Review of Footprints in the Ozarks, A Memoir by Ellen Gray Massey

A few months ago, Ozarks writer Ellen Gray Massey wrote and asked if I would be interested in reading and reviewing her memoir, Footprints in the Ozarks.

It took less than a minute to reply, "Of course!"

At that time I had a list of books I'd already been assigned to read and review, along with deadlines for several writing projects, but Ellen's request was a no-brainer.

Full disclosure: I've known Ellen for about 15 years, and for as long as I've known her she has been an inspiration to me and other writers. She is kind and generous and wise, as well as a talented writer and storyteller and a respected authority on the Ozarks.

After explaining my workload whining about my workload, I wrote that most likely I couldn't finish my review until May. She graciously answered that would be no problem and promptly sent me a signed copy of her memoir. While Ellen gave me a copy of her memoir, she did not pay me to review her book, and I did not promise to give it a favorable review--just an honest one--by the end of May.

True to my word, on this last day of May, I am reviewing Ellen's delightful memoir.

Footprints in the Ozarks is a collection of short essays that capture the essence of the Ozarks, its people, its traditions, and its impact on American culture. Ellen's Ozarks story opens in December, 1944, with a story about her future husband Lane Massey. Dedicated to the memory of Lane, Footprints in the Ozarks is a  personal glimpse into Ellen's years as a wife, mother, teacher, writer, and Home Agent for the Missouri Farm Bureau.

The memoir is divided in three parts: Home Agent in Lebanon, The Farm, and Back in Lebanon. The book's primary setting is Laclede County, Missouri, around the town of Lebanon, Missouri, located along historic Route 66, now Interstate 44.

As you read about Ellen's life, you'll learn about Ozarkians, Ozarks customs and sayings, and a rural lifestyle in bygone days --- a time of Shivarees, homemade rag rugs, pie suppers, and one-room schoolhouses. The photos enhance the memoir and give an intimate portrait of Ellen and her family.

While Ellen Gray Massey's footprints mark her life's work, her memoir Footprints in the Ozarks will leave an indelible impression on readers who want to learn about the people and the place --- the mysterious, magnificient, Missouri Ozarks.

Leap Day Trivia, Traditions and Legends

Growing up, most of us learned the rhyme (or a similar version of it):

Thirty days have September,
April, June and November.
All the rest have thirty-one,
but February stands alone
with twenty-eight, in line
Till leap year makes it twenty-nine.

Procrastinator that I am, I'm happy to have an extra day to meet a March 1 deadline tomorrow. Other than that, Leap Year/Leap Day has its own special trivia, traditions, and legends.

Did you know that:

* According to Irish legend, St. Brigid of Kildare approached St. Patrick on behalf of all women to complain they had to wait for marriage proposals from men. St. Patrick agreed that each Leap Year, specifically on Leap Day, the tables would be turned and women could propose to men.  

* In some countries, Leap Day is also known as "Bachelor's Day."

* In Scotland, a woman proposing on Leap Day should wear a red petticoat under her skirt--and make sure it's partly visible when she proposes.

* In Scotland, it was once considered unlucky to be born on Leap Day.

* People born on February 29, are called "leaplings" or "leapers."

* People born on February 29 are invited to join The Honor society of Leap Year Day Babies.

* In Greece it’s supposed to be unlucky for couples to marry on Leap Day.

Here's a link to read more Leap Day superstitons. If you type "Leap Year Superstitions" in Google search you can find even more.

Now I better get back to work on those pesky deadlines. Although after reading the Irish Leap Year legend, I have an excuse--procrastination is apparently a trait I inherited from Irish ancestors on my dad's side.

Traditions of St. Nicholas Live On

Today is the feast day of St. Nicholas, who was the fourth-century bishop of Myra, a city in Lycia, a province of Asia Minor.

In grade school we learned about how Nicholas was very generous to a poor man in his diocese who had three beautiful daughters. The man couldn't provide money for his daughters to marry and was worried they would be forced into a life of sin. Nicholas secretly gave the man bags of gold to enable the daughters to be married. As the legend of the generosity of Nicholas grew, the custom evolved of gift-giving on the saint’s feast day. In many countries, like America, he became known as Santa Claus.

When I was young we put our shoes out so St.Nicholas could leave treats inside. A few other customs we followed was we always found oranges and candy canes in our stockings on Christmas morning, and of course before Christmas we donated canned goods for the needy--which one year was us.

In the Bavarian area of Germany, where my husband grew up, the custom was a bit different. Sankt Nikolaus day was a holiday, with a parade in the city and the children got visited. If you were good, you got visited by St. Nikolaus. If you were bad, Ruprecht came a knocking on your door to box your ears. Guess which one visited my hubby most years?

