Ellen's Story--The Giving Tree

It was a Monday. We assembled noisily in the scattered line as we shuffled out the classroom door. While making silent faces trying to get others to giggle in a solemn hall, we reached our destination--the library. I loved wandering aimlessly through the library gazing at all of the bindings trying to decipher which adventures I wish to discover that week. I found two books on the new book rack. It was laborious to find books I hadn't read. The third book must be short, a beautifully illustrated picture book. Time was running out, in 156 seconds we would have to assemble in our line and trudge back for History class.   I would like to have stayed in the library for the remainder of the day, but King George seemed to call. Quickly, I nudged my sticky, peanut butter and jelly fingers along the well-used bindings… huh?...The Giving Tree by Shell Silverstein…He writes good poems…I’ll try it. I found my third book. What I didn’t realize was that I had discovered a treasure that I would cherish for eternity.

This book had no pirates, no animals, no overseas adventures, just a plain story about a boy and a tree. The tree loved for the little boy to gather her leaves, climb up her trunk swing from her branches and eat her apples. “The boy loved the tree… very much and the tree was happy.”

As time went on, the boy grew older, and the tree grew lonely. When the boy did come to visit he talked of material things. The tree gave the boy her beautiful, crimson apples to pawn so he could have money. Time after time he would come back, and she would give freely no strings attached. Each time she was happy to give. The tree's purpose was to please the boy--nothing could have made her happier. When the tree dwindled to nothing but a stump, the boy now, an old man, returned.  The tree was very sad for she had nothing left to offer but the boy, having accomplished everything in life, needed nothing but a place to sit and rest. The tree straightening up as much as she could, invited the boy to sit down and relax. “And the tree was happy.”

As a child. I read a quaint story about a boy and a tree. Now as I reread the book, my mind transforms a simple children's story into a complex symbol, deep with meaning. As I compare my life to the story, I become the boy and God becomes my tree. His roots are embedded in soil and no matter when or what I ask, He replies. He offers his apples and his branches. His trunk supports me in every task I take on. He gives me strength to help others in day-to-day life. When I have two AP English papers due, a physics test, a student council meeting, show choir rehearsal, and I'm scheduled to work all in one day. He gives me strength to carry on and still look forward to tomorrow. When I am sad. He lets me sit under him in his shade. When I am happy. He lets me swing from his branches. This modest children's story gives me abundant insight. I'm certain that no matter where I travel in life. My stump will be waiting. “And the tree was happy.”   

*With permission by the author:  Ellen Ryan, May 1993 the spring of her Norman, OK High School graduation. The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein was published in 1964.

2025 June

The Sanibel Public Library District’s board recently filled an open set on the commission, selecting Ellen Vinciguerra to fill the seat by a unanimous vote.

“The Sanibel Library has been a part of my life since I was a little girl as my family has been on the island since I was a child.” Vinciguerra wrote in her application to the district.

“Libraries are the heart of a community, and for Sanibel, it is the lifeblood of the island…Libraries are critical to the growth of a community.”

 Dear Ellen, If I may speak for the tree, for the teachers, the authors, and the libraries, "We are all so very proud of you and your love of books and libraries." 

 

Beyond the Books: The Stories That Matter

I don't know where this story begins, whether at the middle, the beginning or end or even who the heroine or hero might be. 

1911 fifth grade, Mrs. Donnelly teacher, Eastside School/Jefferson Elementary.  

I do know that for over three decades I have been collecting stories from students and teachers who went to Jefferson Elementary school in Norman, Ok. Our location is the original landsite school for Norman. The doors of Eastside school (1-12) opened in 1894 years before statehood.  

Of the one-hundred and fifty stories we have collected one stream flows throughout. Students recall when a teacher said or did something that made a difference in their lives. It may have been an art teacher who shared her paints and personal brushes with a girl who showed talent, a music/drama teacher who helped students stand in public and speak or sing, all school plays and programs that let the students shine, archeology digs, a story of failure in a grade only to be uplifted the next year by a teacher who understood him or her. Very few recall learning specific skills but they do recall the difference the ability to read, write, compute math, compromise, make friends, and understand how to problem solve made a difference in their lives.

