Laura-Lee Was Here

Laura-Lee Was Here

December 31, 2016

TV's Funniest Moments ... Ever!


 


I thought for a long time what kind of blog post I should write to say "Good-Bye" to 2016 and bring in the New Year of 2017.

I decided I wanted to laugh and "rejoice" it away. So, without wasting any more time, I present to you my Play List of  "TV's Funniest Moments ... Ever!"

And you don't have to take my word for it because they are all recorded in front of a LIVE audience.


Happy New Year

Thank you for visiting my blogs through the last year and keeping me encouraged.

I hope and pray to see you again in the coming year of 2017.


"Taste and see that the Lord is good." 
   Psalm 34:8


Love Laura-Lee 

LINK to "TV's Funniest Moments ... EVER!" (YouTube)


December 24, 2016

A Happy (& Princely) Christmas Eve to You




As a child, I saw a short animated TV show called, "The Happy Prince". I knew nothing about it except that I thought it was wonderful.

As a young woman, I came across a beautiful magazine called "Victoria". Everything about it was lovely (even the advertisements) and I kept every issue I bought. But as good as Victoria was throughout the year, their Christmas issue was truly something to behold. From the articles to the recipes to the amazing pictures taken by some of the world's greatest photographers.

One year I bought the Victoria magazine Christmas issue and was pleased to discover it had the complete Oscar Wilde story of "The Happy Prince" printed inside (the "olden" days when magazines came as hardcopies).

That Christmas Eve Mom suggested we read "The Happy Prince" out loud and a family tradition was born. 
As we were packing away the Christmas decorations in January, that issue of Victoria was packed right next to our Christmas stockings so it would be easily available the following year.

As many of you know, in 2013 my beloved mother died and in the time since then, I lost the rest of my closest family members too. For people experiencing grief, Christmas can be an extremely painful and lonely time. And, for these past three years, I've been unable to read or listen to "The Happy Prince". Just glimpsing that particular issue of  Victoria brought me pain. So I never even took it out of the box.

But this year I'm going to bring it out again, along with all and any of the memories it calls forth. 

Once again I'll read that classic story of a happy prince who spent his short life living in an ivory tower unaware of anything except his own pleasures. But in the form of an expensive statue he looks over his city where he sees those he never knew (or even cared) existed when he was alive. And, with the help of a dedicated little swallow, (who takes great risks to help him) he is able to bring help and happiness to those within his kingdom who are suffering. 

I am including a copy of  "The Happy Prince" along with a LINK to the video of the original animated short I saw all those years ago.

As I wish you a "Happy Christmas Eve", I pray you are neither suffering nor lonely. Thank you for sharing this part of it with me.

Love, Laura-Lee   




LINK to "The Happy Prince" Animated Video (YouTube)


LINK to "The Happy Prince" PRINTABLE Version (East of the Web Website)



