Janet's Blog

I was combing my hair a while back, right after a haircut, when I leaned in closer to the mirror so I could see a little better. I wasn't imagining things; my hair, at least in the front, was much browner than it used to be! My hair has been increasingly silver, with a rather large white streak in the back, for several years now. (I guess I should be glad that silver hair is so popular, right now, that even younger women are purposefully dyeing their hair various shades of silver.) I've never colored my hair, so it has been interesting, although a bit maddening, I'll admit, to watch the progression from my natural dark brown to multi-faceted silver tresses. I never really expected to see that brown hair again. Most women my age have colored their hair for years, so they have to trust their roots to tell them what their natural, undyed color might be. Who would have guessed that graying hair might sometimes return closer to its original color? I've been mulling

It had been, oh, forty years, I suppose, since I last visited McDowell's Mausoleum, a few miles southwest of Fairbury. I traipsed along that trail several times with my family, as I was growing up. We hiked somewhere or other, nearly every weekend, just because we loved to get outside and walk. I remember being amazed that few of my friends had ever heard of the mausoleum, and even fewer had seen it. The mausoleum is a hand-carved tomb, built into a sandstone cliff in the early 1900's by Nelson McDowell, a rich bachelor whose father was one of Fairbury's founders. He worked for nearly a decade before the tomb was finished. However, when he was killed suddenly, in a car-train accident, state law prevented his burial in the mausoleum. So, it sits there today, on the bank of Rose Creek, empty as ever. (When I first wrote about the mausoleum a few years ago, I included more historical details and family trivia. You may click  here  to read my previous blog.) I do

We moved to Fairbury on Friday, May 1st, 1964. I had just turned nine years old. Mom took Danny and me to Eastward School the following Monday, right after lunch. That morning, she had met with the appropriate school officials to determine which school we would attend. Eastward was a few blocks farther for us to walk than Central, but we didn't really mind. We were eager to attend a newly-built school, which was quite a contrast to the stately, but aging, grade school we had attended in Norfolk. We were excited that our new school offered a hot lunch program, so we no longer had to hurry home for lunch. School started at 8:30 in the morning, which was quite a change for us, since we were used to starting at 9:00, but we were excited to be done for the day by 3:15, instead of 3:45. Mom fussed a little bit that we were changing schools in May, when there were only a couple of weeks of school left for the year, but she rationalized that we would be able to make some friends that w

It happened again, at the airport this time. I observed someone who was greeting an older woman, giving her a big hug, and announcing, "You look so good!" I didn't hear the woman's reply, but she appeared to answer graciously. Bill commented later that some of his business acquaintances have been greeting him the same way, which makes him feel just a little uncomfortable. He lost a lot of weight a few years ago, and is clearly in good physical shape from his early morning workouts, but he doesn't necessarily want people telling him he looks good. It has been said that "beauty is only skin deep;" I have found that most mature people prefer to be recognized for who they are, rather than what they look like. There is a time and place for everything, of course. It is certainly okay to compliment someone on their weight loss, if you know they have recently been working hard to achieve that goal. And, if a close friend or relative has just successfully com