Some even recall the memorizing "prepositions" in order: aboard, about, above, across, after, against......Over those first hundred years at Jefferson students memory work came full circle--memorizing Bible verses and poetry, to the Fifty Nifty United States through music, dance, and drama or times tables by flash cards. Oh, my!

Out of nowhere we may recall "The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on." Thank you Carl Sandburg. 

I joined the staff at Jefferson Elementary in 1978, and recall enough stories from working there until 1995 to fill a book, but it is the lessons I learned that come back to me most often.

I had already worked two years in a public library and three years as a school librarian in Greensburg, Kansas before moving to Norman in 1978. With a master’s degree in hand and five years’ experience, I thought I knew something.

Our library was the hallway in the 1958 blonde brick building with two bathrooms on the west end, ten sinks for each classroom, the heating units and water pipes ran under the library creating three steps down to each classroom.  On the floor in the hallway there were heavy steel cellar doors that could be lifted by two people, so students could step down in the hallway basement/cellar for shelter. It was dark and smelly under that hallway and most likely not even safe in a storm.

Audio Visual equipment being used in the library..1979. Molly O'Dea, John Satterlee, and Wes Hall. Behind Molly are the steps down to the classroom. 

The two ceiling to floor bookcases acted as walls between the classroom and library hallway and as shelving for books. There was no AC, but we did have windows and doors. On the East end a thin wall divided the library and entrance office for the secretary. 

Suddenly, I found myself in the center of the best learning experience of my life. I knew what every teacher was teaching, and could easily help them with various topics and studies. It was a two way street, as I learned. My strength came from my love of literature, and teaching children how to travel through time in books. Using storytelling and puppets opened doors for many of the children’s imagination.

So imagine my surprise when on a winter day a first grade teacher marched up the steps and stood in front of my desk. “Mrs. Rains, a young boy in my class who cannot read at first grade level keeps checking out books for older boys and girls. You mustn’t let this happen.” I nodded and took the book.

The next day, I presented a plan, "Mrs. Searcey, if you would allow Floyd to check out one book of his choice and one book on grade level would that be sufficient?”

Frances didn’t smile, but nodded saying, “We will see how that goes.”

Not long afterwards Floyd checked out a fantasy book that had won the Newbery Award for excellence in children’s literature, along with a large print reader on fist grade level.

It was the second or third time he had checked out that book. Later that week, I walked down the steps to his room and peered over his shoulders as he read and mumbled to himself. All along Mrs. Searcey kept her eye on us. “Floyd,” I asked, “would you show me or tell me what you are reading?”

Floyd looked up at me stoically and replied, “Don’t you remember this book you told the kids to read? It has a medal on it, and it is about a dog.”

“True,” I smiled while recalling that I had mentioned that book last November to the fifth graders, and that his desk must have been right behind the divider I put up to make a reading corner in the library. He had heard me talk about it and had seen it on the poster. “Isn’t it hard to read?” I asked. “No,” he replied. Then he opened the book and using his index finger he read every Dolch sight word on the page and the next page. I was humbled and nearly cried.

Floyd loved that book and I only hope that one day by fifth grade he was able to read and enjoy every word in it.

After school I explained what had happened. Frances looked at me rather solemnly then smiled ever so slowly, “I think Floyd taught us both a lesson today.”

1908--1994 Their Friendship Endured

Boys will be boys whether it is 1909 or 2025. In this photo the arrow is drawn to a young boy named Roscoe Thompson. Whether he was a close neighbor, a friend who teased the girls (my guess), or an ornery kid, we will never know. What we do know is that in the two photos donated by Nellie Beavers Childs in 1993, either she or Roscoe drew an arrow pointing to him, not to Nellie and not to her lifelong best friend, Metaline. What does this tell you?

I had the opportunity to interview Nellie in 1993 at her apartment on Hal Muldrow Dr. in Norman. Her is a portion of her story.

In second grade class we had Miss Callie Webster who was a beautiful 18-year-old teacher. We loved her.  One day it was snowing and we were standing by Miss Webster's desk when she asked the girl next to me how she kept her hair in curls all day. The girl answered, "My mother puts something sweet on it every day." The teacher felt her curls and sure enough they were stiff. 

