My head is full of random thoughts. You know, the kind of thoughts that zoom around in your head making you get dizzy with anticipation or apprehension or anxiety or excitement or reality of a situation, event or person.

I may be in the middle of folding my laundry and a million questions will just pop into my head and drive me nuts. Ever have that happen?

Well, these are just some of the random thoughts I had today about Sam starting Kindergarten while we were at the marina riding bikes this morning….

Will he be able to unzip and unbutton his jeans and then button them and zip them himself when going potty?

Will he find a new best buddy as fun as the best buddies he had at preschool?

The first day of school, when his hand leaves mine and he goes inside, will he be nervous? will he know where he is going? will I break down on the sidewalk? will I run after him and not want to let go?

Who is going to open his milk for him? his yogurt? who is going to help him navigate the lunch line?

Will he even eat his lunch? will he throw it away?

Will all the kids laugh at him because his classroom folder is a Corvette folder and not a Toy Story, Transformers or Spider Man folder? Is it strange that he only likes things that look and are “real” versus cartoons or obviously unrealistic toys?

Will he stare out the window that he sits in front of and yell out all the different types of cars and models as they drive by? is he the only one who knows car model names and numbers?

Will he remember that he can count to 100, knows all his ABC’s and can write his name? Or will he only remember how to draw a truck?

Will he remember that red and blue make purple? red and green make brown? yellow and red make orange?

Will he fold his hands when sits down to lunch and wait for someone to say grace? If he says it himself with everyone laugh?

Will he pull down his pants or shorts and show everyone his brand new Jeff Gordon #24 underwear? (please God, no)

Will he pick his nose?

Will he miss me?

Random thoughts. I think sometimes I think too much.

I have noticed that for me it is the random questions that I ask myself that either make me feel better because I am processing things in my head or get me into trouble because I am thinking about something way too much.

How about you? How do you process random thoughts about important things happening in your life?

While you randomly think about that, here’s another “Autumn in New England” freebie…hope you like it:

And you can pick up the full kit, “Autumn in New England” at either my Digitals or DigiScrapWarehouse boutiques for just $2.99, sale price until October 1st!

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Last night we went to visit Sam’s new school. He starts Kindergarten next week.

A new journey…

Today my niece moved into her dorm at college.

A new journey…

This week we realized my other dog, Ernie, the “Last Dog Standing” is dying. Soon we will be a house and family without dogs.

A new journey…

So today guess what I’m thinking about?

New Journeys.

Sometimes the road we set out on, the journey we seek, is planned and safe and comfortable and exciting and full of expectation and dreams. Other journeys are kind of just part of the plan whether we want to take them or not. Kind of like “first days” of Kindergarten and going off to college. It’s in the cards whether we want these journeys to happen or not. And then some journeys are planned and yet exciting and full of mixed emotions.

Kindergarten is kind of like that for me. I’ve known Sam is going to Kindergarten since the day he was born.

I just didn’t think it would get here so fast.

My niece going off to college is like that for me, too.

I’ve known my niece was going off to college since she started high school and started sharing her interests in various schools.

I just didn’t think it would get here so fast.

So tonight I sit here, blogging away my feelings of anxiety, apprehension, excitement and sentimentality about both of these important events in my life and the lives of those I love.

Is my sister ready for my niece to start college?

Are my parents excited or is it bittersweet that they have one grandchild going off to college and at the same time another starting Kindergarten?

I think she is. I think they are. But like me, I am sure they are wondering tonight where the time went. Why did childhood race by so fast? Can we go back?

I don’t think so.

We move forward on these new journeys whether we want to or not. And we carry baggage. We carry old luggage full of memories and new suitcases for all the new experiences, memories and lessons learned along the way to carry us through the next time we come across a similar journey.

New journeys are what I’m thinking about tonight.

New journeys happen every day. Some journeys we just stop and recognize more than others.

Next week my adventures as a mom of a Kindergartener begin. Tonight I am still a mommy of a preschooler.

Some journeys are hard to let go….

And here is a little something from a new kit I am unveiling tomorrow in my Digitals and DigiScrapWarehouse boutiques…

“Autumn in New England”

Come back for another freebie tomorrow and all throughout the weekend!

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See you tomorrow?

Cyndi

Did you ever hear someone say something that you couldn’t believe they said?

Did you ever hear someone say something that you couldn’t believe that they said about you?

I had that experience today.

I am still sitting here with whiplash from doing double take after double take at the email I received. And rehashing all the circumstances that led to the email.

Yes, I got that kind of email today.

And it got me thinking…

Sometimes when we type something in an email, text or message on Twitter or Facebook it resounds even more than if we heard it face to face in person. Why? Because we can keep staring at the hurtful words written in the message. Keep looking at them. Keep staring at them. And each look it is like another stab in the back. Or slap in the face. Or kick in the rear.

So the hurt is heard louder. It resonates in a different way than overhearing something in a conversation or hearing it in a discussion.

Until you hit delete.

But even then the hurt still resounds. Kind of like deleting anything on your computer. You delete it but it really is still there. If it isn’t in your trash it is imprinted somewhere on your computer.

So this post is for the person that I heard today in an email I wish I had never opened. I deleted it. I put it in the trash. But it left an imprint that is not going away any time soon.

“Yes, I heard that.”

And it hurt.

And then I realized what he was staring at—-the fog.

If you read my last post you have a pretty good idea of what the past two weeks has been like for me. I’ve been in my own foggy state of existence. At times a frozen fog since the bags of frozen veggies kind of freeze my brain it seems and leaves me frozen in the moment.

So today I am thinking about fog.

The part of me that seems to be continually negative wants to say I hate fog. But actually, I don’t.

