TOO LITTLE TOO EARLY AND A WAR BETWEEN THE STATES REFLECTION

 I remember reading that Ernest Hemingway rewrote one of his works at least a hundred times.      

 After rereading this blog I had a connected feeling with my ancestors who felt sad during and after the Civil War. Some say, they feel similarly today. After 12 years I am publishing it again because it

seems that individuals are in a sense at war, but also the states.

                            

      Edith Wharton said she had little memory of books or stimulation that stretched

 her mind, in her early years. Sounds unbelievable because she published so 

many works of literature, and supported herself  well on earnings from 

her writings. 

     My attention to literature developed at a snail’s pace, as well. There is little 

memory of books with any flavor that stretched my thinking.

      Sunday school and Bible classes in summer stirred my curiosity of stories from

 the Old Testament,  supplemented with maps of exotic faraway places of Egypt 

with the Nile and pyramids. At Christmas, the kings and wise men riding on camels 

and somewhere a story of Persia and flying carpets carried me to magic places.

     Elementary school readings are not memorable except,   “Dick and Jane”, 

and then “Heidi”, who lived in the Alps with a grandparent. The Alps were difficult 

to imagine when I was surrounded by the flat lands Of Oklahoma. The largest  

elevation of earth was the Arbuckles in the south part of the state. Okies called

them “Mountains”. But they did not know better. The Alps were very far away. 

In the third grade “Nancy Drew”, captured my attention because she was young

and drove a roadster through the hills and country, looking for mysteries to solve.

 I guess I found her at the library.

     But I do remember I found a college prep text. A previous tenant left it behind

 at my girlfriend’s house in her basement, where we sometimes played. Betty Lou 

said I could take it home. I glanced at the stories from time to time. It was filled 

with short stories and poems. I tried to read a few, but realized they were pretty 

advanced for me.

      I used the literature text to store my movie star pictures I cut from magazines 

and catalogued according to importance and then placed them between the pages. 

Viola, my first scrap book. My star pictures were of Bing Crosby, Gloria DeHaven, 

Peter Lawford, Betty Grabel, Clark Gabel, Mona Freeman, Lois Butler, Bill Holden, 

Joan Crawford, Dick Haymes, and Van Heflin. The names are barely visible, written 

on the blank pages in front. They are barely familiar, as well.

     I’ve kept the book since the third grade and now it sits on a shelf with 

hundreds of others. Over time, the pictures slipped out and were lost.

     The  old book was  published in 1933 and I have finally read my favorite stories. 

They include" A Ballad Rime Ancient Mariner,"  'Annabel Lee", and "The Finding of 

Livingston". When picking up the faded blue book in more recent times, I’ve

started the old legend, "Treasure Island," savoring each word. I was intrigued

 by "Gone With the Wind" a year later,   when I moved in with my aunty and 

cousin. I didn’t read it.  However, my cousin Helen, who was my age, read 

it for thirty minutes every day, while indulging in her morning constitution.  

We were only in the fourth grade and she was a better reader than I.

    

     I inherited this same book my great aunts, Aunt Mary and Aunt Opal said, 

after they read it, vividly described Atlanta,   as their grandmother, who was  

my great, great grandmother,  described to them. 

     She told of the horrors that she had seen and experienced during and after 

the Civil War. They were little girls when Grandmother Cornelia talked often 

of that time. But, they were so impressed they could  remember some of her 

stories.  They said she spent much of her time reading the big family Bible. 

She talked about the War and the Bible many times.

     Grandmother Cornelia’s home was on a plantation outside Athens, near 

Atlanta, Georgia. Her father owned numerous farms and plantations around 

the state. But after The War Between the States, as she called it, their property 

was pretty much left in shambles and much of their wealth was gone.

      The men in the family had been gone most of the time. When they returned, 

after the War, their Confederate money was worthless. But they struggled through 

their situation  for several years.

     Some slaves stayed on the plantation after the War and Grandmother

Cornelia taught the ex-slaves’ children  to read.

      Later, after her second cousin, Captain Albert Baird returned from 

the War, they married. My mother said there were not many men around because

 of the high fatality rate of the War. After Grandmother Cornelia’s parents died,

she and Grandfather Baird traveled by covered wagon, with some of the ex-slaves, to

 Hope,  Arkansas,  to  Grandfather Baird’s family. Grandfather Baird

 bought a  mercantile store in Hope and a farm, outside of the city.

