SEVERE FLOODING IN MY STATE

A week and a half ago, my state West Virginia, had so many counties that were flooded: The torrential rain was relentless and it fell and fell. Imagine over fourteen straight hours of rain—it’s unimaginalbe to grasp that much. Along with the rain were severe thunderstorms. I watched the rain pour as I looked out my kitchen window off and on; my front yard looked like a small lake. Guess I should say that where I live is on top of a giant mountain and that in itself is a good thing as far as flooding if it were to happen. But there are numerous places here in my city that have high mountains where people live and too many times, nearby creeks have overflowed and flooded too many areas.

By late afternoon, the weather channel had warnings for flooding as well as for posible tornadoes. Thankfully no tornadoes spawned here but by time for the local evening news, everyone could see imminent devastation just waiting. People were frantic about whether or not their loved ones were affected and yet in too many cases, they could not be reached for power was out in so many areas that reaching anyone by a landline phone or a cell phone was impossible.

At 11:00 that night, everyone [that had power] could see the flooding on TV in too many areas here. Some areas were not known about for cameramen or women could not get to those places. And the wait began—it went on all night long.

I couldn’t sleep for fear of what was happening for although I live high up, far down below is the main river that flows through my area. Its tributary was no doubt at flood stage and yet it would take until daylight to see that the tributary river had overflowed its banks while the main river reached an all-time high.

When dawn came that morning, what I witnessed on TV was mindblowing—the devastation in cities nearby me and those far away were in too many cases, under water. In one city that is about two hundred miles from me, the main street looked like a river for water was gushing down the street so fast it looked surreal.  There was no way I could get to any of those areas for too many were flooded. By mid-afternoon, so many counties here were completely devastated.

By evening, I watched the local news channel and there was more bad news: Many lives had been lost as they had been swept away in torrential water and/or drowned. And like others here, I learned that this flooding hadn’t happened, such as it did, in one hundred years. And then came photos of flooded areas that were unreal to witness on TV—houses gone, businesses torn apart and flooded, one city completely submerged under water and worst of all, was seeing people so distraught that they were utterly dumbstruck. Watching it, I was as well. No one could imagine such horror here and yet it happened.

Today is the 4^th of July and more relentless rain is on the way. No one can deal with it. No one wants it. Everyone fears another flood.  As of yesterday, the death count was twenty three—twenty three too many. One that died was a four year old boy who got swept away from his grandfather; another was an eight year old boy who got caught up in the rushing waters. At this point in time, a family is still hoping that their fourteen year old daughter is alive but three of her family members were flood victims. Hope is what so many are holding onto.

We have been blessed with an outpouring of help in the form of volunteers from non-flooded areas as well as out of state volunteers—all helping the flood victims out in any way, shape or form. So many businesses chimed in with TV stations and started a drive for non-perishable foods, bottled water and cleaning supplies. As of now, the donations are still coming in and are greatly needed.

Thoughout this time frame, like others, I have been on edge worrying about relatives that got stranded or friends who hadn’t reported to anyone. Luckily,  I found out that they were safe or at a shelter but so many here are still not sure if their loved ones or friends are all right.

I wish I could show you the devastation but I can’t; however, you can google what has happened here in West Virginia and see the horror of it all. Perhaps you live in a state or country that has a lot of floods and if you should,  you have my prayers for living with that is beyond the realm of thinking. But it does happen and when it does, there’s no stopping it. Water is the source of life; it’s inside of us, we need it to survive and yet water can be a dangerous thing—dangerous when it rains relentlessy causing creeks, streams or rivers to overflow and touch anything in its way. It is the strongest force in the world when it becomes such as that.

And yes, it is something that in too many cases, people have had to deal with, live with or be affected by it. Any force of nature can be bad—even here we had a horrendous tornado in 1991 [which had never happened prior,] another one not quite as bad three years later and then a horrid storm that took out trees, houses and did incredible damage. But this flooding here has been so massive that in some places, it will take years to repair, rebuild or to completely redo streets, highways, electrical systems and most of all, infrastructures.

I felt compelled to write this for you to read; you may already know all of this information and if so, feel free to dismiss it. Healing will happen but it sure won’t happen overnight for those that lost every single thing that they ever had—and worse feeling the pain of losing loved ones will take a long time to recover if it happens.

