Hilltop 45's

Today's blog post is written by my mother-in-law and was prompted by the Instagram photo-a-day challenge #records put together and hosted by Genealogy Girl Talks

In 1959, 1960 maybe 61, my mom and dad, Lum & Jessie Bates owned and operated a cafe in Sulphur Springs. It was located at the top of the hill on the way out of town. Hence the name Hilltop Cafe. When you entered the door there was an eating bar that had stools. To the right of this was the main dining area. In the dining area, besides table and chairs, there was a pinball machine and a jukebox. The jukebox is the focus for this post.

There was a vendor that would come regularly to change out the records. Once the records were removed. These could be bought for about 25 cents and sometimes they were just given if they were not played a lot. There was a counter inside the jukebox that kept a count of how many times a record was played. To encourage playing music, Dad would put money in the machine. This money was returned to him when the vendor came. They could tell what money was Dad's because he marked his with red fingernail polish. That money he got back before his profit was calculated. I don't know how his profit was calculated . That was how I got my 45's. Many of them I still have.

The labels of the ones pictured:

• Liberty, Willie Nelson, Touch Me
• Sun Records, Johnny Cash, The Ways Of A Woman In Love
• RCA Victor, 'Nita, Rita and Ruby, Last Night In My Dreams
• Mercury Records, George Jones, Out Of Control

At the end of mom and dad's cafe was a shop and dad built truck racks there. Here is a picture of the tags he put on those racks:

Sew Terrific

I recently went to my mom's to gather pictures for the post I did on all the houses we grew up in and while I was there she dug out her old scrapbook. It's amazing to me the things you don't always know about your parents.

I knew she could sew. She made curtains and reupholstered a few cushions when I was growing up. she may have made my square dance dresses but I'm not sure. When she would get out her sewing machine do do these things I just figured the knowledge came from experience working at Levi's and La-Z-Boy. But as it turns out, she was a pretty good seamstress even in high school. She won a sewing competition her Junior or Sophomore year and placed second another time. Not only did she sew the items she's wearing, she also designed them.

Here are a few pictures from the newspaper articles she had in her scrapbook.

Until next time,
Becky

The House(s) That Built Me

It's a rainy day today. The kind of day that is perfect for inside chores and relaxing. We have recently moved to what we think will be our last home. How many times do people think that, and end up moving again? I thought I would use moving and the houses I have lived in as a prompt for a blog post. If my children ever end up interested in this crazy hobby of documenting family history, they may find this one interesting.

House # 1

When I was first born, my parents lived in the same house my Dad still lives in. Right next door to the slaughter house that employed him and that his family owned during the 1970's-90's in Canehill. That house was built in the 1960's and has gone through a lot of upgrades through the years. My Step-mom has a great knack for seeing improvable space. When I was growing up, that house had a pea green carpet in the living room and I think, hallway. My room had wood floors, and so did the family room. Dad's room had a flat red carpet, not plush at all. The kitchen had linoleum that had the same pea green colors of the carpet in its pattern. When I was in my single digits, it had two bathrooms. The one you entered directly into from the hallway was pastel pink and had a bathtub. It had the wall tiles similar to this picture.

The one you entered into from the laundry room was pastel blue and had a shower. Later on, walls were torn down and it became one larger bathroom. This was a 3 bedroom home. Growing up I went back and forth between the two bedrooms at the back of the house. When I was in my teens, I helped remove the old pea green carpet and we replaced it with a hunter green carpet. I can vaguely remember gold vein mirror tiles I think above the cabinets in the kitchen....

House # 2

I don't remember the house my Mom moved into after she and dad divorced. The only "memory" I have of it is a picture she has of me and my **step-dad next to a huge snowman he built. I was about one or two at the time. It was on the corner of Cheri Whitlock and Mt. Olive/Hwy 43 in Siloam Springs.

**When you read 'Dad' from this point on - I will be talking about my step-dad, Steve, since while I was growing up and even today, my Dad (Johnny) only had one house. Mom and Dad (Steve) had several.

For more on my feeling about the whole step-parent thing, read here.