Fog has a very mysterious quality to it. It hangs in the air, letting you see a little of this and a little of that, but never letting you see the whole picture. If you think about it, life is like that. The fog of our lives sometimes hides things we don’t want to see or perhaps what we want to see, have been waiting to see. And like the fog of weather, we have to sit back and wait for the sun to come out and burn off the fog so we can see the whole picture.

Sometimes the picture revealed is one we don’t like. And we invite the fog to come back and hide it.

Sometimes the fog burns off to reveal something miraculous, beautiful and rewarding.

As I write this, I am waiting for the fog to burn off. I’m not sure if today will be a sunny day. I’m not sure if my headache will get better. I’m not sure if what is hiding behind the fog that I see will be engaging or frightening.

Did you ever have a day like that? A day when it seems like you are waiting for the fog of your life to burn off and reveal something?

Tell me about it. I want to know.

And here are some of my favorite foggy moments…nothing beats Cape Cod fog:

I have a headache. I’ve had one for 11 days now. Here is what I’ve learned about me and headaches these past two weeks

Note: NOT medical advice, just cranky woman rant!

1. If you post a happy sunny picture of somewhere I wish I could be instead of on my couch with frozen peas on my head? I won’t appreciate it.

2. My blood pressure has been on the Thunderbolt and the Jack Rabbit roller coasters. One minute I’m down at the bottom of the old, wooden hill and the next I’m at the top waving my arms in the air. But unlike those at Kennywood, I am waving for someone to bring me pain relief.

3. A resident on call telling me to find a dark room, a cool wash cloth and quiet for rest has no clue. Migraine with 2 boys under 5? Yeah, that will work.

4. Carbs and Caffeine are key ingredients to migraine success. Forget either and you are destined for a day on the couch with frozen peas as a hat and pillow.

5. Pain relief is not a narcotoic. It is migraine medicine. BIG difference.

6. Not every migraine is the same and many atypical symptoms (i.e. those unusual things your body does that no one else’s body does when having a migraine) are bound to occur after a week of migraine headache trauma.

7. Sleep. Gotta have it. No sleep? More headache.

8. Drink orange juice. Someone told me to do this. I don’t know if it works. I’ve just been doing it. Anything to relieve the pain and get the frozen veggies off my body.

9. Sitting by the pool on one of the hottest and sunniest days of the summer will not improve your chances of beating the headache.

10. Don’t even think about reading. Same with TV. Flashing images only make you wish you were in a dark hole with no human contact.

11. Expired migraine medicine DOES work. But only to be used as a last resort (i.e. resident tells you to find a dark room).

12. Pain medicine lowers blood pressure. Avoid it. At all cost. Resist the urge to swig anything with a “c” before the prescription number.

And this is what you don’t do if someone you know and love has a migraine:

1. Play with the noisiest, loudest toys in the house. Leave those alone. Please.

2. Tell them to find a dark room and hand them a wash cloth when they have two boys climbing the walls. Ain’t gonna work. Ain’t gonna work.

3. Tell them to shake it off. We’re already feeling like someone is jackhammering our head. Enough with the shaking. Enough.

4. Ask “Did you drink a cup of coffee?” Of course I drank a cup of coffee! Or two or three or four…

5. Tell them to “Just relax.” If I could relax? I wouldn’t be walking around for two weeks with frozen veggies on my head.

6. Ask “Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?” Just. Don’t. Ask.

7. Buy the super big bags of frozen veggies at Sam’s Club. Please. Do. That.

8. Tell them to take an aspirin and a nap. If it was that easy we’d be not having this blog post.

9. Expect them to make life changing decisions. The most we can handle is what’s for dinner and how long until my next tylenol.

10. Try and reason with a woman who has had a twelve day migraine? Save yourself the time and energy and sanity. Don’t bother.

And now I am off to find yet another bag of frozen veggies to lay my poor head on. I think I’m in the mood for some Trader Joe’s Corn…

And don’t forget–my entire Digitals store is marked down to $2 per product today only! Includes all my NEW products:

GO SHOP HERE

LAZARUS LOWREY and COL. ALEXANDER LOWREY

I last wrote about my paternal 3rd great grandparents Honorable George Plumer, 1762 – 1843 and his wife, Margaret Lowrey 1765 – 1818. The information that follows is about the parents and grandparents of Margaret Lowrey – Col. Alexander Lowrey 1/1723 – 1/31/1805 and his wife, Mary Waters 1732 – 1767 my 4th great grandparents and immigrant Lazarus Lowrey 1688 – 1755 and his wife, Elizabeth “Etta” Campbell 1700 – 1729 my 5th great grandparents.

LAZARUS LOWREY:

Immigrant, Lazarus Lowrey, my 5th great grandfather, was born in Northern Ireland, probably in Derry or Donegal about 1688. He married Elizabeth “Etta” Campbell, my 5th great grandmother about 1713 in Northern Ireland. Nine children were born to this marriage. Note: Although there are no records to support that Etta’s maiden name was Campbell, it is believed this name is correct. Both Elizabeth Campbell and her new born son, David, died during child birth. No record has been found to verify the place or exact date of Elizabeth Campbell’s death. She may have died before Lazarus and his 8-9 surviving children emigrated to America in 1729, while the family was at sea, or early after arriving in the Colonies. Lazarus Lowrey married Ann Millie Boggs Edwards in 1730. Five children were born to this marriage.

Little is known about Lazarus Lowrey’s family prior to his arrival in America. The port of arrival was probably Philadelphia, PA or Newcastle, Delaware. Scotch-Irish immigrants were considered citizens of Great Britain. No record of their departure was kept because they were going to another part of the British Empire i.e. the British Colonies. Lazarus was probably raised in the Presbyterian Church as this was his faith in later years and the predominant faith of the Scotch-Irish people. The family had to be prosperous because he paid for the passage of his family of about 10 members. When Lazarus Lowrey and the Scotch-Irish people emigrated to Pennsylvania they were welcomed by the Pennsylvania Quakers because of their industrious traits. The Scotch-Irish received attractive enticements to settle the wild frontier because of their disposition to fight due to their experiences in Scotland and Northern Ireland. These traits benefitted the settlers as they built their community and served as the front line on the rugged Pennsylvania frontier.