     The Civil War was a constant memory in my mother’s family. At least two 

generations talked of it often. Only remnants of the family stories, pertaining

 to the Civil War,   remain today. Mother remembered only a few.  And I

vaguely remember the stories mother told.

     It’s like trying to hang onto a very old quilt that was used often to keep us 

warm.  Over the years it became worn,  frayed, and tattered. Now, I’m

clutching a threadbare quilt that is hardly recognizable as the same quilt that  

brought comfort to those who held it.

     Over the years, the old book I inherited, “Gone With the Wind”, barely 

holds together. It is similar to the quilt. The binding came apart and the pages 

hang loose from its binding. I decided to salvage it. I taped the binding so the

pages would stay together as I now read it.

      The old book that I’m holding together, literally with duck tape, was published

 in 1938.  And similar to my first movie star scrap book that held pictures of my

 favorite stars,  it too has pictures of Clark Gable and Vivian Lee, who starred in

the movie, so long ago.

     Now, I will hold the book so carefully. And while reading it, I will reflect  on the 

stories my family told of that important time in our family’s  history. I know

 I’ll never catch up on the important books that I missed,  beginning when I was

 young. And I know there was “too little too early",  but I will try to make up for it.

   

      

 

                                             D-DAY SURVIVOR

                  REUBEN, THE TOUGH HOMBRE, OF THE 90TH DIVISION

The first hint that Reuben, my father, was a "Tough Hombre" was seen in his role as a survivor from the sinking USS Susan B. Anthony, the day after D- Day, on June 7th, 1944,  during World War II.  The ship on which he rode to the shores of Omaha Beach near Normandy, France,  the USS Susan B. Anthony, won world recognition for having no fatalities when it sank close to the beach.  All 2,689 survived. In fact, The Guinness Book of Records documented it as breaking all kinds of records since it had the largest number rescued without loss of life. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Susan_B._Anthony_(AP-72).  Reuben was one, who escaped the burning ship and went ashore with no weapons. He was a tough Hombre. Reuben was also a member of the 90th Division in World War II and moreover, it was properly nicknamed, the Division of Tough Hombres.

"T O" was the original name given to the 90th division because it was made up of men from Texas
and Oklahoma. During World War I there were many dangerous missions and consequently many losses. During World War II the reputation of bravery followed the 90th Division so much so, the famous General George Patton nicknamed them "Tough Hombres."


After my father, Reuben Koether, arrived on Omaha Beach, he survived long enough to move inland, but I don't know where he went exactly or how long he remained in France. I don't think it was long. Eventually, he was hit by shrapnel that punctured one lung and shattered it. Later, he was sent to England to a hospital that was set up for the injuries of the June 6th D- Day and the battles that followed. He told us the story about his being triaged and left at the end of a hall in an old British hospital to be treated after the less serious were first treated. He said he waited for days and days before they finally operated on him. The main provisions given to the injured were GI cigarettes. They depressed their appetites and their state of boredom. At last, Reuben was operated on and most of his damaged right lung was removed. After convalescing for months in the hospital, he was then sent home to the United States with one lung intact and only a piece of the other.  He was a tough Hombre.

                                       D-DAY HOSPITAL, THE NETLEY HOSPITAL

The old British hospital, the Netley, was declared a military hospital during World War II. It provided care for the patients connected with the D-Day operations. It has an interesting history but was not a positive memory for Reuben. http://www.qaranc.co.uk/netleyhospital.php However, he persevered because he was a Tough Hombre.

Reuben returned to his home after his long convalescence in the old British hospital. He returned to his work as a civil engineer and was a city manager in Yoakum, Texas for 24 years. During that time, he developed a city park with a swimming pool, golf course, and eventually an airport on the north side of the city, all for his love of Yoakum.

