The Press-Dispatch

April 11, 2018

The Press-Dispatch

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C-8 Home Life Wednesday, April 11, 2018 The Press-Dispatch Katiedid vs... by Katiedid Langrock The fever dream Brighter Side by Janice Barniak Rooting against winter Outstanding Tool and Antique AUCTION SATURDAY, APRIL 14 Advertisement Signs, Antiques, Collectibles, Tools, Furniture & Glassware 10 a.m. EDT Location: 2667 E. Co. Rd. 400 S., Winslow, IN (Leighty's Trading Post) View photos on I.D. number 46613 watch for signs WAY TOO MANY ITEMS TO LIST! Auctioneer's Note: is is a great auction with lots of antiques and tools. Sale will be located inside with seats available. Come spend the day and have fun! Any questions, call Kaleb Claridge 812-789-6761. Big heavy equipment sign, Pepsi, sign, stop sign, blasting signs, speed limit sign, Scientific company 3 . thermometer, Coke thermometer, used car thermometer, Standard Oil Company oil pump, copper weathervane, two nail kegs, flat iron, several pieces of enamelware, Model T wheels, boiler, Evansville wooden box, Copper pot, galvanized watering can, cast iron spittoon, peanut jar, 10 gal. crock, 4 gal. Uhl crock, Uhl bean pot, 3 gal. jug, butter crocks, and other crocks, Coke and 7-Up wooden crates, several wooden advertisement boxes, picnic basket, egg crate, lanterns, Griswold cast iron cornbread pan, Coke and 7-Up coolers, dou - ble washtub on stand, Dazey butter churn, runner sled, Case and other pocket knives, lots of dishes and glassware, Carnival and cut glassware, whole set of Jewel tea dishes, Pyrex pieces, several small figurines, lots of furniture, end tables, showcases, book - shelves, 2 curio cabinets, antique dresser and mirror, pie safe, several sofa tables, claw foot table, rocking chair, wooden ornate chairs, loveseat, glass top stove, refrigerator, 4 drinking water coolers, several toolboxes, lots of wrenches, sockets, ratchets, namebrands like Snap-On, Mac, Proto, Crasman, S.K., Skil saw in box, Echo leaf blowers, Stihl weedeaters, chainsaw, Husky air compressors, DeWalt air compressor, Crasman grinder, vises, approx.. 150 lb. anvil, lots of fishing reels, Schwinn exercise bike. Terms and Conditions: Cash or check with proper I.D.; announcements day of auction take precedence over previous advertisements; buying everything as is, where is. 260-244-7606 • 800-451-2709 Absolute AUCTION W I T H O U T R E S E R V E ONLINE BIDDING AVAILABLE OWNER: FIRST FARMERS BANK AND TRUST CO. Sales Manager: Brad Horrall: 812-890-8255 #AC63001504 &$//)25%52&+85(259,6,7285:(%6,7( INSPECTION: Monday, April 16, 10AM-12 Noon Daviess County • Washington, IN WEDNESDAY, APRIL 25 TH • 1:00 PM 5601 S 50W, Washington, IN - Directions from the jct. of US Hwy 50 & Hwy 57, take Hwy 57 south 1 mi. to CR 100 S, turn left (south) & pro- ceed 3 mi. to the property. Auction held on site. 3URSHUW\DFUHVOHYHOWRVOLJKWO\VORSLQJ WRSRJUDSK\JUDYHOGULYHZD\VSXEOLFZDWHU IMPROVEMENTS TO THE LAND INCLUDE: Brooder House: 50'x300' wood frame w/ alum. ext., concrete floor, built in 2007. Flexible auger feeding system w/ metal bulk bins. Drinking water provided by Biddie & dry drinkers. Venti- lation provided by winch control side curtains & elec. fans on timers. Finishing Houses: 2 - 50'x500' wood frame w/ alum. ext., earthen floors. Flexible auger feeding system w/ bulk bin storage. Drinking provided via Plasson plastic waterers. Ventilation provid- ed by side curtains & tunnel ventilation. Litter Storage Building: 40'x80', 30' eves, concrete floor, 9' high concrete walls, above is wood frame construction. Large entry way well suited for placing & removing litter & compost. Built in 2012. 11.5 ± Acres Turkey Facility ·[· )LQLVKLQJ KRXVHV ·[· %URRGHUKRXVH ·[· /LWWHU6WRUDJH EXLOGLQJ OWNER: Pickaway County Community Foundation, LLC SALE MANAGER: Brad Horrall, 812-890-8255 AC63001504, AU01005815 ONLINE BIDDING AVAILABLE 8]b_TRcX^]3PcT) Friday, April 6th 10 AM - 12 Noon Meet a Rep at Tract 1 Call for color brochure or visit our website AUCTION LOCATION: Pike County Fair- grounds 4-H Building, 1211 W. St. Rt. 56, Petersburg, IN. Behind Hornady Park. DIRECTIONS: From the jct. of St. Hwy. 56 & St. Hwy. 57 at Petersburg to Tracts: Tract 1: Travel 2.8 miles west on Hwy. 56. Tract 2: Travel 3.7 miles west on Hwy. 56 to Co. Rd. 375W, turn north and travel 1.5 miles. (Property is ¼ mile west). Tract 3: Travel 5.2 miles west on Hwy. 56 to Co. Rd. 500W, turn north .6 miles, turn right then immediately left and proceed 2.5 miles north (watch for signs), turn right & proceed to Tract 3. TRACT DESCRIPTIONS: TRACT 1: 38± ACRES having 34.8 tillable acres, fronting Hwy. 56. TRACT 2: 40± ACRES being all tillable with Armiesburg & Vin- cennes soils. TRACT 3: 77± ACRES being 69 tillable acres with the balance woods. There is approx. 