One thing that has been and still is that West Virginians are strong: They have always helped their neighbors out in dire circumstances and they still do. I know that all too well for I am one: I was raised that way to help others. From one generation to another, this looking out for each other has been passed down and it’s a strong trait here. But I want to say a huge “Thank you” to anyone and everyone that has come here to help for you are so appreciated for all that you have been doing. May you be blessed ten-fold.

Sherry Hill

Copyright © 2016

Sherry Hill

All Rights Reserved

CREEKS

Creeks. I really love them--always have and
always will. You can sit by a creek and all of
your problems seem to vanish even if only briefly.
So many childhood remembrances from being in
a creek or just looking at one. 

My favorite one is
really hard to get to and it's in Blue Creek here in WV: Getting
to it means a long downward climb as you have to
hold onto every single tree limb and pray you don't
slide down. But once you're down and see the sand
and the creek, it's breathtaking. I've been in that creek
so many times: Have swum in it, when the water was
high, have fallen in it and have taken a lot of friends
there. I know the big rocks well. My late mom spent a lot of summers with her dad's
mother at Blue Creek and knew this creek well.

She passed her love of the creek to me and to my sons. I haven't
been there in for what seems like forever and yet I need
to go because it's a place where I can empty my soul--if
you know what I mean because a creek can do that for you.

The sound of a creek is so relaxing, the sights of the many old rocks that water has flowed over for hundreds of years leaves me breathless

and and sticking my feet into a creek on a hot summer day is wonderful.

If you live near a creek or know of one nearby, I can only hope that you share my feelings about it. It cost nothing to see or be in a creek but the pleasure of it is ten-fold.

Sherry Hill

Copyright © 2016

Sherry Hill

All Rights Reserved

LIGHTNING BUGS: LITTLE MIRACLES”

4 mins · 

About the age of three or four, I remember the first time ever seeing lightning bugs and I just stood out in the yard in wonderment. Had no idea what they were at all but the way they shot this way and that with their lights left me in awe. I wasn’t alone for my mother was with me and I remember not wanting to come inside. But ah, I had to—no choice there.

Two years later, I became a constant lightning bug watcher and catcher. Caught them in my hands like most kids did and had no idea what to do with them and so I had to let them go. Wanted to keep them: Didn’t all kids?

By the age of seven I had learned how to catch them at night and put them in a glass jar [yes back then there weren’t any plastic jars] and have my dad poke holes in the metal lid—that way the lightning bugs could breathe. There weren’t many kids around me in this neighborhood for we had moved—there was a girl next door who was about twelve and as mean as snake and a boy who lived sort of beside me the other way.

I chose the boy of course.
He and I spent many an evening catching what seemed like hundreds of them and we had jars and jars full of lightning bugs. The best thing was his idea to let them all go at once after he counted to five: It was like tons of sparklers going off to see them shoot out of our jars! It was one of those awesome moments that a kid never forgets—ever.

The next year another move and this time it was in a big neighborhood with tons of kids and tons of lightning bugs to catch. Nirvana. For six years I had such happiness in that place with the joy of friends and lightning bugs.

Teenage years set in and I could have cared less about them and this feeling stayed with me into my adult years---until I became the mother of two sons.

They were taught to catch them the same way that I was only they got to use plastic which was a lot safer because those broken jars of the past that left me with cuts and scrapes. And not only did my sons experience the joy of those shooting star-like bugs but so did I, once again.

When my sons grew up and moved away, I tried to quit looking at lightning bugs for it made me sad—sad that not only my childhood had been long gone but also my sons.

Just when you think things will stay status quo sometimes miracles do happen. I became a grandmother and my first grandchild was a boy. He was about two or so and I took him out in my yard to see the lightning bugs: He went haywire running this way and then that way trying to catch them. I laughed when he said, “More over there!” Well, there weren’t but it looked like it. We caught some and put them in a plastic bug keeper—but that didn’t last long for I had to let them go.

The older he got, the more lightning bugs we chased and caught! By this time, he had a little sister and she was in on the chase and they wore me out! But it was such fun! Add another grandson and the three of us became lightning bug catchers and chasers—experts of sort. We no doubt caught hundreds upon hundreds and always let them go –but not till we had a lot to let go at once. [I remembered that boy who had counted to five long ago.]

