Three brothers, Leonard, Talmedge, Robert 
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What a happy mother and family the night
Uncle Leonard was there, with his wife. >>
The new Mom could not wait to put her new
Johnnie, Dad and Mum on Falls porch>>
Dad with his sister, Phyllis and her husband. Bob.
Not too often, but occasionally, I pause for a moment at the
top of the hill leading to beautiful Jones Hill Cemetery, where
my husband is buried. It is always quite and peaceful. I am
sure that "lovely" is also the right word, although it seems an
odd term for the place so closely associated with the sadness
of death. Beyond the entrance, a pebble path leads around
the back of the cemetery to five small pebble paths leading
through the stones. Usually I find one just right to park beside
the gravestones of my precious mate of 63 years and also the
gravestone of my daughter, Betty. While some of the graves
are remembered with bunches of flowers, I notice one grave is
always permanently covered with heather, and another has its
own blanket of deep purple petunias and white snap-dragons.
As I examine this grave I find it is the grave of a young 16 year
old boy, killed in a car accident. He was a Watertown Purple
Tiger. I think about his parents...........Gone at 16...........I had my
daughter until she was 56. I find Leonard's mother, father, aunt,
uncle, his brother-in-law and Betty Patton Willard on those
stones in our section. I find my name on his stone, my son-in-
law on Betty's, my sister-in-law on her husbands stone.
I don't stay long, change the flowers, express my love, and
start back down that hill. I never visit there without thinking
of the final moment that Leonard slipped into the presence
of the Lord. What an odd moment, almost like an out of body
experience. I did not know then but I know now I was meant
to have the experience of almost literally seeing him being
lifted from that bed and ascending into heaven. Our names
are there, however that is not where we will rest content,
but in the shadow of his sheltering wings, where there will be
no remberance of things past-----only sublime loveliness
forever and ever. The 8th will mark the second anniversary
of his death, it seems like yesterday. In his life was hope,
beauty and loveliness- - - - -WAP
We are caught up in well-worn, comfy traditions. I ask that the Lord keep them worthy, like a deer path through the forest.They lead us forward then back again. The traditions came from what the British would call the commoners. Both the Pattons and Floyds were from an ordinary world of traditions, so good that we seem to take that path like the deer, back to where we came from. What a decent and lovely heritage we proclaim. My foremost thanks this holiday and every day is thankfullness for that heritage.We rejoice today in friendships, fellowships, acquaintances, parties, and get-togethers of every kind. We gather around this feasting table, humbled by our bounty, of our abundant life. We have so much more than we need. As we poise with fork in hand, ready to overdo, may we learn better how to live as grateful, if overstuffed, children, delighted, surprised, and generous with the sharing of our good fortune. I ask the Lord to help me to share in that abundance, with others less fortunate than we, and may someone, someday,somewhere say I am thankful to have known this person.We are such a part of the past, think of those beautiful tables laid with bounty on Richland Ave. and the wonderful meals always prepared with love on the wonderful Patton farm on Patton Hollow Road. Than take a look at the angel helping in the kitchen right here at 600.May God bless us all abundantly.
The family, Brad with his goat project, Sally giving helping hand