1500' of frontage along White River. 800-451-2709 AREA HAPPENINGS Petersburg Senior Citizens Center Hosting SHIP meeting – Monday, April 16, starting at 9 a.m. with coffee and donuts. Med Bingo will be provided by SHIP, which is an organization which helps people who are unable to pay for their medications. For more information, call Susan at 317-626 -7658 or the senior center at 812-354-8727. The senior citizens center is open from 8 a.m.-1 p.m. on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday in the Pike County Courthouse basement. Breakfast is served on the first Wednesday of the month, donations accepted to help with the cost. Everyone is welcome. Genealogy Club - Want to know your family his- tory? Do you have relatives that were in the Civil War or the Revolution? Genealogy Club will be at the His- tory Center Saturday mornings in April to help you at no charge from 9 -11 a.m. Al-Anon meeting – Meetings are each Wednesday at 11:30 a.m., located at 424 W. 7th St. in Jasper. For more information, call 812-887-0349. Celebrate Recovery Program – Meets every Sunday night from 5 to 7 p.m. at 207 Lafayette St. in Winslow. For more information, call Krystal Breed- ing 812-582-2562. Winslow Alcohol Anonymous – will meet every Tuesday at 7:30 p.m. Call 812-789 -8535 for location of the meeting. Narcotic Anonymous – Every Monday at 7 p.m. at River of Life Fellowship Church. For more informa- tion, contact 812-380 -1395. Women's Cancer Support Group - The Lange- Fuhs Cancer Center at Memorial Hospital and Health Care Center offers a support group for women who have had cancer of any type or are currently undergo- ing cancer treatment. . Sessions are the third Tuesday of each month from 6:30 to 8 p.m. in the Lange-Fuhs Cancer Center Confer- ence Room, located at Memorial Hospital and Health Care Center's Dorbett Street entrance. For more information about the "Women's Support Group," visit and click on "Classes & Events," or call The Lange-Fuhs Cancer Center at 812- 996 -7488. Pre-registration is not necessary. REAL ESTATE TRANSFERS Sharlene E. Parsons conveys to Emmanuel T. Mess- er and Kelsey L. Messer, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Russell Green conveys to Russell E. Green and Eliz- abeth A. Green, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Russell L. Tharp, Cindy L. Tharp, Regions Bank, Union Planters Bank FK A, and Sheriff of Pike Coun- ty convey to PNC Bank National Association, real es- tate as recorded in Pike County. Kevin Ray Woods and Keri A. Woods convey to Jef- fery K. Hyllested, real estate as recorded in Pike Coun- ty. Sheriff of Pike County, Melanie Siggers-Seeley and Robert Siggers convey to LNB Community Bank, re- al estate as recorded in Pike County. Donald G. Horrell conveys to Donald G. Horrell and Martha Horrell, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Donald G. Horrell conveys to Mo Brothers LLC, re- al estate as recorded in Pike County. Brian S. Jones conveys to Brian S. Jones and Diane P. Jones, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Eldon R. Coons and Glenda S. Coons convey to El- don R. Coons and Glenda S. Coons, real estate as re- corded in Pike County. OCWEN Loan Servicing LLC conveys to Secretary of Housing Development and Urban Development, re- al estate as recorded in Pike County. US National Bank Association conveys to Cara Rodella Hunt, real estate as recorded in Pike County. The freezing and thawing of this last week means I can't get the Brandywine raspberry bush I bought in the ground, and that is irritating me more than it should. We're in a holding pattern in the family—waiting for the weather to change and also for my mom's new handicap apartment to open up. My mom, facing hip and knee sur- gery, isn't going to be able to handle stairs or yard work or utility bills any longer, so she put herself on the wait list for a handicap apartment, and beyond the fact it makes me feel my mother, post-stroke, is now so fragile, it's also how I ended up agreeing to move to Princeton and pick up the pay- ments on her home when she finally gets into her hip-friendly new place. As a welcome-home present to my- self, I kicked off what will surely be a big renovation project by ordering the Brandywine raspberry bush, warmed