1908 Eastside School (Jefferson). Look for arrow in the top right hand corner and then see the photo of a young boy named Roscoe Thompson. Roscoe was a friend of Nellie Beavers Childs, the lady who donated this picture to Jefferson for our 1994 for our Centennial. 

1909-1910 2^nd grade JEFFERSON SCHOOL (Nellie Beavers Child) Pictures

Teacher: Callie Webster

Row 1: boy,  Metaline Cathey, lived on N.E. corner of Finley and Gray. They had a store in one room selling tablets, pencils, etc. boy, girl, girl, Agnes Wolf (McComb)  and Thelma Walker.

Row 2: (did not identify which one) Chester Capshaw, son of one of our first doctors. 7^th person Marion Moffett. Her father ran a bicycle shop in 200 block of Main on North Finley street. Next Robert Durkie; next Otis Sullivant.

Row 3: 1^st girl Martha Lee McComb, 2nd girl Nellie Beavers, 7^th person Aubrey Davis, 12^th Roscoe Thompson, ___, 13^th head of Addie Wilson. 

I enrolled in first grade in 1908 even though I was only five years old. I could already read. The neighbors said I couldn't go because I wasn't six years old. My brother said, "I'll put the number 5 in your shoe and if your teacher asks you, you can say you're over 5 years old." My teacher never did ask. I think Miss Cook knew because she was a friend of our family.

Every morning, at noon and during recess our janitor sat at the top of the stairs, and he would hand sharpen our pencils using his knife. One pencil at a time. We didn't have pencil sharpeners.  In the morning he stood at the top of the stairs to see if any students were still running to school. If he saw any children he waited to ring the tardy bell till the last students were in the room. 

*Look closely at the photo. Roscoe drew an arrow from the chalkboard to the third row of boys. He is looking at the camera and has his elbow on the desk behind on top of books. 

We didn't have programs in the school like we do now. The only thing I remember is the Maypole dance in the school yard. Some students were selected from each class to wind the Maypole on May Day. 

Out of our first-grade class there were at least ten who graduated with me in 1920. I know five of them taught school.  In second grade we had seatmates, but I guess we talked too much, and the teacher moved one of us out of the seat and put a boy in our place. I had to move and sit with a different boy. I thought it was great because the boy she put me with I knew from church, but he didn't like it (I wonder if this was Roscoe?). None of the boys liked having a girl for a seatmate. 

I lived on the corner of Findley and Apache, about four blocks south of Main Street. The house is still there. My mother lived there when she was a widow with two little children. She married again and that's when I was born. 

In second grade I still had the same seatmate, but I guess we talked too much, and the teacher moved one of us out of the seat with a boy and put that boys seat mate with Marie. I thought that was great because the boy she put me with I knew from church, but he didn’t like it. The boys didn’t like having a girl for a seatmate. 

I grew up when Norman just had dirt streets. Then later they paved Main Street and University Street. I can remember my brother putting us both on a bicycle and going over to University street to ride on the paved road. I mostly played boys games because of my brother. He taught me how to play Mumble Peg, a game where you learn to throw a knife. I also played marbles and spin the tops.

When I was in the 4^th grade they commenced a basketball team. I think it was the 8^th grade girls. I never did see the boys play. Of course, the only people they played against was Washington. Washington and Jefferson, well they didn’t get along.

“Now these are girls?” I inquired.

Yes, on a girls team. They had to play outdoors. This would have been seventh and eighth grade girls.

I remember that they played against Washington school. It was terrible the rival between the two schools. It continued in high school so that they hardly mixed in high school. 

My last two years of high school a new course was put in called "teachers training." We had to teach all of the 8th grade teaching and many hours of observation. We had to take notes and come back to our teacher and tell her. If they needed a teacher in Eastside (Jefferson) they would send one of us. Six out of twenty of us went on to teach the next year after we graduated. 

They gave us a fake teaching certificate to begin with. If we taught for three years and went to summer school we earned a LIFE certificate. 