The Lowrey family settled in Donegal Township, Lancaster County, PA in 1729, where Lazarus established a trading post in 1729. He was issued state trading licenses by the Pennsylvania court in 1730 to sell liquor and by the Governor as an Indian trader. He purchased a farm of 333 acres shortly after his arrival in Donegal Township. Lazarus was a prosperous trader for many years with his sons, Alexander, John and Daniel and continued in the Indian trade for twenty-five years. The settlers frequently encountered Indian raids resulting in loss of lives and destruction of property. Lazarus Lowrey’s son, John, was killed in 1750 when an Indian lit a powder keg next to him. For several years the French military expanded their territory from Canada to the south. The hostile Northern Indians incited riots in their attempt to expand the French territory taking captives – men, women and children – to Canada to be ransomed to the British. The Indian raids eventually led to the French and Indian War (1754 – 1763). Lazarus Lowrey had an amicable relationship with the Southern Indians of Pennsylvania and influenced many of them to become allies of the British colonists in resisting the invasion of the French and Northern Indians. The hostilities of the Northern Indians commanded by the French Military resulted in the death of several people in August, 1763 at the massacre of Bushy Run – also known as “Bloody Run” – in Bedford County, PA including Lazarus’ son, Daniel Lowrey.

Lazarus and his Wife Anne moved to Arch St. in Philadelphia in 1750. He died in Philadelphia in 1755 and is buried in Christ Church cemetery. His will is recorded on page 264 Book K. of the Philadelphia County Wills, signed 6 Feb 1775 and proved 15 Feb 1775. I wondered why Lazarus Lowrey, a member of the Donegal Presbyterian Church all of his adult life, was buried in Christ Church cemetery, an Anglican cemetery in Philadelphia. In my research I read that his 2nd wife, Ann Millie Boggs Edwards was raised and educated in Philadelphia, PA. I surmise that they moved to Philadelphia where she had roots and family.

COL. ALEXANDER LOWREY:

Col. Alexander Lowrey, my 4th great grandfather, married Mary Waters, my 4th great grandmother, on September 1, 1752. Nine children were born to this marriage. Alexander’s second marriage in 1774 was to Ann West 1722 – 11/21/1791. When he married her, he had been a widower for six months, and she a widow for ten months. He promised her he would not say anything about their marriage, but when they arrived in the vicinity of Maytown, Lancaster County, PA several hundred persons turned out and lined the public road for several miles to receive them. Evidently Col. Alexander sent word that he would be arriving with his new bride. Five children were born to this marriage. Col. Lowrey was married a third time to Sarah Cochrane, a widow, who lived near York Springs, in 1793. No children were born to this marriage and they lived apart.

The Following paragraph was adapted from: Rootsweb, Ancestry.com: Immigrant to Virginia prior to1720, Thomas Wieland and related lines – attributed to Tom Lincoln in 1/99:

Col. Alexander Lowrey learned the trading business under his father’s tutelage. He was tall with an athletic build and great physical prowess. He spoke several Indian languages fluently and was well liked by the Indians. He hunted and trapped animals with them and could outrun any man. He frequently went among hostile tribes, but was only once in a tight spot, from which he saved himself by courage and fleetness of foot. Around 1748 Col. Alexander Lowrey formed a hand-shake partnership with Joseph Simons in the fur trading business which lasted forty years. The traders traveled along the Allegheny and Mississippi rivers as far west as Kaskakaskia and Fort Chartres on the Mississippi and as far north as the Great Lakes, with posts at Fort Pitt and Carlisle. They met the Indians yearly who brought fur pelts from their hunting grounds further west and exchanged them for goods. Col. Alexander Lowrey was a guide to Colonel Charles R. Forbes’ expedition in 1758 and Colonel Henry Bouquet’s expedition in 1763, and was at the bloody battle of Bushy Run.
Col. Alexander Lowrey and the French and Indian War Years

Taken from the National magazine: a monthly journal of American history, Volume 12, By William W. Williams, James Harrison Kennedy – 1890 – Architecture

“In 1763 Col. Alexander Lowrey and more than twenty Indian traders were returning home from a very successful trading expedition when their camp was attacked during the night by the Shawnee, Delaware and Huron Indians at “Bushy Run” near Bedford County, Pennsylvania. The Indians stole their goods and killed many of the traders.

The great losses sustained by these traders became the subject of treaties and much litigation, and but for the tenacity with which they clung to the grant from the Indians, they might have obtained one from Virginia for the northern part of the present State of Ohio. At the Indian treaty at Fort Stanwix, New York, on Nov. 3, 1768, the six nations of Indians agreed to make restitution to the traders who lost their goods in 1763 at Bushy Run. They gave them a deed or grant for a certain tract of land or country belonging to said Indian nations.
This grant of the Indians was confirmed by the king of England. It will be seen from the description of the boundary lines of this grant that it embraced much of the land in the grant to the ” Ohio Company,” and as the former had a deed from the six nations of Indians who claimed to own the land by reason of conquest, in addition to their title from the king of England, it was thought their title was perfect, and much better than the Ohio Company’s. The revolution came on before the “Indiana Company” could effect a settlement on their land, and in the meantime the State of Virginia claimed ownership and jurisdiction to all the land as far north as Pittsburg. Recourse was had to the “House of Burgesses,” in Virginia, for relief, and at one period of the discussion Virginia offered an equally large tract of land in the northwest territory, near the lakes, if the company would abandon all claim to the grant in Virginia. The highest legal authorities in England, and some of the brightest minds in Virginia, among whom was Patrick Henry, declared that the title to these Indian traders was perfect. But Virginia believed in the law of force, and prevented all settlements by the “Indiana Company.” The insincerity and injustice of Virginia was shown in their treatment of George Croghan, who, at the treaty at Fort Stanwix in 1768, obtained privately a deed for a large tract of land along the Ohio, below Pittsburg, within the jurisdiction of the province of Pennsylvania. Virginia, with great promptness, ratified the grant. Croghan thereafter acknowledged himself a subject of Virginia, and sided with that colony against the province of Pennsylvania. The liberality with which Virginia granted patents for land within the province of Pennsylvania to all who applied for them, and Lord Dunmore’s fair promises, led a number of worthy persons in the vicinity of Pittsburg to embrace the Loyal cause. Some returned and supported the American cause. One of the brightest of them went over to the British through the influence of Lord Dunmore. I refer to Dr. Jolin Connelly, the half-brother of Gen. James Ewing, both of whom were born upon the farm of James Patterson, the Indian trader, in Conestoga Manor, and who was also the half brother of Mrs. James Lowrey.”

