Remembering Bob Schmidt

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Robert (Bob) Carl Schmidt, my first cousin, once removed, passed away on May 12, 2011. 

Bob lived in Central Point, Oregon.  He was born in 1935 to Carroll Joseph Schmidt and Ethel (Tracy) Schmidt in Green Bay and was a lifelong Packers fan. He attended St. John's Grade School and Central Catholic High School in Green Bay. He was a Sgt. in the Army Armored Division Tank Corp and served as a tank commander in Gelnhausen, Germany from 1958 to 1960.  He retired from the ODOT Sign Crew in 1997. His favorite pastime was golf.

Bob is survived by his wife, Gaille; sister, Judy (Jerry) Thibaudeau, Green Bay; niece, Melissa (Greg) Thibaudeau; nephew, Keith Thibaudeau; and grandnieces, Brianna, Madison and Autumn.

The last time I saw Bob, he visited my home (about 10 years ago) when he was in town to see his sister.  I believe he also wanted to visit Lambeau Field and the Packers Hall of Fame.  He and his lovely wife Gaille came to our house for a barbeque.  We thoroughly enjoyed their company. 

Bob shared stories and pictures of our common ancestor, my great grandfather Terrence Tracy.  Terrence lived with Bob's family when Terrence was elderly, after the death of great-grandmother Mary Tracy.  Bob and Gaille also told us about their home in the mountains and Gaille's experiences working at 20th Century Fox and on TV and movie sets like Payton Place and MASH.

I lost contact with Bob since then.  I wish I hadn't. 

Rest in peace Bob. 

Sometimes My Backyard Reminds Me of Ireland

Saturday, May 21, 2011

I wrote this story years ago, one day when I was looking out my kitchen window into my back yard and reflecting on a wonderful trip my husband and I had taken to Ireland.

Today my backyard reminds me of Ireland.  The trees are fully leafed; their branches--soaked--are a stark black contrast against the emerald leaves.  The lawn is another hue and the wild, natural strip yet un-mowed, another still.  The blue spruce is distinguished from the white pine and the rest of the evergreens.  The hibiscus bushes are beginning to bloom in their pots on the deck.  They add a spark of color to a variety of 40 shades of green. 

Maybe my yard doesn't really look much like Ireland after all.  A robin lands on the deck rail.  Then a purple finch takes a dip in the birdbath on the corner post.  If I sit quietly for a minute, I'm sure to see the oriole that stops every now and again at the shepherd's hook outside my window, tantalized by the grape jelly and orange halves set out especially to attract him.  However, I have never seen a grebe or a razorbill here.

Actually, now that I've sat a moment and contemplated it, why should my backyard remind me of Ireland?  There are no remnants of castles and fortresses, no stone hedges separate my lot from my neighbors' and there are no sheer cliffs.

Although my property has a home that I like to consider my castle, there is no equivalent to Blarney here--no ancient shell with its narrow stairway leading you to the sky, where, to have a chance to gain the gift of eloquence, you may lie on your back and arch to kiss the Blarney Stone. 

Rhododendrons, which we have never been able to winter over in Wisconsin, would not be considered a nuisance plant in my yard.  They most certainly would not grow to 25 feet or higher. 

There is no Ring of Kerry (to be traveled counter clockwise) or a Dingle Peninsula (to be traversed clockwise) with their breath-taking vistas here.  Although my backyard is park-like, there is certainly no Ladies View--the most spectacular outlook in all the land.  There is no Reeks--no mountain ridge--to be seen here. 

My flower pots--even at the height of the growing season--won't measure up to the baskets on the store fronts of the little shops of Killarney.

There are no peat bogs on my property...a little black mud maybe.  But, I won't be harvesting any sod to keep the hearth and home warm this winter.

And, although my daughter's pets do like to graze in our backyard on occasion, they don't resemble the sheep mowing the pastures and hillsides of Ireland.  Bailey, her German Shep is no sheep dog. 

Except for a brief rain like the one that fell today, there is no Irish mist to keep everything lush and growing all summer long.  The lovely green grass I see today will turn into straw by late summer. 

No, except for the many greens of this late spring day, maybe my backyard really doesn't remind me of Ireland.

The Romantic Legend of the Blarney Stone

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Blarney Castle

The Romantic Legend of the Blarney Stone

A handsome young chieftain of the McCarthy Clan, Cormac O

met and fell in love with the Faerie Queen.  One day they were

walking along the river when an arrow from a rival's bow


pierced the heart of the young chieftain. He fell to the ground dying

and the Faerie Queen placed his head on a large stone nearby as a

pillow and she remained with him until his last moments.

Then she laid her golden harp aside

and knelt by the moss-clad stone.

The fair young chief, his day's pride,

was gone and she was done.

And she pressed her lips to the silent flood,

the crimson stain of his true heart's blood. 

Then sank in the deep of the Lee's fair shore,

and her golden harp ne'er played more.

Then McCarthy More, a warrior bold, 

a chief of wealth and power

placed the stone in his great strong-hold

The Blarney Castle Tower.



And there it stands to this very day,

tho' the castle itself is old and gray;

and lovers are sure of endless bliss

who press their lips o'er the faerie kiss.

Kissing the Blarney Stone

A Taste of Ireland

I'm waxing nostalgic for Ireland.  This blog post begins a short series of stories I wrote about my travels and experiences there and my reflections after returning home. 