by thoughts of summers 30 years ago at my grandmother's house, thinking surely by the time the raspberry ar- rived, we'd be in the new place. The plant showed up Monday, and it, like me, is a little rootless, because between the freeze and thaw cycle, there's been no way to put it in the ground. I'm ungrounded too as I've start- ed packing without knowing when mom's apartment will open, or when the ground will thaw. I decided to wait to buy the blackber- ry bushes, which were a strong feature of my grandmother's garden, since I don't want them, like the raspberry, to be at sea, especially as there's so much tied up in their coarse sweet taste. I remember one summer, my cousin, Kevin, and I, age 9 or 10, and my sis- ter, Sara, 5, were living with my grand- mother in Cynthiana for the summer, while somewhere in Pennsylvania, my mother was getting divorced from our then-stepfather Ken Blumenstock. Not that we knew it. Summers at my grandmother's house were incredible. We zipped quarts of blackberries in- to plastic bags and stored them in the deep freeze for my grandmother's amazing cobblers. We stepped on bees, and got heat rash and sunburn, and spent hours in the pool drinking bright red Kool-Aid and eating freeze pops, and making our own sandwiches. So Kevin and I were sitting on top of the deep freeze, having just stowed another batch of seedy blackberries in- to the freezer's perpetual winter, our hands covered in deep red juice when the screaming started. My cousin went to the window and he said "don't look, Janny," and then got my grandmother, who carried in my near-dead sister, while my cousin covered my face. My sister had tried to save the dog next door, an angry husky-chow that had spilled its water and had been go- ing without when the owners were away. They'd made it purposefully mean to use it as a guard dog. Sara had decided to give the dog water, and because she didn't want to get in trouble, she snuck out to do it. It attacked her. She lay on the kitchen table bleed- ing when 911 arrived. The EMTs sus- tained her even though the dog had bit- ten off the end of her nose and his top jaw had pulled the skin of the top of her face down over her eyes. She spent what seemed like months at St. Louis Shriners Hospital in- side a plastic bacteria-free bubble. Her head was swollen; she couldn't see out of her eyes. She was in a med- ically-induced coma inside the plastic tent. I wondered what she dreamed about, and if she knew she was dream- ing, and if those dreams were at all af- fected by the Pentecostals that came to pray over her, asking for a healing in so many tongues. I would think a lot about her dreams as she was suspended between alive and dead. Sometimes I would imagine that she didn't know she had been at- tacked, and in her mind she was still playing outside on that same day, or trying to train the dog. (She would lat- er be devastated to learn he was actu- ally put down because of the attack.) So, Sara dreamed. I wondered if we were in the dream, maybe when we slept at night, and I tried to will myself into where she was. Sara dreamed through that summer, while everything sped up for the rest of us. Mom's divorce was finalized in Pennsylvania. I felt a little cheated that I hadn't known when I'd left it was the last time, so I didn't know to take a photograph of the bunkbeds I loved, posi- tioned just so. My mom played "Zom- bie" by the Cranberries on the family's first CD play- er, one of the choices from those CD of the month clubs, where they drew you in with a dozen CDs for a dollar—not that we'd ever give up the eight-track, we thought. While Sara dreamed in a bubble in St. Louis, the Cranberries sang "what's in your head," all the way from Bird- in-Hand, Penn., to the Show-Me State, and like Kevin closing my eyes to the blood, I started to think it was better for Sara to dream through the strange changes. One father gone, a new man in the picture, our house gone, replaced by another. She slept through the diffi- cult parts. She never said she remembered any- thing from her time in her ziplock tent, which is strange since you would think almost dying would be one of the most memorable things to ever happen to a person. Sara's scars are practically gone now. Maybe it's morbid to snap back to the memory when I see blackber- ry bushes or red-stained fingers—she doesn't after all. The memory of blackberries doesn't bother me the way the floaty memo- ries of the plastic bubble bother me, though. The time she was suspended be- tween alive and not-alive