House # 3

The first house I do remember was on Stonewall Rd, in Prairie Grove and it is a great example of how our young minds remember things vs how things really are. The way I remembered this house was that it sat on top of a hill. A pretty steep hill and at the bottom of that hill along the road were two apple trees. When I drive by that house today I can barely call that "steep hill" a knoll and I don't think the apple trees are there anymore. That house had a basement that leaked. I remember having a sand box to the east of the house. This is the house we lived in when my little brother, Tyler, was born. This is the house we lived in when Dad worked the late shift at Franklin Electric and when he would come home, he and I would sit on the couch and eat while he watched TV. I was about 3 or 4. He and I were really close during this time. Mom was going to school and working during the day, I wasn't old enough for school yet, so it would be just the two of us all day and baby Tyler once he was born. (Jared and Laney had a similar relationship because I worked graveyard and slept during the day, while they two of them hung out - and baby Ashley mainly slept.)

Remember those apple trees? Its funny the memories you have. One year I was allowed to make my own lunch. I gathered apple blossoms from those trees, wild onions from the yard, and pickles from the fridge and made myself a salad! Dad actually let me eat that! I remember a time when I spotted a baby mouse behind the couch so I went to the kitchen and grabbed the cheese and threw pieces of cheese behind the couch to feed it. Mom and Dad were not happy when they discovered what I had done. I remember Dad with the help of my Grandpas, Uncles and other family members, built on the back room of that house as well as a covered patio to park under. While they were adding on I was running around barefoot and stepped on a nail. I remember when I was sat into the bathtub the water turned red. They had a wood stove in the new family room and one time mom threw the bathroom trash in there. Dad had thrown a shaving cream can in the trash and she didn't know it. It blew up and she was burned pretty badly. I remember being afraid of sleeping alone for a while and I would crawl into their room at night and sleep on the floor beside the bed on Mom's side. She would drape her hand down on the side of the bed and I would reach up and hold it until I fell asleep. I remember one summer mom kicking us outside to play (that was very common thing when I was growing up). She actually locked us out and I wouldn't' leave the porch. The next thing I knew there was a HUGE tarantula on the porch with me. I remember Dad trying to argue on our behalf to let us in. I don't remember the outcome. I only remember that huge spider! I remember a large Mimosa tree that was to the west of the patio. It had several branches that forked right there at the ground and I would often climb in there and just hang out. During that time Mom and Dad both had motorcycles and Mom's sister Michelle, lived a little ways down a nearby dirt road on a chicken farm. We would sometimes ride those motorcycles to her house to visit. Doesn't that seem strange? My mom driving a motorcycle? Hers was a little gray Honda. Dad's was red and seemed like more of a dirt bike. I can't remember what make it was. We also had a few stray dogs that would show up. I vividly remember one was a dark red colored golden retriever. Because of her color we called her 'Red'. She would follow me to the mailbox to catch the bus each morning and would be there waiting when I got home. I seem to vaguely remember a little puppy maybe named 'Socks' or 'Boots' that we had for a while too. When it was time to leave this house and move to our next home, we had to send Red to stay with my Grandma Reba. I don't remember exactly what happened to her, but I think she ran away.



House # 4
The next house we lived in was a rent house we had to stay in while our new home in Siloam Springs was being built. When I was in second grade we moved to a little house on W. Graham Street, in Prairie Grove. I remember being allowed to walk to school. I remember we were friends with the little family at the end of the street and I would sometimes 'baby-sit' the little boy named Justin, though at that age, I'm not sure I was baby-sitting as much as maybe just keeping him occupied. I don't have too many memories of the interior of this house. I remember it had carpet in the kitchen and it seems like the carpet was burnt or stained in a few places and left a life long impression on me that you would never want to have carpet in your kitchen. We still lived in this house by the time I started 3rd grade but not long after. I vaguely remember Dad driving me from Prairie Grove to Siloam the first few weeks of school.

House # 5

This house was a very exciting home. Mom and Dad had designed it. It was a mansion compared to all our other homes. It was in a little living addition called Country Acres. We lived on Hickory Lane. It was brand new and had an upstairs. Stairs are a big thing when you are young and have never had them before! The exterior was brown cedar and had brick half way up.  When you opened the front door you were facing the staircase that took you upstairs. Tyler's room was on the left, our bathroom was straight ahead, and my room was on the right. We had those gabled windows in our bedrooms and my closet also had a door that led to the attic. From the front door, when you entered and looked right you were in the living room. There was a fireplace to the right and entries on the left and right of the back wall. The left took you into the dining area, the right took you into the kitchen and the garage door was there too. The kitchen and dining area were an open floor plan. The dining area had a wall sized book shelf and to the left of the dining room was the master bed/bath. We had a deck and large backyard accessible from sliding glass doors in the dining area. We also had a garden. I loved that house. While we lived there we gained ownership of a beautiful collie that we named Lassie. She belonged to a neighbor that lived a few houses away. I'm not sure why but she would never stay home and made her residence at our place. Dad went and talked to the owner and she became our dog. Mom started her career as a first grade teacher in Gentry, when we lived there. We lived in that house for about three years.