Adapted from: Bushy Run Battlefield website at http://www.bushyrunbattlefield.com:

The British victory at Bushy Run significantly changed history and the role of the British in maintaining control of North America. This was the pivotal battle between the British and Native Americans during the conflict known as Pontiac’s War (1763-64). The capture of Fort Pitt (Pittsburgh) was prevented and the gateway for western expansion was kept open. More than Western Pennsylvania was affected by this attack by the Northern Indians. The Indians had captured nine forts and one was closed. Eight present day states were affected by the Battle of Bushy Run.

Col. Alexander Lowrey and the Revolutionary War Years

Col. Lowrey was a member of the Donegal Presbyterian Church, founded in 1721. The church building dates to about 1732 and is an historical landmark in Donegal Township, Lancaster County, PA. The following information is taken from the Donegal Presbyterian Church history:

“Scotch Presbyterians are a hardy lot, and known to be faithful churchgoers. Some, like Colonel Alexander Lowrey, a Scotch-Irish senator whose father, Lazarus, was resurrected from the death grip of oppressive British rule back in Ulster, Ireland, have hung around Donegal for around 274 years. Alexander, who died in 1805, at the age of 79, is laid to rest in the graveyard that lies adjacent to the church. But on a sweltering hot summer morning in 1777, Lowrey, who was then 51 years old, was in church. Though his body was positioned tense and upright in the neck-high wooden pew, his mind, no doubt, was elsewhere as he listened to the sermon of the Reverend Colin McFarquhar. Lowrey, the commander of the 3rd battalion of The Donegal Township Riflemen of Lancaster County had a lot weighing on his mind. The winds of war were blowing, and he would have to be ready at a moment’s notice to defend his home against the encroaching British. That moment came sooner than expected. Donegal Presbyterian was the first place the messenger (sent by George Washington) would come, bringing the bad tidings that the dreaded Red Coats were marching north. Reverend McFarquhar immediately halted his sermon, and the entire congregation, including Colonel Lowrey, amassed outside and gathered around a sturdy oak just beyond the front door of the church. All present joined hands to pray and pledge to fight against the British to the end . . . as God was their witness.

The tree where the soldiers and civilians alike had gathered to pray would become known as The Witness Tree. Sadly, after having survived 250 years, it was cut down on June 3, 1991. The remains, now affectionately called The Witness Stump, are still visible—rooted deep in the soil where the people of Donegal Church once stood, tightly clasping hands together and bowing their heads in fervent prayer to intercede for their new country.”

Col. Alexander Lowrey immediately marched to command the 3rd battalion of the Pennsylvania Militia at Brandywine and Germantown. He was in the saddle day and night, urging the patriotic men of the neighboring townships to strike for their independence. He lent his credit, and gave large sums of money to sustain the holy cause.

The following poem was written by Mrs. Samuel Evans (Frances “Fanny” Lowrey), daughter of Alexander Lowrey and Ann West. Taken from page 31: Historical Papers and Addresses of the Lancaster County Historical Society, Volume X1, 1906-1907, Illustrated, Lancaster, PA 1907

“In Donegal, in Erin’s Isle, stern Scotia’s children dwelling, 
Grew restive ‘neath Oppression’s hand, their souls with freedom swelling.
While often o’er the western waves, from out the land of wonder,
Bright visions of great New World had rent old ties asunder. 

Then up rose Lazarus Lowrey bold, his wife and bairns beside him,
Resolved to seek for Freedom’s home whatever fate betide him.
God-trusting heroes, on they came as fed with heavenly manna,
And bought from Penn their Canaan fair upon the Susquehanna.
 
The lads grew kingly with the breath of Freedom, only fearing
Their father’s God, their brother man, his every right reserving.
Nor deemed the simple forest child, the Red man, less than brother,
For noble natures recognize the noble in another.

And when the days of trial came, of which we know the story,
No Erin son of Scotia’s blood was ever found a Tory.
Upon the Constitution’s page of Penn’s blest land is written
Brave Alexander Lowrey’s name as foe to King and Briton.

Revere him in yourselves and live such lives as will not shame him;
His lofty spirit emulate that ye may justly claim him.
A nobler heritage is yours than acres rich and flowery –
Be worthy, children of the blood of Alexander Lowrey.”