When Reuben was in his 60s he retired from the city to his surveying as a full-time job. Then he died in 1980 from lung cancer. It was probably connected with many years of smoking. The smoking of cigarettes was what he had been taught to exist on while doing his duty in the army.  And the shattered other lung, as a result of war injuries, was no use to him.  For several years before his death, while living with cancer, Reuben kept working in the south Texas heat, surveying and working cattle on his family ranch.  During this time he also applied for 100% VA disability from his military injuries because he had always felt that he deserved more than the VA gave him, which was only partial disability, rather than 100% disability. However, he was never able to convince the Veterans Administration that he was entitled to more disability because of his war experience. The VA always answered that his present health problem with cancer was "not connected" to his wartime injury because it was his other lung that had been ripped apart in France, not his cancerous lung.  In Reuben's heart, he knew it was related to his injury so he applied over and over and each time was rejected.

While dying in the hospital in Victoria, Texas, an attending doctor injected a medication into a hole that they had drilled in his back. When he asked the nurse what they had administered in the hole, she told him it was mustard gas. Of all the years I had known him, I never saw him so upset. He immediately associated the mustard gas with what he knew about the two world wars. And of course, it was terrifying to him. He asked, "Why?" I told him I would find out. That evening I called the doctor at his residence and asked him. He answered, "Don't worry about it. I'm the doctor and I'm in charge." Needless to say, this made me very angry. I had seen enough of Phil Donahue shows which were similar to the later Oprah Winfrey shows that appeared years later on TV. They were famous for exposing the idea that doctors were not gods. And that patients had rights. Reuben seemed to give up after that experience and died about a week later. He had been tough, but cancer won the final battle.

I promised my mother that I would try to help her receive the VA benefits that were rejected. I asked for the paper on which I needed to write a summary of why Reuben's World War II injury and his present cancer were service-related. I learned to write summaries and abstracts at UT. So, I proceeded to write in as few words as I could in the small amount of space provided. I simply stated that had Reuben not lost his one lung while serving his country in the war, he more than likely would have been able to depend upon that lung to serve him when cancer took away the other lung. We had his home doctor sign it and alas it finally was approved. I know that PaPa Reuben was happy and smiled down from Heaven when that occurred.

Reuben was indeed a  Tough Hombre and I'm glad his government finally recognized his valor in fighting the Nazis on the shores of Normandy.

SYSTEMIC RACISM WITH PROFESSOR JOE FEAGIN

I was fortunate to study with Professor Joe Feagin at The University of Texas who developed a 

theory on Systemic Racism (https://www.thoughtco.com/systemic-racism-3026565.

 

Feagin is the top specialist in his field, winning numerous awards and prestigious positions. 

 In his book, Systemic Racism: A Theory of Oppression (2006),  

https://www.routledge.com/Systemic-Racism-A-Theory-of-Oppression-1st-Edition/Feagin/p/book/9780415952781?gclid=CjwKCAjw_qb3BRAVEiwAvwq6Vp_QAmC9gfweMsPJem_-UGkAtXjf8-0Ed_CPDBcdPVskrO0P240pXhoCur0QAvD_BwE

 

Feagin demonstrates systemic racism encompasses a broad range of racialized dimensions of

this society: the racist framing, racist ideology, stereotyping, attitudes, racist emotions, discriminating habits and actions, and extensive racist institutions developed over centuries by whites. 

I highly recommend Joe Feagin's  books to everyone, especially those who work with law and social justice.

 

D-DAY SURVIVOR REUBEN, THE TOUGH HOMBRE

                                             D-DAY SURVIVOR

                  REUBEN, THE TOUGH HOMBRE, OF THE 90TH DIVISION

The first hint that Reuben was a "Tough Hombre" was seen in his role as a survivor from the sinking USS Susan B. Anthony, the day after D- Day, on June 7th, 1944,  during World War II.  The ship on which he rode to the shores of Omaha Beach near Normandy, France,  the USS Susan B. Anthony, won world recognition for having no fatalities when it sank close to the beach.  All 2,689 survived. In fact, The Guinness Book of Records documented it as breaking all kinds of records since it had the largest number rescued without loss of life. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Susan_B._Anthony_(AP-72).  Reuben was one who escaped the burning ship and went ashore with no weapons. He was a tough Hombre. Reuben was also a member of the 90th Division in World War II and moreover, it was properly nicknamed, the Division of Tough Hombres.

"T O" was the original name given to the 90th division because it was made up of men from Texas
and Oklahoma. During World War I there were many dangerous missions and consequently many losses. During World War II the reputation of bravery followed the 90th Division so much so, the famous General George Patton nicknamed them "Tough Hombres."