by Oscar Wilde 
High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.
     He was very much admired indeed.'He is as beautiful as a weathercock,' remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic taste; 'only not quite so useful,' he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.
     'Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?' asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. 'The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.'
     'I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy', muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
     'He looks just like an angel,' said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores.
     'How do you know?' said the Mathematical Master, 'you have never seen one.'
     'Ah! but we have, in our dreams,' answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.
     One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.
     'Shall I love you said the Swallow', who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
     'It is a ridiculous attachment,' twittered the other Swallows, 'she has no money, and far too many relations;' and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away.
     After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. 'She has no conversation,' he said, 'and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.' And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtsies. I admit that she is domestic,' he continued, 'but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.'
     'Will you come away with me?' he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
     'You have been trifling with me,' he cried, 'I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!' and he flew away.
     All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. 'Where shall I put up?' he said 'I hope the town has made preparations.'
     Then he saw the statue on the tall column. 'I will put up there,' he cried; 'it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air.' So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
     'I have a golden bedroom,' he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing, a large drop of water fell on him.'What a curious thing!' he cried, 'there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.'
     Then another drop fell.
     'What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?' he said; 'I must look for a good chimney-pot,' and he determined to fly away.
     But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw - Ah! what did he see?
     The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
     'Who are you?' he said.
     'I am the Happy Prince.'
     'Why are you weeping then?' asked the Swallow; 'you have quite drenched me.'
     'When I was alive and had a human heart,' answered the statue, 'I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.'
     'What, is he not solid gold?' said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
     'Far away,' continued the statue in a low musical voice,'far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-fowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.'
     'I am waited for in Egypt,' said the Swallow. 'My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.'
     'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince,'will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.
     'I don't think I like boys,' answered the Swallow. 'Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller's sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.'
     But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. 'It is very cold here,' he said 'but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.'
     'Thank you, little Swallow,' said the Prince.
     So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
     He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. 'How wonderful the stars are,' he said to her,'and how wonderful is the power of love!' 'I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,' she answered; 'I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.'
     He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings. 'How cool I feel,' said the boy, 'I must be getting better;' and he sank into a delicious slumber.
     Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. 'It is curious,' he remarked, 'but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.'
     'That is because you have done a good action,' said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
     When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath.
     'What a remarkable phenomenon,' said the Professor of Omithology as he was passing over the bridge. 'A swallow in winter!' And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.
     'To-night I go to Egypt,' said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, 'What a distinguished stranger!' so he enjoyed himself very much.
     When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. 'Have you any commissions for Egypt?' he cried; 'I am just starting.'
     'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, 'will you not stay with me one night longer?'
     'I am waited for in Egypt,' answered the Swallow. To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.'
     'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince,'far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.'
     'I will wait with you one night longer,' said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. 'Shall I take him another ruby?'
     'Alas! I have no ruby now,' said the Prince; 'my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.'
     'Dear Prince,' said the Swallow,'I cannot do that;' and he began to weep.
     'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, 'do as I command you.'
     So the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to the student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.
     'I am beginning to be appreciated,' he cried; 'this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,' and he looked quite happy.
     The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. 'Heave a-hoy!' they shouted as each chest came up. 'I am going to Egypt!' cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
     'I am come to bid you good-bye,' he cried.
     'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince,'will you not stay with me one night longer?'
     'It is winter,' answered the Swallow, and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.
     'In the square below,' said the Happy Prince, 'there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.
     'I will stay with you one night longer,' said the Swallow,'but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.'
     'Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, 'do as I command you.'
     So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. 'What a lovely bit of glass,' cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.
     Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. 'You are blind now,' he said, 'so I will stay with you always.'
     'No, little Swallow,' said the poor Prince, 'you must go away to Egypt.'
     'I will stay with you always,' said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince's feet.
     All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
     'Dear little Swallow,' said the Prince, 'you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.'
     So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another's arms to try and keep themselves warm. 'How hungry we are' they said. 'You must not lie here,' shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
     Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
     'I am covered with fine gold,' said the Prince, 'you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.'
     Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. 'We have bread nod' they cried.
     Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.
     The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door when the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.
     But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more.'Good-bye, dear Prince!' he murmured, 'will you let me kiss your hand?'
     'I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,' said the Prince, 'you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.'
     'It is not to Egypt that I am going,' said the Swallow. I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?'
     And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.
     At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
     Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: 'Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!' he said.
     'How shabby indeed!' cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.
     'The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,' said the Mayor; 'in fact, he is little better than a beggar!'
     'Little better than a beggar,' said the Town Councillors.
     'And there is actually a dead bird at his feet,' continued the Mayor. 'We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.' And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
     So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. 'As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,' said the Art Professor at the University.
     Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. 'We must have another statue, of course,' he said, 'and it shall be a statue of myself.'
     'Of myself,' said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarreling still.
     'What a strange thing!' said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry.'This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.' So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
     'Bring me the two most precious things in the city,' said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
     'You have rightly chosen,' said God,'for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.

December 21, 2016

Memories of the "Perfect Gift": Laughter






I've mentioned that when Mom was still alive we talked and talked but we also literally laughed ALL DAY LONG. We laughed even in the worst of situations. Often we laughed MORE in the worst of situations.

At one point we were both without a place to live at the same time. 