*Note: this is the new Norman High School opened in 1909 when Eastside school had outgrown the classrooms. It is the picture in the background of Nellie Beavers graduation picture. 

*The Moore-Lindsay House Museum has pictures from early year books online and I discovered that Roscoe, Metaline, and Nellie each graduated from Norman High School in 1920.

My first teaching job was to finish out a term in a sixth grade class in Muskogee. I discovered I didn't like that at all. Then I moved to Paden and taught high school English and Spanish. My principal said I had to teach Economics. I told him No and said, "Can't you teach it?"  His reply was a headshaking negative stare. So I had to teach Economics and study the night before each class to stay ahead of them. 

I taught several years before moving to Pittsburg, another coal mining town where I met my husband. We moved around with his job in the mines and I taught at Shawnee, Seminole, Wewoka, and Sayre.

At last we moved back to Norman and I taught at Norman High School where I retired in 1965.  

As with retirement, our story does not end here. No more mention of Roscoe in

her interview, nor does she talk about Metaline.

However, in the spring of 1994 Nellie Beavers Childs was accompanied by her

daughter and attended our 100 year celebration of Jefferson school. During that time she brought an oil painting done by her lifelong friend, Metaline Cathey Lee.

Ten years ago the librarian gave me this picture and said, "I think you know this lady and her story."

**Metaline writes in her own handwriting on the back of this canvas: This painting was done for my friend since first grade, Nellie Beavers Childs. The painting shows hibiscus blooming in Mrs. Cathy's yard in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas. Mrs. Childs spent winters in the Valley after she retired as a Norman High School teacher in 1965. 

And so, it has taken me from 1994 to 2025 to put all of these pieces together. Rest in peace Nellie, Metaline, and Roscoe. You made our world and better place to live, especially for the children in Norman, Ok. 

4/6/2025 The following stories come from my Facebook post about Nellie Childs:

I had Nellie Childs at Norman High School in the 1960's and loved here. Jane Ash Yearout

My sophomore English teacher at NHS and she was quite a lady! Vaughn Clark

I was a student of Mrs. Childs, also.  Judy Matlock

I had her for Sophomore English in 1960. As for Roscoe Thompson he was a former mayor and Bob Thompson's (Midway Deli) grandfather. He was also an uncle to my lifetime friends Patti and Jerry Nolan and Jim and Barbara Sellers. The Thompson's are a huge family and some of Norman's finest.  David Fries. 

We are the Jefferson Dragons. We symbolize "Power, Wisdom, and Chaos." Right now, we are sorting through the chaos and laughing...laughing and loving every moment of the research expedition into our history. 

Mrs. Watt, Librarian and author

Detective Who? Watt?

Does anyone other than myself remember the fatal crash of a P38 Lightning airplane crashing north of Jefferson grade school? (Glenn Smith  on Facebook)

February 2020 was the last date of my files on Jefferson Elementary (Norman, Ok.) history before Covid. 

During Covid I made a promise to finish my Miami Ok. Golf and Country Club history story, and I did. That also meant that I could not concentrate on two aspects of history at the same time, even though I continued to collect trivia and newspaper clippings about Norman and Jefferson. This history brain doesn't forget when there is an unsolved question.

What parachute? Where did it land? Why can no one find an answer? 

That question hung in the back of my historical, sometimes hysterical, brain until January of 2025. 

Notice the treeless prairie in this 1894 original landsite of Eastside school, later renamed Jefferson in 1916 after the building mysteriously burned to the ground, and was replaced. 

It took until January 2025 before a small team of teachers could once again gather to complete a project started in 1984--to finish the history of the original landsite school in Norman, Oklahoma where I was the librarian. With the help from Sallie Kennedy and Carol Upchurch we have a plan in place to compile and publish this fascinating time in Norman, Oklahoma. 

Jefferson is the original landsite school with enough history to fill a thick book. Like other buildings of its time, 1894, the three-story structure was known to lean and wobble with spring winds of Oklahoma. The first floor of stone work came out of the Rock Creek bed north of this landsite on the corner of East Gray and Cockrell. 