It was li'll Tommy O'Reilly who showed us a wee bit of Ireland--just a taste of Ireland as he was prone to remind us--on our jaunt to the isle of 40 different shades of green.

On Day 1 we stepped out of the plane into the 1950's decorated arrivals hall of the Dublin airport with its ancient vinyl-covered furniture and a 1980's vintage computer long ago parked in the hallway. After grabbing our luggage, we set out in search of the CIE tours desk, where, after waiting a while and checking out the airport book store (where the newest tale of Harry Potter, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, sat with its England-version cover), we first met little Tommy O'Reilly and secured a ride to our downtown hotel.

After a sleepless flight overnight to Ireland, we found ourselves catching a snooze in the elegant lobby following a snack of tea and club sandwiches. Then after settling into our room at the Burlington Hotel on Upper Leeson Street, we headed out on a tour of Dublin.

Dublin City or "Duvlin" as it used to be called means "Black Pool." But don't call it that today. Accompanied by a local guide named Maura (Mary), Tommy drove our tour bus through the impossibly narrow streets to show us all of the local sites of interest. We toured the Dublin Castle where the State Apartments are located and where many historic governmental events have taken place. The mirror room of the castle reminded me vaguely of the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles; though beautiful, it was not nearly as opulent.

Looking out the back windows and past the castle garden (which serves as a heli-pad), one would swear to be in London as the flats and buildings all around look just like those across the Irish Sea. This shouldn't come as a surprise as Ireland was highly influenced and dominated by Great Britain for over 800 years until she demanded independence in the late 1920s. Much of the culture, certainly the English language which is prominently spoken, and many aspects of the architecture of Ireland derive from Great Britain.

Next we headed to the Guinness Storehouse at St. James Gate for a tour and a taste of the famous black stout. A thimble full was as much as I could handle but the nearly 360 degree panoramic view of Dublin from the 6th floor bar was the main attraction of interest to me at Guiness.

Later that evening we met for a drink in the hotel bar and then headed out for a show at a local cabaret. The headliner was Ireland's popular Tony Kelly and a comedian (who did a fantastic medley of Bing Crosby tunes).  They were complimented by dancers and a woman named Lou with a lovely voice.

Tony had definitely let his headliner status go to his head. He was the biggest over actor I have ever seen! He would fall backwards after every song as though it was all he could do to stay on his feet after giving such a dramatic, intense performance. This was followed by a wipe of his brow as if to tell us that he had really worked himself up on that one. Dan and I agreed that Tony should be a lounge act on a cruise ship. Our meal during the show featured a delicious salmon dish, the first of two great salmon meals we enjoyed in Ireland. Following the show, we were treated to Irish coffee, a mixture of coffee, booze, and cream served hot in a wine glass. Not my cup of tea, but certainly enjoyed by our dinner companions, lovely Londoner Maureen and her 80+-year-old Irish-born mother who found her Irish coffee quite enjoyable.

Back at the hotel, sleep was our top priority and that we did. Once I put my head down, I didn't move until the alarm sounded to get up and ready for breakfast. Following our breakfast of a buffet of typical English/Irish breakfast items like porridge, black and white pudding (blood pudding), and baked tomatoes and sausages, we headed out. But first, we couldn't resist snapping pictures of each other in the front yard of the hotel with its lush foliage including palm trees. Who would have expected palm trees in Ireland?

As we left the hotel, Tommy kept up his near non-stop tale of Ireland's history, jokes, singing, and other stories. But, Tommy knows his customers. He knows when to talk and when to shut his gob.

Tommy pointed out the colorful front doors of Dublin. He offered two tales (from which we were free to take our pick) as to why painting one's front door one of a myriad of bright hues is so popular in Dublin. The first story involved a drunken husband who claimed he had wandered into the home and bed of his neighbor's wife because he could not tell apart the near identical row houses. Painting of the doors would help to guarantee that the same "mistake" could not be repeated. The second tale involved a collective nose thumbing by the Irish after the death of England's Queen Victoria when all of Ireland received a directive to paint their doors black in a sign of mourning. Me thinks the later story is probably closer to the truth of the matter. But, whichever story you accept, you will not find more colorful doors anywhere on earth than those that greet you in Dublin City.

As we traveled through the beautiful countryside, Tommy explained one way that Ireland is changing drastically. The hot economy, called the "Celtic Tiger" is causing a rapid increase in housing values in cities. This is forcing many of the young and newlyweds to build outside of town and commute into the city and having a dramatic impact on Ireland in many ways. Outside of Dublin and elsewhere, we noticed many new housing projects. I suspect the small island of Ireland will not look the same ten years from now if the current trend continues.

On our way to Cashel and to Blarney, we passed through rich horse country. Tommy explained that the limestone in the soil helps put a large amount of calcium into the grasses from which the horses feed. This in turn gives the horses strong bones.

The highlight of our morning was a visit to a sheep farm where we took tea and scones and then watched Rose, the sheep dog, round up her charges in the pasture. She was a real work dog.

At lunch time we arrived at Blarney Castle.

Wisconsin Society DAR State Conference 2011

Sunday, May 15, 2011

A couple of pictures from the Wisconsin DAR Conference in Madison last weekend.  It made for a nice little get-away.  The dinner program was excellent and included the Sons of the American Revolution color guard. 

 

President General Merry Ann T. Wright, State Regent Pam Miller and me