"Happy Birthday America!"

The 4th of July

By Cheryl Harwell Bailey 

Freedom

Flag

Faith

Founding Fathers

Family

Fireworks

Food

Fireflies

Fifty

Forge

Flares

Firelight

"Blessed Boy's"

My mother and father's DNA comes from 
the British Isles, with some "Cherokee" on both sides.
 As one can imagine I love my heritage. 
The two cultures are opposites. 
Each equally beautiful to me. 
I look like a blond, blue eyed, "Cherokee." 

Raised in Bakersfield, California, I was exposed to my 
Native American roots everyday.
I never imagined in my wildest dreams, 
I would be exposed to my British heritage. 
 Traveling through Wales, England, and Scotland,
 on two different occasions.
 We stayed in Oxford, Windsor, London, & Harwell, 
spending several days in each place.
 Allow me to share one of my memories."

I spent a day at "Eton." 
During the time "Prince William" attended. 
It is an old all boy's school, "college." 
 The attire was not "California Cowboy!"
 Those boys were wearing black tuxedo's! 
With tails!

 

It is a stunning ancient campus, and I, 
the person who looked out of place, 
being a woman dressed in modern day attire.

 There was a "little store" within the stone structures. 
I just had to explore.
 It was a cross between "a little corner store"
 from the 1940's and a "7 eleven."
 Everything, 
from sewing notions,
 shoe polish, and candy bars. 
Full of boys dressed in formal wear buying snacks. 
When I made an inquiry as to some dishcloths,
 they all started talking to me. 
"Oh! Your an American! We like your accent.
 I would like to go to CALIFORNIA." And so it went.
 They were exactly like the boy's in my Sunday School class. Exactly like my grandsons. Regular boys with no pretense. This was even more enjoyable to me than going sightseeing. It was a bit of "all right!"

Like yesterday afternoon. 
The spring rain purified the air. 
The sky was perfect blue, against the lush green oak, 
maple, and poplar trees. 
The weather never better,
 the birds & I singing hymns, 
as we watched my big hens peck the clover.

 I heard familiar little voices, looked down by the creek, 
and there they were. 
Caeden, Ben, and, Westin, (the 8 week old yellow lab.)
 I just sat there and watched the "service."
 I worshiped my Creator for giving me
 eye's to see such true beauty.
 I praised Him for my hearing ears, 
as I listened to boyish whispers, puppy barks, 
and giggles shattering the quiet. 
When they saw me, they came running,
 talking to me as they came.
 "Where do labs come from anyway, Grandmother?"
More than a bit of "all right!"

"Happy Mother's Day!"

I think my Mama must have been born "singing." I've known her all my life, and she is the "singingest" person I have ever met.

She sings when she's happy, and she sings when she's sad. She even writes her own songs. Hundreds of them! The older she gets, the more she sings. She plays a "Kazoo" in a senior citizens band, sings in a quartet, and sings solo on the bus.

Recently Mama had to go through three major surgeries. 

As they were wheeling her down the hallway, to the operating room, we, along with the entire hospital, could hear her singing, "Love lifted Me!" The "Doctor" said it was the first time anyone had ever held a musical concert for him while on the operating table. Instead of having her count backwards, while going under the anesthesia, she and the doctor sang "How Great Thou Art" together.

Her singing has touched many people, most of all her children. "God surely gave us a special song, when He gave us our dear "Mom!"

This true story was written by my mother, "Carolyn Donaldson Harwell" in 1982. My "Grandmother," Vivian Juanita Bowen Donaldson fully recovered, and lived to be 88 years young.

"Like Grandfather, Like Son"

This blog is going to get me in all kinds of trouble!
 With my teenage grand boy, but I can't pass this up!

Husband

“Hey Cheri, is that Randy’s ring your wearing?” “Yes it is!”

Give me my Romeo; and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.  "Juliet"

This is the gospel truth. The first time I saw his face, he was getting on the school bus. I got dizzy, my heart started pounding, and I had goose bumps. I thought, “what’s wrong with me”? This is so weird, and then I shrugged it off. Little did I know I would marry him 2 years later. That was 40 years, 2 months, and 4 days ago, we have what cannot be expressed with mere words. The term soul-mate, is an understatement.

We were engaged, and I loved him. His parents invited me to the family cabin close to Yosemite. The beauty of that place is heaven on earth! I slept in the bedroom closest to the kitchen. I could smell Grandpa's bacon cooking when Randy knocked on the door. He came over to the bed and gave me a morning kiss. He was dressed in a brown plaid flannel shirt, 501 levis, hunting boots. He was unshaven and his thick blond hair was tossed all over his head. He was the  most handsome perfect man, I had ever laid my eyes on. I had always seen him in his French cuffed shirts, slacks, well groomed hair and face. He looked great, but I really nearly died when I saw this new side of him. All scruffy and manly. He’s still tall and slim and even better with time. He is even more beautiful on the inside, if that is possible, than on the outside. God could not have given me a more perfect gift than my man Randy.