Mom was going through a landlord dispute that started with a simple leaking faucet and kept stretching out from days to weeks and then to months. She was in her wheelchair full time by then and getting visibly sicker with each passing day.

My apartment roof had caved in and I had lost about 75% of my possessions. I was still recovering from my fall down the flight of stairs that smashed up the right side of my body from my foot to my cheek bone.

We took up residence together in a dumpy hotel room that actually had holes in the wall and the beds were so old that they no longer made sheets that fit them. But we loved, prayed and laughed our days and our fears away.  And this God-given joy at the center of our lives drew many people to us. Mostly the staff members of this hotel. That's when we got the nickname, "The Rowdy Rahns ".

Sometimes people from the house-keeping staff delayed going home just to drop-in to ask if we "needed anything?" in the hope we'd invite them in for a while. Mom said to me one evening, "I've never been in a room so dirty that had so many maids in it."

Our "kitchenette" was a small 2-cup coffee maker that only produced luke warm water, but we purchased a plug-in kettle. We weren't actually allowed to have it but the policy was changed for us. 

We were there for Christmas that year and a member of the staff found an "ancient" microwave oven and we worked a "surprise" conspiracy to get the microwave into the room so Mom would wake up on Christmas morning and it would just be there. And we were able to do it. 



But at least once a day someone would say to me seriously, "If I was going through what you two are I wouldn't be laughing I'd be looking for a way to kill myself."






During these years without Mom, I've endured things I never even imagined I would have to go through. But I think what has really made them so awful is that I don't laugh anymore. I can still see the humor in things, but not to the point of actual laughter.

A couple of days ago I said to God, "You've proven you're always with me, you're faithful and good but it's been years without laughter. Years without an honest, gut laugh, And even though I know it's not the way it should be, it's been so long that by now I'm sure I'll never laugh out-loud again."

But never say "never" to God. He longs to do the "impossible" for us. In the past 2 days not only have I laughed out-loud, but I've done it more than once. This morning I actually laughed for several MINUTES!

From what I'm capable of seeing, nothing in my life has been improved or changed by Jesus ... except me. 
But I wouldn't have expected the King of kings to come as a baby in a stable either. 

Why do I wait so long to take things to the Lord when He loves me so much?




"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, ..." James 1:17a  (NKJV Bible)

Sincerely, Laura-Lee  




December 20, 2016

Honored by Citizens of Communist Countries






Google/Blogger keeps records of who comes to my blogs. I read these "Statistics" very carefully mostly because I pray daily for those who come here and I want to know more about you.

Except for the United States of America, it has become a regular occurrence that Russia is second on the list of the most people visiting me here online. Then the people of Poland and my own country of Canada usually in a close tie for third place.


When I think about Russia and Poland and all the massive hardships they have endured in their history and currently still face, I often feel embarrassed because I can gripe, whine and complain about such small and even ridiculous things.

 For Example:

  • having to wait 4 minutes for the microwave to heat up my supper.
  • that I can't find a pen that doesn't leave blotches.
  • a store doesn't stock the hand lotion I like the best.
  • my cat flushing my toilet constantly while I'm trying to sleep


In Canada I have complete freedom to follow my [belief in] Jesus without restrictions. I own not one but several Bibles and I have never had to face war on Canadian soil (although we have sent soldiers).


The Russian and Polish people (especially my Christian brothers and sisters) have character traits and levels of perseverance and dignity in trials I will probably never even hope to attain in my lifetime. 

How can I NOT be inspired by your example? 
How can I NOT wish to know each person living there better?
How can I let one more moment pass and NOT say, "Thank You" for the honor you do me in caring to read anything that I have to say?

With deep sincerity, Laura-Lee


The Cross waves higher than ANY flag



The United States of America

Russia


CANADA

Poland






Statistics Graph
(the Greener a Country, the more visitors come from there)

December 06, 2016

Mom Memories Poetry: "[Because] We Knew"


For about a decade before Mom died we lived at separate ends of our city, meeting once a month to discuss the things that still loomed large between us or simply to hear more in-depth about the things that affected both of us. She was getting so sick we knew that she could die literally at any moment. As a result, we wanted to make sure that nothing important was left unsaid so we would not have major regrets after she died.