It housed grades 1-12. After statehood, Norman began to grow and needed more classroom space.  In 1916 this thinly clad red brick and stone building mysteriously burned to the ground a few days after the State Fire Marshall closed it after his inspection. A sturdier structure was built and opened for classrooms in 1916. The north and south wings of that structure still stand and have been reconfigured several times over the decades. 

The view is facing West or Stewart Street. This is the only picture we have found of the structure from 1918--1958 when the middle part was torn down leaving the north and south wings. The playground would have been a large area in front and behind this building.

From research in 2019 through elicited memories on Facebook about The History of Norman, I copied this paragraph: 1944 Lee Hester--That information puts me back to 7th grade in Jefferson school where I imagined seeing a parachute coming down. 

Debbie 

My dad wad a little boy and he would tell us stories about a plane crash about 1945, but was north of Wilson school. North of Robinson. His mom let his older brother walk up to see it, but said my dad was to young. My uncle found what looked like the tongue of a boot with blood on it. We have tried to research but can never find anything.

Thomas 

If it is the one that crashed during the war where the copilot was riding piggyback and didn’t reject. I remember my mom and I were on the main street by the Palace garage and vaguely remember hearing about that at that time. Didn’t know where it crashed. I was only about three or four years old.

 Glenn Smith

At the time of the crash a parachute was seen descending so one of the pilots did eject. The reason that I said that it was a fatal accident was because a friend and I rode our bicycles out to view the crash site after the authorities had done their thing and we found Little Things like a label out of a sweater collar and actually some flesh. After a fatal crash medical people gather up the bodies and everything else as well they can but they don't get everything. Many years ago I went on a crash investigation of a B-52 in New York state. The plane was flying at low level over a landing strip when something went wrong, and it crashed into the woods and burned. Most of the crew perished but the copilot managed to survive. When we went through the debris looking for technical evidence for the cause of crash, I found a hand with a wrist watch still around the wrist. 

Thomas F.  to Glenn Smith

I think I think what I remember is correct… That a guy riding piggyback was not able to reject and died in the crash. 

Steve 

I remember talking to a retired Norman firefighter in the early 1970's. He told me that he was at the P-38 crash in 1945-46 He said that the plane had crashed nose first in to the ground at the edge of a small pond and left a big smoking hole in the ground. He told me that 2 men were killed in the crash, me being a smart 11 year old boy I let the gentleman know that the P38 was a single seat aircraft. He told me that the plane was at Tinker AFB for some work and had the radio equipment removed from behind the pilots seat. This made just enough room for the pilots buddy to hitch that final ride. I recall the plane that crashed was the F-4 version, of the P-38E in which the guns were replaced by four K17 cameras. It was not ever clear to me where the plane crash was.

Larry 

I think the P-38 crash you are talking about happened on May 4th or 5th, 1945. The crash site was on my Great Grandparent's farm on the SE corner of Tecumseh Rd. and NE 12th (Sooner Rd). The plane went into a small pond and supposedly the engines areas still buried there. My dad saw it go down from Moore.

Bill Lessly to Larry

The pond was on the south side of NE Rock Creek Road between 12th and 24th. My Dad told me about the crash. I used to swim in that pond back in the 1970’s. The crash happened 11 years before I was born. Our farm was 3 or so miles NE from the pond.

Apparently, Glenn Smith felt as frustrated over this crash info as I did. He used the Daily Oklahoma and found the story, the true story about the parachute high in the sky that the kids saw one day while they were outside playing at Jefferson. The parachute would have landed about two miles north of the school grounds. In 1944 there would not have been big neighborhoods of houses, cars, buildings to the north.

PLANE CRASH KILLS

WILL ROGERS FLIER 

January 21, 1944 the Daily Oklahoman 

Crash of a P-38 one and one-half miles northeast of Norman,  Thursday morning fatally injured Lt. Harry G. Kirk, 22 of New York City. The plane burst into flames and was destroyed. Col. B.S. Thompson, commanding officer of Will Rogers field announced.  

Capt. Vernon E. Black, Madera, Calif. parachuted to safety and sustaining only slight bruises and minor shock. Capt. Black's temporary home is at 2014 N.W. 12.Cause of the crash was being investigated Thursday night by a board of air force officers. Kirk's mother, Mrs. Frances Kirk of New York City, was notified of her son's death.