House # 6

When I was in about the 6th grade, Mom and Dad sold their home and we again moved into a rental. This one was a trailer house that sat right where 412 is now. When they put in the new highway the rental was moved and the highway went in. It sat very close to 'humpback' bridge. We didn't live there for very long. I remember seeing "ghosts" when we lived there. There were a few instances when my cousin Christy and my best friend Cheryl were there and they witnessed this strange phenomenon  - I can't remember which story belongs to which person but once a silhouette ran through the yard and right though a barbed-wire fence. Another instance we were up late and Christy or Cheryl (who ever was there that night) their eyes glowed bright red. To this day I find it strange that there's a haunted house that takes place right there at Riverside each Halloween. When we lived there I also remember Tyler getting in very deep trouble when he and a friend walked down to the river without asking and none of us knew where they were.

House # 7

This house was not very far from the one in Country Acres. It was in a living addition called Meadow Wood on Crestwood Drive . I loved this house too. It had a lot of neat things like an intercom system, a built in vacuum cleaner, and a toaster that was built into the wall too. My bedroom was attached to the bathroom, so even though I had to share it with Tyler, and guests, it felt like it was my very own. My bedroom had mauve carpet and I had a canopy bed. This house was very long, no upstairs. When you entered the front door you were in the living room. We rarely used this room. I took piano lessons when we lived here so there was a piano sitting in this room and the NW wall had a mural on it. To the left was the hall way that would take you to the bedrooms. At the very end was the master bedroom and bathroom area. You would step down into the master bedroom. And it was huge. If you went straight at the front door you would enter the dining room and to the right was the kitchen and then you would step down into the den. Dad built a really nice deck onto the back of the house that wrapped around a rather large tree and it had built in benches. This house was dark blue on the exterior and gray brick. It had an attached patio to the right and a shed type room to the right of it. We lived in this house until I was in about the 9th grade.



House # 8

This was another rental that we stayed in while Mom and Dad renovated their next house. It was a little house on Rodric Drive, I think the house number was 207. I walked to school from this house too. This house didn't have much of a yard, front or back. I don't remember very much about the interior. We didn't live here too long.

House # 9
This is the last house I lived before I "grew up" and got married. I remember mom and dad doing a lot of painting, and fixing up before we moved into the house on Summit Drive. It had a fenced in back yard and a large lot to the North. When you entered the house it had a foyer. The hallway was on the left. The washing machine and dryer were down the hallway. I don't remember the laundry area of the other houses. Probably because this is the house we lived in when I learned how to do laundry. Across from the laundry closet was the bathroom and down the hall to the left was the master bedroom and bath. The hallway then made a right angle turn and my room was on the left and it made a dead end at Tyler's room. Tyler's room had a western theme. Mine room was two tone, hunter green on the bottom and a tan color on top and a  fleur de lis type pattern wall paper border between the two. Mom took my childhood toy box and painted it the hunter green color and added the border around it. I had a desk to do my makeup and a pretty good size closet. If you went straight from the foyer  you were in the living room and could look straight to the sliding glass door that went to the back yard. To the right  was the kitchen. It was quite small and led to the garage. I got my first care while living in this house. It was a white late 80's model mustang with red interior.

I married in 1998 and by the end of 1999 Mom and Dad had built the house they live in now on River Valley Road.

I don't know how or where they found the energy to do all they did when I was growing up. Besides moving that many times, my brother, Tyler, was heavily involved in baseball. Dad coached him in little league and later, on a travel team. Mom and Dad both worked full-time jobs and did most, if not all of the repairs and fixing up of all the houses we lived in, rentals included. The few times I have moved as an adult convinces me each time that I never want to do it again.

We have had quite a few hiccups with our new place but I do hope we can endure and spend the rest of our lives here.

Until next time,
Becky

Paper Trails

Just like with blogging, I've been pretty hit-and-miss with my participation in the Instagram genealogy photo challenges lately. But as long as I don't quit all together I think will forgive myself.

Today's prompt from Genealogy Girl Talks is headstone. And I wanted to do a short little post, mainly full of pictures to show you how I'm fortunate enough with this line to have a paper trail taking me back at least 8 generations.

Below is the headstone of my 4th great grandmother Margaret Catherine Newell. I love how her name is spelled on her headstone. She is buried in Rochester Cemetery, Haskell County, Texas.