From: Rootsweb, Ancestry.com: Immigrant to Virginia prior to1720, Thomas Wieland and related lines

“From the first disagreement he (Col. Lowrey) was an ardent and outspoken advocate for separation from Great Britain. On July 13, 1774 he was appointed to the Committee of Correspondence for Lancaster, and was a member of the Provincial Conference held in Philadelphia on July 15, 1774. In Dec 1774 he was appointed to a committee to watch suspected parties and prevent them, if possible, from purchasing tea or giving aid or comfort to the enemy. He was a party to the Convention that convened in Carpenter’s Hall, 18 July 1776, that instructed the Members of the Constitutional Congress to vote for independence, dating from 4 Jul 1776, and was a member of the Convention of 15 Jul 1777. He was chosen to the Assembly in 1775, 1778, 1779, 1780, 1785, 1786, 1787 and 1788. In May 1777 he was appointed one of the Commissioners to procure blankets for the army. In 1776 as Colonel he commanded the Third Battalion of the Lancaster County (Militia) Associators, and was active in the service in the Jerseys in that year. As Senior Colonel he commanded the 7th Battalion of Lancaster County Militia at the battle of Brandywine, where his command suffered heavy losses.

After the war he retired to his fine farm adjoining Marietta. A slave holder (he had three negroes on the Donegal Township assessment list of 1782), when the law authorizing the gradual emancipation of slavery in the State was under discussion in 1779, he took positive and strong ground against the separation of slave families by sale to different persons. He stood in such high repute that he was frequently called to remote sections to compose business differences and to settle disputes about the titles of lands. In 1784 the government appointed him to go as a messenger to the different Indian tribes to formulate a treaty at Fort MacIntosh and a second time for a treaty at Fort Detroit. Each time he returned at the head of several hundred Indians — this at age 61. Under the Consitution of 1789-90 he was appointed Justice of the Peace by Governor Mifflin, an office which he held until his death. In Aug 1791 he was elected to fill a vacancy in the State Senate caused by the death of Sebastian Graff, of Manheim township, where he served until the following October. He died (1/31/1805) a wealthy man and is buried in the Donegal Presbyterian Church Cemetery, Grave 30 (V5).”

At the close of the Revolutionary war Col. Lowrey was one of the largest landholders in Pennsylvania. The old homestead was less than a mile from Anderson’s ferry, so that many distinguished guests, including General Gates, stopped at his house shortly after his victory at Saratoga.

There is a wealth of information available about the Lowrey family, particularly Col. Alexander Lowrey. I discovered that Lazarus Lowrey, Jr. is listed in the first census of Fort Pitt (Pittsburgh), July 22, 1760 and the second census April 14, 1761. I have tried to include in this writing an interesting summary of the Lowrey family. Rather than rewrite a lot of the information I have quoted the information. Col. Alexander Lowrey is probably the most notorious member of my family. During the French and Indian War he supported the British against the French, and fought against the British in the Revolutionary War. I feel I have become acquainted with these ancestors through reading about them in numerous books, articles and genealogies and feel privileged to have discovered them and proud to be their direct descendant. They left a legacy of faith in God, fought and died for our freedom, and were influential in forming our nation.

General Bibliography and Credits – For detailed supporting information and documentation please consult the following references.
“A Biographical History of Lancaster Co. Being a History of
Early Settlers and Eminent Men of the County” by Alex. Harris, 1827
Lancaster, Pa.: Elias Barr & Co., 1872 – Pg. 375
An Early Record of Pittsburgh http://www.jstor.org/pss/20084351
Bushy Run Battlefield at http://www.bushyrunbattlefield.com
Blair County Forts (Fort Lowrey) – http://www.pagenweb.org/~blair/forts.htmChurch
Building Notes Donegal Presbyterian http://www.donegalpresbyterianchurch.org/History-Oldest_Sanctuary.html
CHAPTER 28, The Tracy Family History, Donegal Presbyterian Church, 1721- http://www.thetracyfamilyhistory.net/Ce_28_Donegal_Church.htm
Donegal Presbyterian Church – http://www.rotarydonegal.com/DAR%20HISTORY%20INCLUDES%203%20PICTURES%20IN%20THE%20INDEX.HTML
Google Books: Historical papers and addresses of the Lancaster County …, Volumes 23-24 By Lancaster County Historical Society (Pa.) http://books.google.com and search for Alexander Lowrey
Google Books: A century and a half of Pittsburg and her people, Volume 3 edited by John Newton Boucher – http://books.google.com and search for Alexander Lowrey
Google Books: “A Genealogical and Biographical History of Allegheny County, Pennsylvania” By Thomas Cushing – http://books.google.com/books search for Alexander Lowrey
Google Books: “Daughters of the American Revolution Magazine, Volume 16” By Daughters of the American Revolution – http://books.google.com/books and search for “Witness Tree”
Google Books: The Pennsylvania Federation of Historical Societies – about “Witness Tree” http://books.google.com/books
Google Books: National magazine: a monthly journal of American history, Volume 12 by William W. Williams, James Harrison Kennedy National magazine: a monthly journal of American history, Volume 12 By William W. Williams, James Harrison Kennedy – about Alexander Lowrey – http://books.google.com/books
Historical and Museum Commission, Revolutionary War Miltia Overview http://www.portal.state.pa.us/portal/server.pt/community/revolutionary_war_militia_overview/4125/lancaster_co__revolutionary_war_militia/435889
History of Pittsburgh and environs: from prehistoric days to the Beginning of the Revolution, Volume 1- by George Thornton Fleming – 1922 – PA. Roots – http://www.pa-roots.org/data/read.php?845,379004
History of the Donegal Township Riflemen As Researched by Larry G. Gorecki – http://www.donegaltownshipriflemen.org/riflemenhistory.html
Lazarus Lowrey – http://www.aboutcancer.com/lazarus_lowry_bio.htm
Penn Points – http://manycoups.net/PENN%20POINTS_page1.html – about “Witness Tree”
Rootsweb MOOREHEAD-L Archives – About the “Witness Tree” http://archiver.rootsweb.ancestry.com/th/read/MOORHEAD/2002-09/1031155840
Rootsweb, Ancestry.com: Immigrant to Virginia prior to1720, Thomas Wieland and related lines http://homepages.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~wayland/wayland/pafg119.htmPennsylvania
Witness Tree Chapter History – http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~pawtdar/history.html