The other day I saw my first lightning bug of the season and my heart lept up in wonderment just like it did when I was little. Funny that such a little bug with incredible light can evoke such a childhood memory—but it did. And for me, lightning bugs will always be little miracles. Go outside some evening and let yourself go and see if you find any: I’ll bet that little child in you will come out just as it did with me.

Wonderment still exists: All we have to do is to look at those lightning bugs.

Sherry Hill
Published in The Charleston Gazette

“AND YOU WONDER WHY I HAVE QUALMS ABOUT FOODS”

When I was little and ready to eat my food, I listened to what had been said before about it. And trust me I heard a lot. And I remembered it even if it were true or not. My grandmother told me that tapioca was made with “fish eyes:” Think I ever wanted to eat that as a kid? Uh no. Had problems with that stuff until adult age.

Heard that Jello was made from scraping the insides of horse’s ears. Now really, as a young kid, my mind went zooming into who knows where and I had never seen the inside of a horse’s ears but the thought of it was a major sickening thought.

My mom would never buy cling peaches for she told me “They slide down your throat like a goldfish.” Yes, I knew what goldfish were because I must have coerced my grandparents or my mom to buy me one at the ten cent store about once a month. [And I don’t know whatever happened to them all, but that’s another story.] Did I ever try to swallow a goldfish? Never. What an icky thought that turned me off big time to cling peaches; like my mom, I ate “freestone” peaches.

I was told that if I swallowed watermelon seeds that a watermelon would grow in my stomach. “Just what every kid wants to happen” said no one ever. And so I well remember going out to the curb to have to eat my slice of watermelon and spit the seeds out into the street—that was because I lived in the city and times were safe then.

“Better eat that; it will stick to your ribs” I heard too many times and it was really scary to think what would happen if that food did stick to my ribs because what would happen?

Throughout my childhood, I heard so many horror stories about how foods were made or what they had in them, that it’s no wonder I have qualms about certain foods to this very day. But it’s even worse now for the contents of packaged or canned foods have to list the contents. Try looking at those sometime if you dare.

My list could go on and on and I’m sure you were told a bunch of horror things about food as well. One thing’s for sure: You never forget what you heard despite the fact that they might be true or not. Rest my case.

Sherry Hill

Copyright © 2016

Sherry Hill

All Rights Reserved

GENEALOGY IS AMAZING

Luckily, I have had past cousins of my late mom do a lot of genealogy research and was just blown away to learn how many lines I have. Amazing to find out that I had two dates in high school with a guy that would turn out to be my cousin--I hope you are smiling at that one.

On my mom's mom and dad's line I found out that I am a mixture of Dutch, Irish, Scottish,

English, French Hugenot, Native American [on my maternal grandmother's line Tecumseh, the Shawnee Indian chief, had a sister that married into her family making this woman my fifth great grandmother,] and Spanish. Quite a combination.

And then there is my late dad's line which is mainly German, Polish, French and English.

That makes me a mixture of ten different  backgrounds.

And I am so glad I found out about my ancestors for it is what makes me, me.

My sons have the genealogy of mine as do my grandchildren: Looking at it gives a lot of insight into who we are and our traits

I could throw out a lot of surnames and no doubt many of us would be somehow related--but I won't just yet. Will keep you guessing.

If you don't have your genealogy lines, ask your relatives to tell you what they know for doing that is really helpful. And you can go online and find out a lot--just be careful for a lot of genealogical information is not quite right or has been made up to make it sound better. The latter happened with one ancestor or mine--a lot was made up about him that was not true.

If you do have your genealogy, consider yourself lucky; I certainly do.

The more you dig and find out, the smaller the world seems because genealogy is really amazing.

Sherry Hill

 Copyright © 2016

Sherry Hill

All Rights Reserved

‘A FLASH OF RED ON THE HILL FOR A LONG TIME”

You are probably thinking from the title that perhaps an ambulance or a police car was on this hill for quite a spell but I’d have to say that would be wrong. A sunset? No, not really. What I’m talking about that had a flash of red was an Irish Setter that roamed freely and yet he did have a home—right up the street from me. When he ran, I saw a flash of red that was more highlighted on a sunny day and this dog was a sight to see: He looked ablaze.