Ruth 1:16 Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.

Treasures

Of all my treasures, this letter, written by my Great Great Grandfather “Coleman Harwell,” is one of my favorites. The letter is from Coleman to his wife and child, during the California Gold Rush 1852. He wrote in beautiful cursive, with such eloquence. Proud he was one my "Papa's!

Sacramento CityMarch 18^th 1852

My Dear Mary,

With great pleasure, I write you tonight though I would take more delight in writing, if I could only get a letter from you to answer. I thank God that I am well and hearty. Hoping that you are enjoying the like blessing of God. This is a fine country for health, making money, but it is a terrible place for misleadings, and dissipation. But I can say of a truth, that I have less to tempt me, to do evil, than I ever had, or else I am more on my guard. I have attached myself to the Methodist church the same day I got here. I never enjoyed a more pleasant Sabbath day in all my life. It appeared to me that the windows of heaven were open to my soul. I hope dear, you are serving God and praying for me. I want you to remember me night, and morning, and at noon, in your devotion to our God. I hope you dedicated our dear little Candace unto the Lord, by baptism and prayer, and may He bless you in raising the dear little creature, and take care of you both. When I talked of coming to California, you said you were fearful that I would suffer for something to eat. Now let me assure you that you need not give yourself any more uneasiness about that, for I have everything heart could wish, and can eat more than a common dog. We have the best provision in California of any other state in the union. I only wish that you had as good living in Georgia. When I left home, you know my weight was 145 lbs. It was the same when I left Panama, or about that. But now I weigh, one hundred and sixty four or five, and I don’t recollect which, though I was weighed this morning. You would hardly know me if you were to see me. My cloths that I brought from home are all too small for me. You know my old red coat was too large for me, but now I cannot button it around me, and my pants will not hold me much longer, if I keep growing, for they are bursting themselves now, in trying to keep me in. I must hold, or you will think me in a state of exaggeration. I reckon you want to know whether I am doing anything or not. Well I am not making much money certain, for I am only getting the sum of 50 dollars per month, and boarded, but I should not have worked at that, if I had not been afraid to go into the mines, after being sick so long. There is a better chance in the mines now, than has been for a long time, for it has been raining several days, which affords water for washing. I expect to start to the mines in the morning. McLemore has gone on to the mines more than a week ago. I beat them all to California in just 8 days. I find that I can get along as well by myself as in company with any acquaintance. There is no need of company to get on here, not like there used to be. The country is settling up very much. People cannot make money here like they did in 1849 and 50. Good hands, if they will be saving and careful can make 50 to 100 dollars per month. I certainly cannot advice my friends to come to this country, to make a fortune, unless they want to settle in this country for life. It is getting late and I must come to a conclusion. I want you to write me every two weeks certain, now do not fail. You cannot imagine how much I want to hear from you. I am perfectly impatient to hear from home.

I want you to tell me all about everything, about the place particularly, and Ann, and my old sow, and pigs, and everybody you know. I must acknowledge that I never knew what it was to want you before, but that is out of the question. So fare thee well.

                                                 Your Loving Companion,          
                                                                            Coleman

Post Script

Oh my dear, my love, and my all. I want to write more, if I knew what to write. It has been so long since I talked with you that I want to say many things, while the tears of love wet this sheet, my heart throbs and beats for you. If I ever were to sit here till daylight and write with all the eloquence of Demosthenes, or Shakespeare, I could not express my feeling, and my love to you. Shall I ever meet your kind embrace again, and my dear little babe? Shall I ever have the opportunity of stealing another sweet kiss from that smiling little face and quivering lips that I left sleeping on the bed on the morning of the 6^th of Jan. 1852? Oh God preserve them, and may I meet them again this side of eternity.

Coleman did return from the “California Gold Rush” to his loving family in Georgia. He and Mary had more children.

To My Dearest Daughters,

No matter where you go, or what you do, you will never find another human being, who loves you like me. You know well, how you love your children? That is how much I love you. You know well, how much you worry about them? That's how much I worry over you. It does not matter how the years go on, a mother's heart never waver's. It's a sacred thing! A God thing!

 I want you to know that I'm amazed by both of you. The fab women you have turned out to be, in every sense of the word. I only wish all moms were blest with kids like you two. I still pinch myself, saying how could I be so blest to have you. It must be a God thing too! I surely don't deserve you, or the love of God, but I have both. Thank You! With All Heart,
Mom