And here is the freebie for today, a cluster and a clustered frame from my new kit, “Nothing Gold Can Stay” which is on sale today at Digitals:

DOWNLOAD

And here is a preview of the full kit:

Best,
Cyndi

1. Missing mates to about 20 pairs of the boys’ socks. Where are you socks?

2. The perfect book to read by the pool–not to heavy but not too light.

3. Fruit, other than apples, that my boys will eat and not have tantrums over. I’m. Tired. Of. Food. Tantrums.

4. The next best dog breed to a German Shepherd—thinking about a puppy for the boys & Ernie.

5. Hair color that never forgets those “temple greys” and makes me look like I’m 20 again.

6. One Eliza B flip flop. You can’t wear just one flip flop now, can you?

7. A motel in Lake George that will not cost a fortune but be “resorty” enough for me, my boys and Ernie.

8. My anthology of poetry by Rumi. I know it is here somewhere.

9. My 16GB camera card. I have 2 but only see one. Must. Find. Before. August 7th.

10. Photograph of me when Henry was born on my External Hard Drives. I have so many EHDs it’s taking awhile. Must. Start. Organizing. Photos.

11. The latest issue of “Yankee” magazine, that is hiding with the latest issue of “Down East” magazine somewhere in this house.

12. The perfect color of polish for my toes. Wedding on August 7th. Must. Get. Pedicure.

13. The perfect lunch box for Sam’s adventures in Kindergarten. Along with perfect backpack.

14. Cover for my putter. It. Is. Missing. Putter. Is. Getting. Scratched.

15. An air pump to blow up Henry’s new inflatable boat. Penn’s Creek here we come…

16. Time to clean my house. It. Is. A. MESS.

17. My creative mojo. If you see it please send it back. I. Need. to. Design. Again.

18. The perfect paint color for my kitchen cabinets. I’m tired of a dreary old kitchen. Must. Paint. Soon.

19. My tripod. Must. Take. Portraits. Of. Boys.

20. Hope.

What are you searching for today?

I want to know….

I never thought that Ernie, my black lab, would be the Last Dog Standing. Ernie (a girl, but named for Ernie Els) is not a dog that likes to be alone. Ever since she was a pup she had her sister, Gyro, to hang with, look out for her and keep her in line. The few times they had to go to a kennel, they shared a cage. We paid for two cages, but insisted they stay together. Ernie is a lab that never “took off” like labs are known to do. She stayed by our side simply because that was what Gyro taught her to do. German Shepherds are like that I guess. Ernie was her sheep to herd when we brought her home as a puppy.

So this morning I set out to write a blog obituary for my German Shepherd, Gyro, who died this past week. Instead, I decided to blog about Ernie, the Last Dog Standing. For in telling Ernie’s story, Gyro will be remembered. Isn’t that what obituaries are for afterall?

Ernie, short for Ernestine although no one calls her that since we all know she is Ernie Els in canine form, was one year younger than Gyro. My husband bought her for me as a birthday gift but she really isn’t my dog because like Gyro, she gravitated toward one master, he who feeds, walks and waters. In a way my husband was her master first, Gyro her master second. She will be 11 in the fall and for 11 years she has been living in the shadow of her sister, Gryo. Don’t get me wrong, she has a personality that is quite her own. Spend a day in our house and you’d realize that right away. But when your big sister is trained by nature to herd you and keep you in line, well you live in her shadow a lot.

But keeping Ernie in line when she was being trained as a puppy was not always easy, even for a smart dog like Gyro. Ernie REFUSED to be crate trained. REFUSED. No matter how small we made the crate, she’d mess the crate and herself. Then we had the ‘brilliant’ idea that we put Gyro in the crate with her when we went out. We soon learned that we would come home to two dogs covered in poop or pee and an even bigger mess to clean up.

So we tried the “block her in the kitchen” thing. Pushed the fridge in front of one entrance to the kitchen and got a huge piece of plywood and boarded up the other entrance with a 6 ft tall wall of wood. First day we did that we put both dogs in the kitchen. We came home to find Ernie still in the kitchen and Gryo hanging out in the living room. Gyro had scaled the plywood barrier and left Ernie inside. Afterall, her other job was to guard the house and I guess she decided that wasn’t going to work being locked in the kitchen. Just like when we crate trained Gyro, there wasn’t a crate she couldn’t escape. We tried bungie cords. We tried rope. And then we had to padlock her in the crate and lay the key on the floor so that if there was a fire or emergency someone could unlock all the padlocks and let her out. So perhaps in some dogspeak Gryo told Ernie to be a dog that refused to be crated. I think so.

Both dogs were raised for the majority of their lives on a golf course. In fact, they both were trained to never walk on the greens or the apron of the green. They knew their place was in the fairway to run and the rough to poop or pee. Ernie, like most labs, was naturally drawn to water. She loved to swim in the golf course ponds. Most summer nights we would take the golf cart and the dogs would follow us out to the ponds to catch a frisbee and swim.

Now with our two very different dogs (we’re talking intelligence here), frisbee throwing was always amusing. On land, Gyro was the frisbee champ. There wasn’t a frisbee she couldn’t catch. She’d jump as high as she had to and run faster in order to get it before Ernie. And Ernie was too short and too lazy to try and beat her to it. But in the pond, Ernie was reigning queen of frisbee. She kind of looked like an otter, just her head above the water skimming the surface, gliding to the frisbee. Gyro was the living definition of the “doggy paddle,” head high out of the water, splashing very unladylike as she could get it. But Ernie always got the frisbee in the water. Ernie ruled the pond. And in a way she taught Gyro how to swim because German Shepherds are not water dogs, they don’t take to water naturally like labs.