 

Below is her death certificate which provides us with the names of her parents. In my experience it has been quite rare to have a death certificate from this time period where the name of both parents is known. The informant was her daughter, Emma Josephine Linville, the wife of Isaac Johnson Harcrow. I write about my Linville line here.


This death certificate tells us that Margaret was born in Chambers County, AL in 1831 to William P Newell and Priscilla Jones.

In Greene County, Georgia, there is a marriage record for a William Newell and Priscilla Jones. And you can find a census record for William P Newell living in Capt Britain C Tyars District, Troup, Georgia in 1830, and living in Chambers County by 1840.

William Newell was a pretty well known man, though many of the records that could prove this most likely burned in the Randolph County Courthouse fire of 1897. It is said he was the Sheriff of Randolph County in the 1840's and I have found a newspaper article stating he was elected to the House of Representatives in 1853.

Tuskegee Republican, 14 Jul 1853, Thu, Page 2

Taking us back one more generation are a few snippets of paper found from the Estate of one Zachariah Jones who died 1827 in Greene County, Georgia.

First the division of his land amongst his children:

This itemized record of items purchased from the Estate Sale of Zachariah Jones, purchased by Wm P Newell (notice the hand cuffs).




And this receipt:



I don't know who Priscilla's mother was at this point, though the Estate records mention a Margaret - not specifically as Zachariah's wife, but she isn't mentioned as a child either - and Priscilla did name her daughter Margaret Catherine. Catherine after William's mother. I am pretty happy to have documentation taking me back this far.

There's quite a bit more information I could add here and there, but one of the reasons I don't blog as often is because I find that I try to add too much detail and I get overwhelmed. I like the idea of trying to do short little posts here and there.

Until next time,
Becky

Trapped

In August of 2016, I became a chicken farmer. (That's what my husband likes to call me anyway.) It all started with a dog house that I converted to a chicken coop, while living in town, and three young hens. They were different breeds, a Black and Copper Moran, a Cream Legbar and a Swedish Flower hen. Before the month was over I purchased two pullets (I thought). They ended up as a cockerel and pullet Barred Rock. Then, in September, I snatched up three Hy-line Brown hens from a commercial grower who was in a bind and needed to sell all of his hens.

During this time it was becoming more and more apparent that we really wanted to sell our home and try to live on our acreage we had bought about 4 years earlier.

By November we had a buyer and a closing date of November 29th. That gave us very little time to get things organized on our land in order to have my new chickens our four dogs and me! We had an RV and decided my son and I would live there with the animals while my husband and daughters would stay with his parents, until we could get our home set up.

Besides all that moving entails, we also needed to build a real deal chicken coop and run. This became quite the chore because my husband and I only have the most basic building skills. Nevertheless,  we built a nice coop, complete with nesting boxes, roosts, vents, main entrance and a little side door for the chickens to enter and exit the run.

 *I will have to add pictures in a better format later, as I am still roughing it in the RV with only cellular data for internet and the tablet I'm writing on doesn't have enough memory for pictures I guess. I added them using my phone but I can't position them neatly.*

One day not long after we finished our coop, our youngest, Ashley,  came out to admire our handy work. Jared had a migraine and was resting, so she and I went to inspect our new coop. We opened the door, stepped inside, and BAM, the wind blew the door shut and latched it! We were trapped. Neither of us had our phones, and it was pretty cool outside. What were we going to do? I then looked at her and then the chicken door and decided she was small enough to fit. So she crouched down on all fours and because of the slope nearly had to do a headstand... walking on her hands she slowly but surely was able to get out.




We had a good laugh and couldn't wait to share our silly little adventure with family. When we told my mother-in-law,  she laughed real big and said she had a story very similar about her mom, Jessie Bates. Keep in mind she would have been in her 80's:

This happened at the last house mom (Jessie) and dad (Troy or Lum, as he was called) lived in together on MM highway in the early 90's.
Behind their house was a divided building with two doors. In one side was garden tools and other stuff. On the other side they kept dog food, chicken feed, empty feed sacks a couple of barrels that they would put this food in and other stuff.

It was windy, cold weather and Mom, thinking she would only be out long enough to feed the chickens went out without a jacket or coat, to get feed. She had to enter the building to get the feed and when she did the wind blew the door shut, the handle came down and locked her in!