After my father, Reuben Koether, arrived on Omaha Beach, he survived long enough to move inland, but I don't know where he went exactly or how long he remained in France. I don't think it was long. Eventually, he was hit by shrapnel that punctured one lung and shattered it. Later, he was sent to England to a hospital that was set up for the injuries of the June 6th D- Day and the battles that followed. He told us the story about his being triaged and left at the end of a hall in an old British hospital to be treated after the less serious were first treated. He said he waited for days and days before they finally operated on him. The main provisions given to the injured were GI cigarettes. They depressed their appetites and their state of boredom. At last, Reuben was operated on and most of his damaged right lung was removed. After convalescing for months in the hospital, he was then sent home to the United States with one lung intact and only a piece of the other.  He was a tough Hombre.

                                       D-DAY HOSPITAL, THE NETLEY HOSPITAL

The old British hospital, the Netley, was declared a military hospital during World War II. It provided care for the patients connected with the D-Day operations. It has an interesting history but was not a positive memory for Reuben. http://www.qaranc.co.uk/netleyhospital.php However, he persevered because he was a Tough Hombre.

Reuben returned to his home after his long convalescence in the old British hospital. He returned to his work as a civil engineer and was a city manager in Yoakum, Texas for 24 years. During that time, he developed a city park with a swimming pool, golf course, and eventually an airport on the north side of the city, all for his love of Yoakum.

When Reuben was in his 60s he retired from the city to his surveying as a full-time job. Then he died in 1980 from lung cancer. It was probably connected with many years of smoking. The smoking of cigarettes was what he had been taught to exist on while doing his duty in the army.  And the shattered other lung, as a result of war injuries, was no use to him.  For several years before his death, while living with cancer, Reuben kept working in the south Texas heat, surveying and working cattle on his family ranch.  During this time he also applied for 100% VA disability from his military injuries because he had always felt that he deserved more than the VA gave him, which was only partial disability, rather than 100% disability. However, he was never able to convince the Veterans Administration that he was entitled to more disability because of his war experience. The VA always answered that his present health problem with cancer was "not connected" to his wartime injury because it was his other lung that had been ripped apart in France, not his cancerous lung.  In Reuben's heart, he knew it was related to his injury so he applied over and over and each time was rejected.

While dying in the hospital in Victoria, Texas, an attending doctor injected a medication into a hole that they had drilled in his back. When he asked the nurse what they had administered in the hole, she told him it was mustard gas. Of all the years I had known him, I never saw him so upset. He immediately associated the mustard gas with what he knew about the two world wars. And of course, it was terrifying to him. He asked, "Why?" I told him I would find out. That evening I called the doctor at his residence and asked him. He answered, "Don't worry about it. I'm the doctor and I'm in charge." Needless to say, this made me very angry. I had seen enough of Phil Donahue shows which were similar to the later Oprah Winfrey shows that appeared years later on TV. They were famous for exposing the idea that doctors were not gods. And that patients had rights. Reuben seemed to give up after that experience and died about a week later. He had been tough, but cancer won the final battle.

I promised my mother that I would try to help her receive the VA benefits that were rejected. I asked for the paper on which I needed to write a summary of why Reuben's World War II injury and his present cancer were service-related. I learned to write summaries and abstracts at UT. So, I proceeded to write in as few words as I could in the small amount of space provided. I simply stated that had Reuben not lost his one lung while serving his country in the war, he more than likely would have been able to depend upon that lung to serve him when cancer took away the other lung. We had his home doctor sign it and alas it finally was approved. I know that PaPa Reuben was happy and smiled down from Heaven when that occurred.

Reuben was indeed a  Tough Hombre and I'm glad his government finally recognized his valor in fighting the Nazis on the shores of Normandy.

GRANDPARENTS' NIGHTMARE

https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g56640-d7677978-Reviews-The_Garden_Company-Schulenburg_Texas.html

                                               
It was a beautiful morning for a drive to a neighboring country town for lunch. We enjoy a
change of pace and dining at an interesting restaurant in Schulenburg. I didn't see any clouds in the sky and the sun shone brightly. I was enjoying our stereo music from our fairly new car as we drove up the highway. When we drove near the first business in the town of our destination, our cell phone suddenly rang.