**At this point I jumped up and hollered at my husband. I know where the plane crashed in 1944. It's only a few miles from here.  

I do take breaks away from the computer and it felt good to share my mystery with my husband and then to romp with the dog outside and laugh. 

Lonnie Morris

Hey Glenn, I remember the incident. Our teachers at Jefferson took us outside so that we could see the man in the parachute still on his way down.  

Lockheed P-38 website and credit for photo 

Lee Hester, thanks for your research (Glenn Smith) and the good information. That clears up some things in my mind. The newspaper puts the date at 1944. which puts me back to 7th grade in Jefferson grade school. All the time that I have been thinking about this incident, I have imagined seeing a parachute coming down, but I thought it was my imagination. In a post by Lonnie Morris, he said that he was in Jefferson school when that happened and they took the students outside to watch the parachute coming down. That makes it possible that I really did see a parachute. 

We are the Jefferson Dragons. We symbolize "Power, Wisdom, and Chaos." Right now, we are sorting through the chaos and laughing...laughing and loving every moment of the research expedition into our history. 

Mrs. Watt, Librarian and author

 1978-95

Eating Fried Worms

We wondered what it must taste like to eat fried worms, but no one knew the answer. 

After reading Rockwell's How To Eat Fried Worms by Thomas Rockwell, one student stepped up and volunteered to eat fried worms for his class. Brad Driver became a hero in the eyes of his peers that day. 

Ellen Ryan volunteered to help me fry the worms. One Friday in February 1985, I bought big juicy fishing worms from the Bait Shop on Alameda and Cockrell St. in Norman, Ok.  We set up the experiment in the Jefferson School Library, using a  borrowed travel stove top, we added oil to a pot. When the grease began to steam we one by one dropped slimy wiggly worms into the hot grease. 

Brad Driver, Ellen Ryan, and Mrs. Watt

Ellen and I nearly fainted as we watched the worms wiggle and struggle to pop out of the grease. For several years I carried a grease burn on my right arm when one worm flew out of the grease and landed on my arm!  There was gasping in the audience of fourth graders. The screams were held chest tight until Brad Driver took his first bite and swallowed. 

Suddenly, screams of delight and fear echoed through the 4,000 square foot library, ceiling to floor and more than likely out the door. 

One bite and Brad continued until a half dozen crispy curly friend worms, without ketchup or mustard, went down his throat. His mother, Mary Ann Driver made sure to attend this daring act of her son's. She also provided a permission slip for Brad's menu, written on a napkin :)

The fourth grade teachers, our principal, Pat Wiggins, and a few district administrators along with two classrooms of students watching gave Brad a standing ovation that morning. 

Our question still remained. What did a worm taste like. After the applause, one hand waved and asked, "What did it taste like, Brad?" 

"Mushy sticky dirt!" Brad replied with a smile across his face. 

No one was disappointed, and the aarghs and ughs continued until the library was empty of students. Where upon in the dead of winter, I opened the outside door to allow the aroma of fried worms to filter into the fresh air. 

*With the onset of winter I looked around the house for a project. First, I found tubs and notebooks of papers, stories, ideas, notes, and recipes. I took the time to go through one tub and ended up trashing every sheet of paper. The next few plastic containers did not get my full attention. I simply carried them outside to the recycle bin and tossed. Note to self: I haven't missed a sheet. 

I relaxed and patted myself on the shoulders, having been uplifted by the papers now being recycled instead of collecting dust. 

One box and several scrapbooks stopped me. Memories and pictures of library events and teaching from 1972--2008 faced me. By the end of January of 2025, I was ready to accept the challenge to complete what had been started in 1984, added to immensely in 1994, neglected until 2018-2019, then stalled by COVID on February 20, 2020.

This year in mid-January our Jefferson Elementary team of Sallie Kennedy, Carol Upchurch, Kathy Taber, and I began the journey again to complete the collection of stories and memorabilia from 1894-to 2019--The 125-year history of our school. 

After all we are the Jefferson Dragons. We symbolize "Power, Wisdom, and Chaos." Right now, we are sorting through the chaos and laughing...laughing and loving every moment of the expedition. 