While most dogs these days are raised knowing how to walk on a leash, ours never grasped that concept. Gyro, with her territorial nature and constant need to run, hated the leash with a passion. When we lived in our apartment (and my Dad was the landlord) she would scare the neighbors simply by being present in the yard. We had a small side yard there and after work and in the evenings we’d throw the frisbee or a tennis ball for her. If she came within an inch of the neighbors yard the cops would be called. Some people just don’t get German Shepherds. All she wanted was her frisbee, not to attack anyone! So Gyro and the cops got to know each other pretty well. Luckily, the cop that usually showed up was a neighbor of my parents and Officer Chambers loved her, thought Gyro was the most beautiful specimen of the breed. And she was. In mind, body and spirit.

Now Ernie has never had the cops called on her. She’s just not that kind of dog. So in that sense, The Last Dog Standing did not follow Gyro. She stayed in the air conditioning and slept and ate. She didn’t scare people. She didn’t run. She knew her job–to be cute, eat a lot, bark a lot at nothing, swim and sleep. Gyro was clearly more intelligent. It only took one run in with a skunk on the golf course for her to recognize the smell of a skunk and get out of dodge. Ernie? Not so smart. She’d get sprayed. Even after we left the golf course, if we were driving in the car and someone had run over a skunk and that skunky smell was still in the air? Gyro’s ears would go back and she’d look for cover. She was just that smart.

Gyro was my safety net. Before I had children and my husband would travel, I never felt scared. I always felt protected. She alerted me to every sound outside and inside our house. She entered every room before me to make sure it was safe. The few times she was on a leash for a walk she was never a dog that would walk by my side. She always had to be out in the front, making sure the way we were going was “all clear.”

And when we had children, she became their safety net as well. She slept under their cribs. She guarded them like they were her pups. Ernie, however, is a different story. If someone broke into our house right now she’d probably not even get out from under the coffee table (her space these days) and if she did she’d wag her tail expecting a biscuit. She never had to guard or protect. Like me and the boys, Gyro did that for her, too. Gyro only showed her teeth or growled at other dogs if they came near Ernie. If we had Gyro alone, meeting other dogs was never an issue. But if we had them together, look out. Gyro wouldn’t let any dog near Ernie. That was her job.

When Gyro died last Wednesday we took Ernie with us to say goodbye to her. Most people who aren’t dog lovers or don’t appreciate the relationship these two dogs had with each other, would think this is insane. But it wasn’t. Just as we needed to say goodbye and the boys needed to tell her to say “hi” to Buc our cat who is also up in heaven, Ernie needed to say goodbye, too. So after we said our goodbyes and sent her on her way with greetings for Buc and all the goldfish we’ve sent up to heaven, I took the boys home, and Ernie and my husband stayed with Gyro until the end. Because that’s just what Gyro needed and just what Ernie needed.

Gyro & Buc

Now that Gyro has been gone several days I notice things haven’t really changed with Ernie. I think she notices the loss. But she’s getting old, too. Gyro’s chair next to our bed, the one she slept in ever since she was a pup, is still there. And as she got arthritic and couldn’t get up on the chair we put dog beds down for her. Those beds are still there, too. And Ernie hasn’t tried to sleep on either. It’s almost as if she is paying her respects to Gyro by NOT infringing on Gyro’s territory.

The house is more quiet. Since Ernie doesn’t get out from under the coffee table very much she’s not looking out the window barking at anything. Gyro’s spot was towards the end of the couch with her head resting on the arm of the couch so she could relax and still see out the front window and see the path to the door. Always on guard. Always keeping me warm in the winter when I couched it with a good book in front of the fire.

So here we are in a new chapter of dog life. Last week we had two dogs. Now we have one. Less noise–less toenails clicking on the hallway floor at night, less barking. One dog dish. One leash. Just one dog. It isn’t a chapter we want to write or live out, but most chapters in life aren’t always what we want, are they?

The Last Dog Standing is holding her own for now. She went for a swim in the pond yesterday. But there was no frisbee throwing. I don’t think she even swam very much. Afterall, her best friend wasn’t there to swim with her. I’m sure that if Ernie could speak she’d tell me she thought of Gyro in that pond yesterday, that she remembered the frisbee swimming days and the excitement they shared racing behind the golf cart, headed to their pond for a swim.

Grief has a power of its own, even for dogs.

The Last Dog Standing will teach us a lot I have a feeling…

Animals are such agreeable friends – they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms. ~George Eliot

An animal’s eyes have the power to speak a great language. ~Martin Buber

Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet. ~Colette

While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die. ~Leonardo Da Vinci

We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love. ~Madame de Stael

After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. ~J.K. Rowling

Golf and I have a history. A kind of bittersweet history in fact.

So I will share….

I met my husband because of golf. He was a golf course superintendent at Oakmont and I was a waitress in the best little joint in Oakmont. He was one of my customers. He and the other Oakmont superintendents used to come in for lunch every day. Oakmont is a golf obsessed town. If you don’t follow golf you wouldn’t know that the ladies US Open wraps up there today. Many memories of the 93 US Open, waitressing and serving many of the players, watching the little town become taken over with golfers and spectators. It was a fun time.

After we were married I realized that if I wanted to see my husband at all I needed to learn how to golf. Golf wasn’t a part of my childhood like it was a part of his growing up. I remember in college my dad went out to play golf with my brother in law in hiking boots and jeans. Yes, we were not golfers in the Fish household.

My husband taught me the basics and let me tell you, going out to play 18 with the golf course superintendent and knowing he was watching me put divets all over the course was certainly difficult. More so for him than me.

My first pair of golf shoes I won off my husband when he bet me that I couldn’t hit the ball from the fairway across a BIG pond onto the green. I did it. And I had my first pair of pretty golf shoes. I had arrived, at least in the fashion sense of golf.