In the early and mid 1980s, when I lived and worked in Germany, the local nationals (or LNs as we called them) I worked with, got St. Nicholas day off, but the day before we all had a luncheon feast at work. On December 5th The LNs stayed late after we left. The next morning the desks of the Americans (or the Amis as they called us) had special treats on them. Of course, the day before Thanksgiving, we treated them to a feast. It was a nice exchange of customs.

I am fascinated by customs of other countries and like traditions and try to instill in my grandchildren a sense of the past.

My granddaughter says my husband and I are "old school," which I consider a compliment. But, even though our grandkiddos are teenagers now, I know their shoes will be outside their bedroom doors this evening. One of them will also make sure Harley, our black Lab, will get a treat. So, it's a trip to the store today to get some goodies for them all.

For the past two weekends one of my grandkids has helped carry gifts from the giving tree in church to the parish center after Mass. I'm hoping that by volunteering even in a small way they will understand that Christmas is more about giving than receiving.

Here's a link to a site with customs about St. Nicholas. How about you? Do you celebrate St. Nicholas Day or any other feasts or have family traditions during the Advent or Christmas season? Cookie exchanges, maybe or Secret Santas?

Shopping on Black Friday - A New Tradition

Last night and early this morning I did something I said I would NEVER do again. I fought the crowds to shop on Black Friday.

Shopping on Black Friday used to be a fun tradition I shared with my late daughter Julie, her in laws, and a few friends. Thanksgiving day we would scour the ads. The next day we met in the wee hours, fought the crowds, got the early bargains, grabbed a late breakfast, shopped some more, grabbed a late lunch, more shopping--maybe a trip to the ATM-- then drove back home by dark. It took a day to recover, but by golly I got some great bargains. Even if it was stuff I didn't need, at least I got it cheap.

Since we lost Julie and Mike in a motorcycle accident almost six years ago, shopping on Black Friday hadn't been a priority. My husband Walt and I were busy raising Cari and Michael, Julie and Mike's children. We made sure our grandkids got nice Christmas gifts, but I joked I would rather take a stick in the eye than fight the Black Friday crowds. Actually, it was because shopping on Black Friday brought back memories I wasn't ready to relive.

Then late Thanksgiving night Cari asked if I would take her and a friend of hers shopping.

So, shop we did.

We left the house around 11 p.m., drove to her friend's house, picked her up, then rode around looking for bargains--and a parking spot. I shook my head when I saw the lines of folks camped out in front of Best Buy. I spotted a tent and a bonfire, folks sitting in camp chairs, and a few playing cards at a table. We kept driving. The parking lot at Toys R Us was packed, so we continued on our way.

We ended up at Wal-Mart shortly before the advertised 12:01 a.m. sales began.

Maybe it was because of the cold or maybe the freeing rain, but people literally ran into the store from the parking lot. Inside, the greeter handed out sheets that showed where the advertised items were located. As I wandered around trying to maneuver through the crowded aisles, Cari and her friend, cell phones in hand, let me know where they were as they looked around.

I watched shoppers with wild looks in their eyes pile stuff in their overloaded carts. As expected, toys and games were hot items. Suprisingly, so were towels, steam mops, candle gift sets, luggage, storage tubs, and other household goods.

At 11:59 I stood in a line which did not move for 15 minutes, then it slowly inched forward. While I waited with my few bargains, Cari found a couple of inexpensive accessories she had to have. I passed the time talking with fellow shoppers. A twentyish woman in front of me had a basket filled with toys, games, and some household items. We chatted about Christmases past. She told me how excited her five-year-old son was the year she bought him a dinosaur that she got on sale for $100, but which she later sold at a garage sale for $10. "It was worth it," she said, "just to see the look on his face Christmas morning."

The family behind me took turns shopping while one from their group manned the cart. Not a bad strategy. Eventually our line forked into two. The twenty-something young lady veered towards the left; I to the right. That's when I noticed I could've used the Express line, but I didn't want to get out of line and take the chance of an even longer wait. At the fork I stood behind a family with three jam-packed carts. The checker was a woman about my age who was fast, efficient, and pleasant. By the time we left the store, around 1 a.m., I was about $80 poorer, but richer for the experience.

Outside, Cari ran into a couple young men from school who were selling hot chocolate to shoppers in the parking lot. What a clever way for teenagers to earn Christmas money!

After getting the girls a snack at a drive-through and taking Cari's friend to her house, it was well 2 a.m. when we got back home.

I drank a cup of hot tea and read for a bit then crawled into bed around 3 a.m. My feet ached, my back hurt, but I smiled as my head hit the pillow. Maybe it was time I started a new Black Friday tradition--this one with my granddaughter Cari.