Life can be peaceful in rural Missouri

Yesterday I sat on the front porch of a little house in the historic town of Leopold, Missouri. The air smelled like summer turning to fall, and the birds were singing, the sun was shining. It was a peaceful moment.
I was in Leopold to put the lockbox on a little house that I am selling there as a Realtor, and doing a few things to help the seller have the house ready to sell.

As I sat on the front step, I thought about what it would be like to live there. My dog, Cleo, was with me, and she was making friends with the neighbor's male daschund. The two of them were sniffing each other and jumping all over the front yard. She was enjoying being with a dog her own size, instead of the 80 pound brother she has at home.
 
The 1.4 acres of land was mowed and smelled sweet. I thought, I could be here, live here, feel at peace here. There is a historic church just down the road built in the late 1800's. I can see its spire from my spot on the front porch; it is lovely and I want to tour the inside of it. The schools here have won awards. There is a small general store that looks like it tries to meet the needs of its community.
 
I am sure that I could get to know people here easily, and I already have one friend that lives here. It felt a little like going back in time, when we were not so concerned about the digital age,(even though I checked and my cell phone did have great coverage there on the porch). And it made me think of all the places in the world to which I have travelled, where the focus is on taking life easier, going slower, and developing relationships instead of just getting business done.
 
History Lesson: In 1856, Reverend John van Luytelaar established Vinemount, Missouri when he and 12 other families went looking for farm land. These families traveled down the Ohio River and up the Mississippi River by boat to Cape Girardeau and then found the community of Vinemount. Other families followed them and the community was starting to unfold. Some of these families were unable to make the pioneer life and left back for Cincinnati after two years of living here. In 1894 the first post office was built to serve the town of Vinemount. In the process of building the post office, they realized there was already a post office in Missouri by the name of Vinemount. This was when a name change was in order. The people then decided on the name of "Leopolis" (City of Leo), in honor of the Pope. This name was rejected and the present name, Leopold, was then proposed and accepted.

Interesting Facts: St. John’s Catholic Church, located on Main Street in Leopold, was built in 1899. Work began in the spring and the church was built in pure Gothic style from native limestone found around and near the town. Parishioners of St. John’s did most of the work on the church themselves. In May 1944, the Shrine of Our Lady Queen of Peace was dedicated to the members of the parish who were serving in the armed forces. Children of the community were asked to find the stones used to construct the shrine. After the shrine was built, evening Rosaries were said for those serving in the armed forces. The prayers for the safe return of the service men and women have worked, for not one member of the armed forces who lives in the Leopold parish has failed to return home alive.

Sometimes, it is meaningful to take a moment and appreciate the history of a place. I wonder why life was so hard for some of those early families that made them return home to Cincinnati and I could imagine the pioneers working hard on the land, creating farms for food and commerce. I wonder what the families that stayed saw when they looked around their new community, and how they conceived of building a limestone Gothic church in this remote newly adopted home.

Check out my listing on www.homesbyreno.com or www.semohousehunter.com or www.houseviewonline.com
Maybe you will find the same peaceful experience I did.




 
 

39 years is a long time....to be married.

Waiting for Spring?

Yes, I know it is June. In fact I was reminded of that Saturday as my husband and I celebrated 39 years of marriage on the first day of June. 

 

Our day together was not fireworks and big presents; in fact it was a calm day with lunch at the new Casino's buffet and time at the library, also at the bookstore where we bought each other a new journal with a gift certificate that had been given to us at Christmas. We watched Atlas Shrugged Part One again, and Part Two for the first time. We are both fans of Ayn Rand's books, and often read the same books and discuss them. The day had a zen-like quality and except for the DVD player breaking down, it was very peaceful. 

 

Thirty-nine years is a long time to be married to the same person, especially in this day and age as I understand statistics. Herb and I met in our senior year of high school, both 17, already set in our faith and in our political leanings. He had (and still has) a confident walk and sexy eyes, a straight forward way of talking and I knew immediately I could trust him. We met at a church youth group event and I kicked him for teasing me before the evening was over. Two years later we were married, he had just turned 20 two weeks before, and I was still 19. We have lasted through very humble beginnings to still humble present day, two children, seven grandchildren (four of them adopted - from Africa, but that is a whole 'nother story), 17 different homes, 3 countries, and 3 states and 3 provinces. 

 

I recognize that not everyone has the same experience that I have had. I understand that some people chose wrong in the past, and are now single for a variety of different reasons. However, I also recognize that I do not need to apologize for having a good relationship with a man who is slightly chauvinistic (I told him in 1992 that he was a man of the '90s but that it was the 1890's), who knows that I can cook better than his mother ever did, and who is organized with his date book but horrible with any other paperwork.  He is a whole lot better about being on the road alone than being home alone when I am gone. He thinks that hair on a woman can never be long enough (the one thing we often disagree on) and he rides motorcycle better than almost anyone else. He is a good man, who wants to do the right thing. 

 

It seems only yesterday that I came home from the hairdresser on a Saturday late morning  in June 1974. Two hours later I was walking up the aisle on my father's arm and joining my life to the man of my choice. My dress was sweet and simple. The food was good at the reception, mostly the work of my mother, aunts, and women of the church. The band was terrible and we asked them to stop before they were done their first set - the lead singer was an old boyfriend, and I knew there was a reason I dumped him. At the end of the event I was tired of pictures and ready to ride off into the sunset.

Now almost four decades later, we love each other more than we did two decades ago. We understand each other better, and we are willing to stick together through thick and thin, rich and poor, health and sickness, because we know that we are better together than we are apart.  If I am in a room of sixty people, and my husband catches my eye across the room and winks at me, my heart still skips a beat. This is the man who held my head over the porcelain throne last year when I had the flu so bad that I wanted to die, and was afraid I wouldn't. This is the man who hugs me like there is no tomorrow and my throat lumps up with his energy. We have produced two children who amaze me with their strength, their smarts and their sweetness. 

The older I get, the more I see that life is seasonal, but that the seasons can be in "shuffle mode". I am not heading into the "fall" of my life.....I think I already had that season. I think it is Spring, and I know there is still lots of hard work ahead, but that summer is around the corner in my life, and some lazy days on the deck with a glass of sweet tea sounds really good.