In my life up to that point, I’d never seen an Irish Setter much less been near one. Oh I’d seen a lot of different dog breeds prior and would wind up having my first dog when my sons were little on this hill for we got a purebred collie but not at the start. Curiosity got the best of me and I followed this blazing red dog home one day and found out that his name was Sham—short for Shamrock. He belonged to a family up the street that had two daughters and a son.

It was a time when there were no leash laws. Right next door to the where Sham lived was a huge collie named Fritz; he too was a visitor in my house.  But Sham was the one with the personality that said “I will come in your house and I will make myself comfortable.” And that he did. I’d find him lying on my couch with a non-care attitude looking as if he belonged there. My young sons adored him and although I’m not quite sure what my then-husband thought, Sham seemed to be my best buddy.

I had to nix that idea really fast after finding out that my house was not the only house that Sham inhabited while roaming during the day: He visited practically everyone on the street and they let him. But oh when he was here it was as if I had a house guest—albeit one with blazing red fur and four legs but he had manners. Good dog manners. I would find out that one day those good manners would change and become something that to this day, a lot of us remaining here still remember with a huge laugh.

There were many young couples on this street and upwards and many young children. Young children can entice and also leave front doors open for they have the habit of going in and out a gazillion times. Just ask any parent even today: It happens.

It was one young family up the street from me that was composed of young parents and three little children. I knew them all and was at their house a lot as were many other young families. On a hot summer day, the young mother had fixed a huge ham and set it on the kitchen counter. The aroma hung in the air and leaked outside beckoning any ham lover to get nearer and nearer. Now no one knew this for a while until everyone saw Sham running down the street with the entire ham tucked in his mouth!

The aroma got to him and there was no way he could help himself we all reasoned and especially that young mother who was expecting to have a lovely ham dinner. Didn’t happen.

Where Sham took that ham will remain a mystery to this day for no one saw him after he had it in his mouth but one thing was certain: He had eaten it all. Whether it made him sick or not is not known but he was roaming around the very next day as if nothing had happened with a look on his face “I didn’t do a thing. Suspect me? No way.”

A couple of months later we got our first dog and he was a collie named Rusty. Rusty got bigger than thought and yet when Sham came to visit, there was no tension between the two of them—Rusty would go his way in the house and Sham always sought my living room couch. I would have loved to have known what Rusty really thought but since I was and am not a “dog whisperer,” I will never know. They got along.

For what seemed like years but in essence must have been at least seven or so years, Sham lit up the neighborhood with his blazing coat of fur as he ran up and down the street.  Everyone knew him and his name: How could they not? He was magnificent with a streak of ornery in him.

It saddened his owners far more than me when the word “divorce” was mentioned. I will never forget the dad asking me if I’d take Sham and keep him. Having two young sons and a dog quelled that idea in me but in retrospect, I regret it this day that I didn’t take that dog. It would have worked out. I just couldn’t see it at that point.

Sham did find a home—in the country somewhere I was told—and for that I know the owners had to be grateful and yet longed for him. I can only hope that they got to visit him and that he lived out the rest of his life happy.

As for me, I will never forget that flash of red on the hill ever:  Sham was one of those dogs that crept into your very soul and stayed there long after he left here. And he wasn’t even mine.  I missed him on my living room couch, I missed his roaming and anytime anyone up here fixed a ham, well you know who they thought about—the one and only Sham. There has never been an Irish Setter here since him and I often wonder about that for I’ve seen all breeds of dogs around but never that specific breed.

Sham was just plain special and unforgettable. To this very day, I think of him and a smile washes over my face: How lucky I was to have known my neighbor’s dog in such a way and how lucky they were to have owned and shared him. He had the personality and beauty and knew it. What a dog!

Sherry Hill

Published in the Charleston [WV] Sunday Gazette-Mail

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!

Wherever you live, I'm wishing you a Happy

St. Patrick's Day! It's a day of the wearing of the green, eating green foods, green beer [I opt out on that] and parades.

Check the news to see what state puts green in their main river--it always happens on this date.

Believe it or not, my former second graders really believed in leprechauns. I always took a poll and made a chart and generally there was only one kid that didn't believe and he or she would change his or her mind. Smile.

Wishing you a HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY! And check out the folklore on this day.

Sherry Hill

Copyright © 2016

Sherry Hill

All Rights Reserved