I answered the ring and suspected a marketing call. We were receiving many of those that
week. At the other end of the call, there was a garbled message I could not understand. I thought I would play along with the marketer from the other end of the world.

"What?" I hollered back into my phone.  He repeated the garbling and I answered, "I can't understand you." For some reason, I thought it could be Sterling, our grandson. Maybe his grandfather had told him we were leaving town. I then said, "Is this Sterling?" The response was again in a garbled voice,  hardly in an understandable voice, "Yes, I've been in a car wreck and the airbag went off and it busted my lip and broke my nose. I can hardly talk."  I said, "Oh my God, are you okay? What happened?"

This had happened to him in Houston, three years before. I started to say, "Again?" But I didn't.

"Well, I can't talk well. You remember my friend, John, who had cancer?  He died and I went to his mother's house to pay my respect. I only had two drinks. Then on the way home, a woman in front of me ran a red light and I ran into her. The police made me take a breathalyzer test and I was only one point over the test line so they jailed me. I now need help getting out of jail."

Our grandson borrowed our extra car the last time he visited us. He left his older car because there was smoke billowing out the tailpipe. We were going to fix it. His grandfather worried all week that something might happen to his nice extra car. I turned to his grandfather and said, "Pull over into that parking lot, your worst fear just happened."

Sterling said, "Do you have a pencil and paper? I need to give you my case number and the name of my court-appointed lawyer. They said I was probably distracted on my cell phone, so they took it away from me. Now here is my case number, case: 64273775 AP. My lawyer's name is Mark Bailey and his number is 339-220-1001." I read back all the information I had written down. Sterling said, "Expect a call from the lawyer and he'll tell you what to do. Please don't tell anyone about this."

We were parked in the first drive we had come up to and it was only a few minutes before our cell phone rang.  Grandfather behind the wheel decided he better talk now. "Yes, this is Sterling's grandfather, what happened?"

The caller identified himself as Sterling's court-appointed lawyer, Mark Bailey, and said Sterling is in a lot of trouble.  He said Sterling failed the breathalyzer test and the car he hit broad-sided had a pregnant woman driver. This is really serious, the lawyer told him and that he had worked hard to scale down the cost to bail him out. They took Sterling's phone because they believed he was using it at the time of the wreck.

 Sterling's grandfather said, "That much?'

"Yes, and I worked hard to get it reduced since it was his first drunk driving offense." said the lawyer.

When he hung up I asked, "What does he want?'
     
"I knew it, I knew it. It's going to cost us a lot of money before this is over. He said I should get a cashier's check for $9500. And place it in a 9x15 padded envelope. And he would call us back in a short time and tell us what to do and where to mail it."

I could see the grandfather was visibly shaken and that one of us had to stay calm and think logically. I told myself and then him that this doesn't sound right. I needed to call son, Bryan, who was on the way to Houston.

The grandfather said, "They told us not to tell anyone."

" I don't care. No one should tell me what I can do. It's our grandson."

After relaying the story to my son in an almost hysterical voice while he was trying to find a parking place in a lot at a lawyers' office in Houston, he called me back on his cell phone. He said this had happened to a friend of his in Austin and it cost his family much money and his friend spent time in prison.

I thought, "Oh great, this is getting really bad."  Next, I thought I needed some reassurance that this story was real. I was obviously not getting anywhere, by then.  I picked up my cell phone and said, "I'm calling Sterling on his cell."

The grand-father said, "Remember, they said he didn't have his phone."

I answered that this sounded fishy to me. I knew it was a gamble, but we could maybe find out for sure what's going on. Sometimes Sterling doesn't pick up his phone because he works late hours and likes to sleep late.

I dialed his number and after two short rings, a voice answered. "Sterling, are you okay? Where are you?" I asked.

 "Nana?  Yes, I'm okay and I'm home. What's wrong?"

I proceeded to tell him what had happened. He started laughing and laughing. And said, "Nana, you got scammed."

"Oh, I'm so thankful you are okay and we don't have to empty our bank account. Here, talk to your grandfather so he knows you are okay." I next called my son back and told him what I found out. He said he started to tell me to leave him in jail because that was too much money.

 Next, we pulled up to The Garden Company-Schulenburg, Texas. We went in and ordered the day's special: wonderful snapper fish with shrimp sauce, wild rice, and green beans.  It was fabulous and a nice way to celebrate our escape from being scammed.