Dad was a late sleeper and when he got up, got dressed, he went out to feed his dogs. When he opened the door to the shed there was mom in a barrel with feed sacks stuffed around her to help her stay warm! He said, "well mom what are you doing?!". He then fixed the latch so that if it happened again she could get out.

Like Jared's Paw Paw, he fixed the latch on my coop so that it couldn't blow shut and latch ever again. And just in case, I try to remember my phone when I go out there.

I hope you enjoy these humorous stories. I will try to add pictures of Nanny and Paw Paw as soon as I get the chance. If you're reading this and have pictures please share. Especially if they include chickens or out buildings from this property.





Until next time,
Becky

Grandma's House

We are finally moved out of our first house. We bought it in May/June of 2006 and officially close today, November 29, 2016. We lived there for 10 years. That house will hold a lot of special memories and thankfully due to social media and smart phones, most of them are well documented.

Today I posted a picture of my paternal Great Grandmother's dining room table full of guests. I asked if anyone knew more about the occasion and her house in general,  like who built it and when. My Great Aunt Bette commented with wonderful detail. Her parents were guests at that table.

"Bo or I took the photo on Thanksgiving 1966. The housebuilding was a family affair. It was built approx.1962-63.Willie Belle and Rufus tore down and salvaged lumber from Larence Phillip's old house. Charles (Nall) hauled framing lumber from Seymour,Tx. to get it started. Rufus and Bo handmixed cement for the footing Bo laid the blocks and did most of the work in building it (on weekends) as he worked fulltime at Safeway. Charles built the cabinets in a shop in Seymour and hauled them up. Bo installed them. I'm sure George helped hang sheetrock and did other jobs as he could Bo remembers when it was finished that the only bill was $600 at Jones Lumber."

In the photo: My great grandmother, Willie Belle, is standing, my great grandpa, Rufus, is seated at the head of the table, my great uncle Larry is seated with his back to camera, to his right is my great uncle George, and across the table are Mr. and Mrs. Brock (the in-laws of my great uncle Bo and parents of Bette.)

 Charles was my grandfather,  the eldest son of Rufus and Willie Belle. For more about this family's transition from Texas to Arkansas  (where this house was built) check out my earlier post The Big Move. 

Gratitude

Today's photo challenge prompt is 'Gratitude'. It seems like a lot of my blog posts are revolving around the recent family collection I was given by my mother. Among the items she gave me was this little note card.



She and I read it and when she saw the name YOUNG, she said "Oh, so that's Grandma Bondell's mom" - After coming home and looking at clues from my genealogy photo album and my online tree I deduced she was referring to Grandma Bondell's step-mom's mom. I wrote more about Grandma Bondell's life here. The only thing I know about 'Grandma Young' is that her name was "Nettie Young" I seriously doubt YOUNG was her maiden name. I'm not certain as to what year she was born or even where she was born. Her daughter, 'Grandma Thompson' was born about 1898 in OK.

I'm really hoping someone reads this and can help me fill in this branch of my tree. I've searched and searched for her grandson Kemo Young and can't find any records with that name.

I have a picture of 'Grandma Young' that I have shared before, but I'll share it again. She is pictured far left, then there's her daughter, Grandma Thompson, her step-daughter, Grandma Bondell, her son Leroy and his daughter, my aunt, Diane. Circa 1957-8





In writing this blog it stirred up a few emotions that I want to address.

This is going to get a little personal. If that makes you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. But this is my blog and I just feel like this is as good a time as any to set the record straight about some things that I have kept to myself for far too long. The only person who really knows and believes how I feel is my husband. He all too often witnesses the emotional baggage and turmoil and frustration that still lingers today.

As a genealogist - I feel like what I'm about to say is important. Genealogy isn't just bare facts. Or it shouldn't be. There are stories, emotions, and real people behind all the dates and pictures.