You'd think that focusing on death that much would have a negative effect on our relationship, but it was just the opposite. It didn't happen overnight but it rearranged our priorities and our love for each other became more profound and fierce in foundational ways. 
I penned a poem about this a few days ago and I share it with you  now.

*  As usual, it enhances a poem to read it out loud.





[Because] We Knew

~ by Laura-Lee Rahn

Anger stopped.  Pettiness ceased.
Our life together, one of joy and peace
No one could steal the hope we shared
Our strength in weakness. Our unity in prayer.
Happiness in sorrow. it grew, it grew
[Because] Time was short, we knew, we knew.

 Fire & Cloud. Pillars constantly leading.
The great 'I Am". Stormy waters receding
our "ABBA" Father. His Right Hand ascending.
Belief in Israel. Angels climbing and descending
Promises and Blessings. not few, not few
[Because] faith in the Impossible, we knew, we knew.


My misery now, dwarfed by laughter then.
My gratitude for you, loved so much back when.
The Ancient of Days took His Throne
This world His footstool. I should have known.
Roses of heaven. in dew, in dew
[Because] walking with Jesus, we knew, we knew.



(Once again, a result above and beyond my simple talent. Thank you, Jesus. Love Laura-Lee)

Saturday, December 3, 2016
Edmonton, AB, Canada




December 03, 2016

Civil War Letters: "Letter to Sarah"



Below is a letter I transcribed from " 'Ken Burns Civil War - Episode 1' at YouTube"  documentary.

Not "shared" or promoted in any way. It is here just as something special and extra for those of you who stop by each week to see if  "Laura-Lee Was Here".

You are so dear to me my faithful and beloved bloggers.
Sincerely, Laura-Lee



(You can find all the Civil War episodes now playing at the YouTube Website)



Letter to Sarah Ballou, wife in Smithfield.

(letter begins at time code  1:31:35  ) 

(copied down verbatim by Laura-Lee Rahn)



(Sullivan Ballou,  Major in the 2nd Rhode Island Volunteers,  wrote home to his wife, Sarah, in Smithfield)



"July 14, 1861, Washington, DC

Dear Sarah,

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days. Perhaps tomorrow. Unlest I should not be able to write you again,  I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I am no more.

I have no misgivings about or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how American civilization now leans upon the triumph of the government and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing, perfectly willing, to lay down all my joys in this life to help maintain  this government and  to pay that debt.




Sarah, my love for you is deathless. It seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence can break. And yet, my love of country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly with all those chains to the battlefield. 

The memory of all the blissful moments I've enjoyed with you come crowding over me and I feel most deeply grateful to God and you that I've enjoyed them for so long. And how hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes and the future years when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and see our boys grown up to honorable manhood around us.


Ballou Family

If I do not return, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I loved you. Nor that when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name. 


Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you.  How thoughtless. How foolish I have sometimes been. 

But, O Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth, and flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be with you in the brightest day and the darkest night. Always. Always. 

And when the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath. Or the cool air, your throbbing temple. It shall be my spirit passing by. 
Sarah, do not mourn me dead. Think I am gone and wait for me. For we shall meet again ."


Sullivan & Sarah







(Sullivan Ballou was killed a week later at the first battle of Bull Run)



Gettysburg Address Civil War Speech

A Framed Parchment of the
Gettysburg Address (like this one)
hung in our home for many years. 

From large home to skid shack, wherever we lived it was prominently displayed in the kitchen by our table for all to see. 
Even  before I could read, I would ask Mom to read it out loud for me and she would stop whatever she was doing  and do just that. (even when she knew I made the request just to stall from doing something I didn't want to do). 
Next to Abraham Lincoln himself, I don't think anyone could have recited it better or with more depth of feeling than she did. I didn't understand all of it, but the way Mom read it made me long to know it's true and deeper meaning.
(I wonder how many ways that affected me?) 



Abe Lincoln at Gettysburg



                                     Gettysburg Address


by Abraham Lincoln

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863




LINK to INFO "Gettysburg Address" at History.com Website