BIG LESSON: WOMEN, TRUST YOUR INTUITION. AND BEWARE OF SCAMS.

 

I SAW THEM TOGETHER IN BED

He's good looking, I know. But there are no excuses for this. He had just told me he was trying to get rid of her kind that morning. But there they were, he almost asleep for his afternoon nap and she curled up on the same pillow next to him. She was a brunette or redhead. I could not tell which. She looked comfortably sleeping and he lay there almost asleep with a smile on his face, as the afternoon sun shone brightly through the window. I couldn't believe I saw them together in bed, in broad daylight.

I wanted to kill her. But how? I had no weapon that was handy and I had to act fast. As he opened his eyes, he said, "Come join me for a nap." I thought to myself that I would not risk this kind of needless pain.

I knew we had to kill her, but it had to be done very quickly before she made an attempt to escape. I said, "Now don't move too fast. But you have to do it slowly and not make any noise. We don't want to startle her so that she might flee and disappear. She might prey upon some other innocent victim."

He did as I instructed. He slowly rose from the bed and then looked down as he gradually picked up the pillow, as she lay in an embryo position.

"How are you going to kill her?" I asked.

"Very carefully," he answered, as he grabbed his gimmy hat, sitting on a chair, next to the bed. He then proceeded to smash her to bits with his fingers, wrapped around the inside of his cap.

"I sprayed all around the house this morning. I can't believe I chased her inside where she decided to take a nap beside me on my pillow."

I answered, "As allergic as you seemed to be when the last scorpion bit you on the hand, I would hate to see the damage this scorpion would have done to your face."

"Thanks for alerting me."

A Deja vu Sighting At An Historical Church in the Country

                       A Deja vu Sighting At An Historical Church in the Country



We had an interesting drive through the country today. We had an unplanned visit to a couple of painted churches in central Texas, built in the nineteenth century. One was at High Hill, outside of Schulenburg, Texas. The church from the outside "does not clue you in on what is in the inside". http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/st-marys-church-high-hill-schulenburg?select=rg3nPfMmnBl1ddqyTqQZ_A It has hand painted art all over the walls and ceiling, hence, to which all the painted churches in Fayette county are referred. The alter, cabinets, and wood work are beautifully carved and constructed at the St. Mary's Church at High Hill. http://www.texasescapes.com/CentralTexasTownsSouth/HighHillTexas/High-Hill-Texas-St-Marys-Catholic-Church.htm

The churches were created by 19th century immigrants from Austria and Germany. But the art is said to have been painted by itinerant artists later around the turn of the century, who advertised in the San Antonio paper.  The other beautifully painted church, St. Mary of the Assumption, we visited is at Praha, outside of Flatonia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Mary%27s_Church_of_the_Assumption_(Praha,_Texas)

 It was Deja vu when I spotted a rock grotto, https://www.tripadvisor.co.il/LocationPhotoDirectLink-g56640-d2460464-i141062937-Painted_Churches_Tour-Schulenburg_Texas.html,  https://www.tripadvisor.co.il/LocationPhotoDirectLink-g56640-on the grounds, outside the Praha church.  St. Mary of  the Assumption's rock grotto that's on the left of the church in front, is a replica of one I sketched out on my canvass, to paint next. The grotto, I'm going to paint is to be next to the sketch of the oldest church in U.S.,San Miguel. It's in Taos, New Mexico, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ecKXVHwkFJs The grotto outside the painted church is positioned in the same place, as the one in my sketch. I was just trying to fill in some space(an artist privilege) on my canvass. It was spooky because I had never seen it or planned it that way. I use the image of San Miguel church to fit my Hispanic southwest themes. The Taos church will serve as a background to other images in my painting. I am most attracted to the Spanish Colonial history and its art.

 Now, I'm beginning to think I better paint another picture of the church at Praha to have an authentic image of the Grotto and what I saw today. I don't want to get into trouble with any ghosts who may have been hanging around the Grottos that I saw today.  And I'm looking forward to visiting the other painted churches in Fayette County on other day trips. http://www.texasescapes.com/CentralTexasTownsSouth/PaintedChurchesTour.htm

Yes, it was a beautiful day.