I really dislike the term "step" when referring to a non-biological parent. I only do so here because this is a genealogy blog and I don't want to confuse anyone about lineage. I came from a blended family. My parents divorced before I was a year old and my mother remarried before I was 2. I have a step-dad and step-grandparents, and step- aunts and uncles and cousins and I even had step-great grandparents. They were my family from the time I was one year old. I never felt like I was less a part of their family and I never felt like they were less a part of me. The fact that I felt these things were hard for my bio-dad's family to handle. Blended families and divorces are ugly and hard. Strong deep seeded emotions are felt across the board. Hearts break. Tears fall. Jaws clench. And as hard as you try the kids are left in the middle feeling stuck. Sometimes in moments where you lack self-control or forget to think about the consequences, you intentionally place those kids in the middle. You want them to feel the things you feel and see people the way you see them, but that's wrong and even worse than wrong, it's unhealthy and can causes a kind of pain you would never knowingly cause your child to feel. People do the best they can and just like so many aspects of parenting - the mistakes you make along the way aren't really known until the damage is done. But for the record, My step-dad was my dad and I cringe a little inside when I put that word in front. But that doesn't take away at all from the love I have for my bio-dad. I also cringe when I put that word in front. They're my dads. Period. It wasn't a choice I made yet time and time again, even now,  I'm expected to justify my love and affection or apologize for it... To both sides. So - I kind of stay away. I love everyone. I really do. I cherish a lot of great memories. But, I'm tired of trying to fit into everyone's mold of who they think I should be and who they think deserves my love or appreciation more. I'm tired of offending people with Facebook posts because I've expressed feelings about one side and the other side saw it and thinks that I left them or theirs out. I'm tired of wondering did I accidentally say the wrong thing, or mention the wrong person to the wrong side of the family? So I rarely attend family functions. I've adopted my in-laws as family. I feel like they've adopted me. I'm allowed to feel things without having to justify, or explain. or apologize. I can breathe and not overthink every thing I might say or feel. But honestly - even with great in-laws, I feel alone but its so much emptier than the word alone conveys.

In recent years I've been called ungrateful and evil because I've offended people with the feelings I have toward the opposite side of my family. I'm neither. But in an effort to somehow right a perceived wrong I want to tell you about my dad, Steve.

I have many fond memories of my step-dad. When I was young he worked second shift at Franklin Electric. I remember he would come home late at night. I don't know if I was already up or if I would sneak out of bed when he came home, but I can remember sitting on the couch in the living room just the two of us eating a midnight snack. I remember a time when he would bring me gifts from McDonald's when they were having a promotion with the Shirt Tales. I think he got me every single one of them. We played a lot of card games. He taught me how to play crazy 8's, and 5 card draw. He was always a talker. He tried his best to have meaningful conversations with me and to encourage me. He would do his best to console me when fights would break out between me and my mom. He was always willing to help me any time I needed it. He bought me my first car and it was a lemon. I will fully 100% own the term ungrateful when it comes to how I reacted to that car. But with all the unconditional love of a parent, he quickly got rid of that car and bought me a late 80's model Mustang. I deserved to wait another year without a car after the fit I threw, but you see, he loved me like a dad and wanted me to have a car when I was 16. When my husband and I bought this house, he worked nearly every single day helping to re-do the inside. He painted the ceiling, and bedrooms, he put in linoleum in the bathrooms and he later added a railing around my porch. When our water heater busted he quickly came running with his soldering iron and fixed the leak. He was always my go-to man. You see, he was the child of divorced parents too. His situation wasn't exactly like mine, though. He didn't see his bio-dad on a regular basis and I think he felt he did a better job step-parenting than what he received. He tried. He tried hard with me. When I was in high school he eventually quit work at Franklin and went to work at Swepco. He took classes and tests and worked his way up to Supervisor. I remember a lot of discussions during that time period were how he wanted a better life for me. He always remarked about my intelligence and he could see me throwing a good future away with the choices I was determined to make. Hind sight is 20-20. He was right.

When I was very young I remember getting in trouble from my Mammy when I would talk about Steve and I would slip and refer to him as Dad. That hurt me a lot. It made me feel like I was somehow an ungrateful child because I would dare to love someone who had loved me. That caused me to carry a burden of guilt that I still feel today. No matter what choice I make - someone is going to be hurt because of me and my feelings. Its an impossible situation.

I'm now grown and married and have my own blended family. My husband is the step-dad to two of my children. In their case a judge told them they weren't allowed to call my husband dad. I was even threatened with having my custody removed if I didn't verbally remind them that he wasn't. That is such a terrible thing to do. The experience of having divorced parents is hard enough for a child. Let them receive, express, and give as much love as they can. Don't censor it people! Because the shoe is now on the other foot, I experience the struggles and emotions now that my mom went through on some level. My children idolize their dad's side of the family. But I'm fortunate enough to understand where that comes from. It still hurts. A lot. But I understand it. Because I was the child of divorced parents I can do a better job in some areas, but its hard, in-spite of knowing exactly what my children are feeling.

So in closing, I just want to say Thank You to all the STEP  parents out there. Thank you for loving us. Thank you for hanging in there when you don't feel appreciated. Thank you for trying your best to understand.

Until Next Time,
Becky