When we moved to Elizabeth, PA and lived on the course that he ran things changed. We lived on the golf course. The driving range was practically in my front yard. The sound of the ball hitting the sweet spot of the driver woke me up many mornings before I was willing to be awake. It was in Elizabeth, at Riverview Golf Course, that I began to play a lot more and play a lot better. Now if my husband were to read this he would still say I was bad. Well, that’s another story…

Being a golf widow, to a husband who likes to golf and plays all the time is difficult. Being a golf widow to a husband who not only played every day but ran the course? Tougher. Lots of time waiting for the sun to go down and his golf cart to pull up to the house. I soon began to realize that if I wanted to see him I had to get out there and play. So the answer was lessons with the pro, Chad.

There was a group of four women, and while we had a blast teasing each other and often feeling as if we would never learn the game at all, we gradually got better. I really loved those Thursday night lessons. Miss them now in fact..

And then we decided to have children. And that didn’t work as you will know from reading my earlier posts. Many frustrating nights after work, after getting bad news from the fertility clinic, were spent with me out on the range either whacking balls off the tee with my driver or cleaning up the range with my irons. At the end of the day there were a lot of balls out there on the range. So I’d take my dogs and my 5 and 7 iron and just go at it.

The first time I did this I don’t think I could move the next day. That’s how many balls I hit. Hitting the balls was a distraction and exercise in venting my frustration with my life. Each ball was a baby I couldn’t have and some days it was a baby I lost.

And I began to understand a little bit more about the connection between life and golf.

And then there was the night after my last miscarriage that I realized I was never going to be a mother. I came home from the doctors and went to bed and stayed there for a long time, days in fact, wallowing in my sadness. And then I got up. I was in my pajamas. I hadn’t showered in days. I got out my clubs and got in my cart and went out on the course to play 18. My husband found me, probably because someone told him his crazy wife was out on number 6 tee in her pajamas. We finished that 18 holes together and a sad 18 turned into a fun 18 as he wagered me making dinner. Of course he won and I made dinner.

After that night I let the baby thing go. I began to play golf and slowly I didn’t whiff as much. My golf glove was no longer shiny white and tight, but gray and crinkled from wear. And the time came for me to be fitted for my own set of clubs. Real Clubs. TaylorMade clubs. It was like getting a brand new car. I actually had a set of clubs that could be hooked on the back of the cart with my husband’s and fit in. And better yet, I knew how to use those clubs. Not as well as I wanted to or he wanted me to, but I was set to learn and focused on doing so. The driving range clean up started to become a regular activity of my evening while I waited for my husband to come home from work.

After a month of playing with my shiny new clubs and seeing improvement in my game it all stopped. I was pregnant. All those months of no fertility clinics, no daily discouragement and no self pity and sadness had taken me to a place where I could let go. I let go and took up a game that demanded my attention, my daily focus. Instead of waiting for a nurse to call me and tell me “no, not this month” I was out on the course determined to master this game of golf.

So in letting go of the baby thing, I gained the golf thing. But now that the baby thing was a reality I had to let go of golf. I was a high risk pregnancy. I was told no golf. Those shiny new clubs got dusty. They just stayed in the closet even after we had Sam and moved. My husband was no longer in the golf business so he didn’t play as much either. We didn’t have golf carts at our front door, his and hers. And we didn’t belong to a course. We hit the driving range on occasion and it was nice to know I could still hit the ball, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. But nothing is after you have kids.

Now while I find myself at a point in my life when I am frustrated and sad about a lot of things, I have decided to dust off my clubs and get back in the game. I was approached by someone at the pool last week to play in a tournament on August 5th. I didn’t hesitate to say yes. It was like my inner golfer emerged with exuberance.

Of course I warned her that my game was rusty and aside form the occasional driving range experience I hadn’t played 18 in over 5 years. She laughed. I got out my clubs and hit the driving range.

Yes, me at the driving range with the boys on a Saturday morning yesterday was probably not the best idea. With boys running out onto the range to “go get mommy some balls” and grabbing my clubs and trying to putt on gravel, it was a disaster on many levels and a challenge to do. But I did it. I hit two buckets of balls. It felt good to know that I could hit it and still hit it pretty darn far for a mommy who has been out of the game too long.

So today we will once again venture to the driving range. I’ll fill up the buckets. Put on my glove. Tee up the ball. Give the boys some matchbox cars or a sand shovel for the sand pit. And I’ll whack away all the things I am frustrated with in my life.

If I know one thing about golf it is the sweet satisfaction when my driver hits the ball right where it is supposed to and my swing follows through and the ball just takes flight. And I stand there with a smile on my face as I watch it fall right where I wanted it to go.

If I keep doing this perhaps all the things wrong in my life, all the things I want and cannot have will either become mine or slip away without as much sadness.

Golf therapy.

Join me…..

And here’s a freebie just for today….my new “Cloud Alpha”..Personal Use/S4H only! And let me know you were here!

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I could have written a lot about my thoughts of Independence Day, patriotism, being American, etc. but I defer to my buddy Walt who says it just so much better than I could ever dream:

I Hear America Singing

by Walt Whitman, “Leaves of Grass”

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear;
Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing as he stands;
The wood-cutter’s song—the ploughboy’s, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife at work—or of the girl sewing or washing—
Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;
The day what belongs to the day—
At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.

Thanks for stopping by and have a fantastic, AMERICAN holiday weekend!

For you scrappers here is a freebie—2 Commercial Use for Commercial Use Cloud Stock Photos and 2 Personal Use stock photos. Enjoy!

Here are the 2 CU4CU stock photos of clouds–great for making gradients or overlays–and the two Personal Use stock photos perfect for layouts or blog posts:

Remember to check out the TOU and give credit where credit is due!

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