. While in the midst of the to-do’s, i stumbled across a plastic storage box. Unsure what to do with it, i took it into my home office and began to sort through it. Except for the Sam Brown sword belt from Castle Heights cadet days, all of the contents were connected to Daddy: photos, news clipping, items from his Navy uniform, a few videos, and yes, his obituary.

i had planned to post something about him today. He would have been 107. But i had just put it aside in my mind until i checked my calendar and then Facebook. On both, there was a reminder today is Allyson Odom Potts’s birthday. She and my father celebrated their birthday was on the same date. i sent her my best wishes. Her mother, Sharry Baird Hager, was one of my best friends of all time, an incredible platonic relationship.

i stopped with the to-do’s.

You know, i have written so much about Daddy here and elsewhere, this would just be a repeat. i reckon he might frown on doing it again.

So i will just post a few photos:

1943:

2012, at 98:

And Lord, do i miss him…every day.

This is a post for the Prichard, Webster, Ferrell, and Wynn families. i am posting it here rather than Facebook as many of my kin receive notice these posts through email and not all are on Facebook. i have numerous others of folks from the paternal side of Jewell relatives. i think these might hold interest for many of those kinfolks.

Last night, i sat outside and hurriedly wrote of Mike Dixon’s passing. As i noted, it was a tough night.

i think i have corrected all of the errors that were originally in that post.

This morning, i began to consider how to deal with Mike not being there when i go home (or perhaps he will be there when i really go home). i returned to a poem i have posted here before when other friends and family have left for the other side if not too soon, sooner than i hoped. This poem is for me, written after observing my parents in their early nineties.

There is one less of us waiting tonight. So my wait will be more difficult. Hopefully, repeating this poem will make it a bit easier:

Waiting Grace

the old folks sit in the too warm room,
television images blink randomly,
the mute button silences the room
although they do not know as the hearing aids
lie on their respective tables with other
paraphernalia required for the elderly;
they sit knowing the time will come soon:
waiting grace.
Noble,
Sad,
All is right with the world.
They and the remaining few of their generation
know how to demonstrate
waiting grace.
No threat, no fret, no fear
shows in their countenance:
they do what they can and
what they can decreases perceptively daily,
faculties fade and with the fading,
the joys of their industry escaping slowly:
waiting grace.
They have endured the test of time when
times were harder and
simpler and
they hold to those codes of right and
simplicity and
goodness to the neighbor, friend and
to service:
waiting grace.