was the hard- est for all of us, just like waiting is the worst part of an uncertain winter like this. I guess I'm remembering all this suddenly because I can't get these plants, these children or my mother for that matter, rooted, re-homed and thriving. The ground isn't awake yet—it's between alive and dead, and what the earth sees when she sleeps, we can't even know or dream into. When I was living in Australia, I heard about a girl who stepped on an old land mine while traveling through Indonesia. The blast threw her back, and to get better medical help, she was flown to Australia. Once she was patched up, she decided to continue her adventure by exploring northern Australia. Be sure to follow the road signs, she was warned. Ignoring them in Indonesia had gotten her blown up. Ignoring signs in Australia would most likely have her drive over a cliff and in- to a pit of human-eating spiders. Two days later, she totaled her car, driving into a stream that turned into a river. A fter being saved and losing her car, she decided to make the most of her trip by joining a tour. This way, no car would be required. At the Mary River, the campers were told to keep their distance from the shores of the body of water with the highest densi- ty of crocodiles Down Under. She de- cided it would be fun to go skinny-dip- ping with some sexy 16 -foot salties and was eaten. In 2002, I was training to become an adventure tour guide in the Out- back. As part of the training, I had to learn basic first aid and how to treat spider bites and snakebites in a coun- try teeming with animals dead set on killing you. The whole experience had me a bit spooked, and I asked my boss what would happen if someone were to die on my watch. He told me the sto- ry about the girl with the land mine and the car crash and the crocodile. "What's the moral of the story? " he asked. "Make sure people are actually lis- tening and don't just read signs but un- derstand the gravity of them? " I said. "When it's your time to go, it's your time to go. So don't worry about it." How perfectly Austral- ian. I think about croco- dile girl whenever some- thing terrible seems in- evitable. Even if you es- cape the land mine and the car crash, eventually a dinosaur will eat you for breakfast. Recently, the inevitable came in the shape of the flu. My family had missed the first round of flu, which knocked out half of my kids' classes and left ad- ministrators wondering whether the schools should be closed until fur- ther notice. We had missed the sec- ond round — when a sudden change in weather left everyone wheezing — too. But as we drove back from our spring break, we couldn't ignore our itchy throats and runny noses. The flu had finally clenched us in its jaw. Out of everyone in my family of four, I had it the worst. I couldn't work. I couldn't breathe. My brain was too thinky to fog. All I wanted to do was sleep. My husband stepped up, the way you do when your spouse is sick. He let me sleep in, getting the kids ready and taking them to school without help. He encouraged me to go to bed early. There was just one thing I was not al- lowed to sleep through. Months ago, my husband had bought tickets to an Of Montreal concert. He had seen them play a year prior and desperately want- ed to take me to a show. He explained that they are fun and theat- rical, meaning I would ac- tually like this band that he's a fan of. We couldn't miss it. I chugged DayQuil and was alert for the open- ing act, but by the time Of Montreal came on, the folks working the venue took such pity on my clearly de- volving state that they al- lowed me to go to a restrict- ed area to the side of the stage just so I could sit down. We watched the stage from these prime seats. As my fever spiked, I felt delirious. I have a tendency to halluci- nate when I have a fever. Pulling on my husband's jacket, I said, "I think I need to go home. I see aliens onstage." He laughed: "They are onstage! " Oh. A couple of songs later, I zipped up the jacket. "Feel my forehead. I see monsters onstage." "Isn't it great? " he replied. I gave him a glazed smile. At least I knew this wasn't a fever dream. He was right; this weird band was totally up my alley. I just totally wasn't healthy enough to enjoy it. "The crocodile is my favorite," I said. Apparently, there was no crocodile onstage. He took me home. When it's your time to go, it's your time to go. Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at humor.

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