As you follow along with us through Literally Letty, I hope you find our history a little bit like your history, filled with joy and sorrow, uplifting moments and drops in disbelief, positive thoughts sharing space with the negative, and celebrations along with disappointments. In the end, I believe that good actions, good deeds, kind words, positive thoughts, and team work make this world a better place. 

And it never hurts to have a lot of guts to step out of your comfort zone and do something amazing, even if it is eating six fried worms. 

 

Mind Travels

and the next time you gaze at the sky...dream dreams by Peter Spier

My mind does not travel

  like a driver on the Interstate.

It flows down old-fashion by-ways,

  through curious towns--

talking to strangers

smiling at all and

wondering what comes next. 

       Letty Watt

       

The white ring-neck dove sitting on the bird feeder this morning caught my immediate attention when I sat down to write. My movement caused a flurry of wings and explosion of energy as he flew away. Before I could could write a single word the finches arrived, three males with the rosy red heads and two brown to blanche females who seem more nervous than the male. The male finch showed off his rosy patch on his back while flitting from perch to perch. Thank you nature for this rosy distraction. 

Suddenly, the cold rains stopped the birds from feeding, so it may be a while before I am distracted by the doves, finches, Cardinals, or lively Carolina Wrens that feed and sing for us daily. 

January usually finds me thinking about resolutions and goals. In 2016 I wrote a resolution in this story Goals from the Heart.  I am still working on that resolution.

Eastside School  1894

This year after my 72nd birthday I began to count--all of the places yet to visit, all of the tasks yet unfinished, all of the new things yet to learn, all of my friends and family yet to enjoy time with, all of the projects yet to begin, and all of the books yet to read. Will I make it to 103?

From the simple word HOW I realized that it is goals I need to help me pursue tomorrow and all the days that I have left to enjoy. By definition a goal provides a direction to follow to achieve a desired outcome. Goals involve intention setting, planning, preparing, and taking action. 

Jefferson 1938

These steps are like my plans to stay strong and active, mentally and physically.  Then somewhere in the recesses of my mind I hear my mother sing to me a Frank Sinatra song called Love and Marriage. She used that song frequently when I wanted to do more things in a day than time allowed. "You can't do one things without the other." I was left to interrupt the message.

When Women's Golf made the social page of the newspaper. 1965.

Last fall the Women's Oklahoma Golf Association asked me to take on the task as historian. When I discovered a closet full of old scrapbooks that needed attention my mind began to swirl. 

One task of organizing history led to another. Since 1994 I have carried with me both on paper and in my head and heart the 100 year history of a school where I once taught, Jefferson Elementary in Norman, Oklahoma. With the help of Kathy Taber, Carol Upchurch, and Sallie Kennedy we have a team and a goal to collect the colorful history of Norman's original land site school in 1894. 

Needing help, I turned to the the University of Oklahoma's Western History Collection for guidance. Jacquelyn Reese helped me build a plan for success with both of my tasks.  Now on each notebook in bold print I keep the steps to organizing history: COLLECT, SORT, LABEL, PRESERVE, AND SHARE. It sounds so simple. 

 

Jefferson 1994 (mural by Peggy Smith)

  This month I've designated for the "sorting party" celebrations. We have begun our sorting parties at Jefferson on Thursday afternoons.  On January 28 we will be sorting women's golf history at Tulsa Country Club. Each time I think of sorting my mind always strays to Harry Potter and the 'sorting hat' that originally belonged to Godric Gryffindor, one of the founders of Hogwarts. Since our stories are old like Hogwarts I hope we will find the same magic with our sorting parties. 

Sorting at home. 

NOTE: If you would like to help with the either collection of history, please leave a comment in the section below this story. I will  reply.

Other stories pertaining to Jefferson and Women's Oklahoma Golf Association you may like to read:

Jefferson: Inspiration--A Story a Story  ( a story about stories and puppets)

Jefferson:Golf Gypsy: The Secret to Staying Young (a story about Lois Cowles)

WOGA;Letter to Dad

WOGA;  Herstory: Susan Basolo
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