After all the gardening yesterday, today the MS has decided to flare up which means I’m nauseous, dizzy, and I don’t have any energy,  Not a good day but I’ve said it before, the only predictable thing about MS is it is unpredictable so…you learn to take it a day at a time and try not to stress over it too much.

Since I’m pretty much out for the count this morning, I decided to take this opportunity to do some updates to the book my sister and I are writing together, Whistling Woman, about our great aunt’s life growing up in Hot Springs.  I got the Word files updated and even went through the phsyical file which has some of the articles, contact people, and notes we’ve been keeping.  While I was doing that, I ran across copies of some articles Aunt Bessie wrote for some of the local newspapers in North Carolina.  Our dad had given them to us the last time we were in Florida and when I got home I tucked them in the file and then forgot about them.  Sheesh!

Anyway, in one of them, Aunt Bessie writes about an experience she had while teaching in a one-room school-house and it made me smile, so I thought I’d include it in today’s blog entry (number four of five in this week’s Writing Challenge):

Pathos:  Touches the heart.

It was a cold winter day, and the scholars in a little log school house, deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains, were taking time about warming at the big rock-chimney fire, when one of the boys, sitting on an upturned stick of wood—seemingly taking more time than his share—was reprimanded by the teacher.

“No, Miss Bessie,” the child said, “I ain’t a warmin’, I’m a studyin’ my lesson by this good light.”

When I, the teacher looked, I saw a pale shaft of winter sun lying across the boy’s book…the sun light came through a crack between two logs.

My heart refused to let my brain think that Jimmy for a selfish reason had removed the chinking from between the logs.

Aunt Bessie taught for many years in a number of one-room schoolhouses and this is just one of the many wonderful stories she told.  I love reading her words and knowing her thoughts.  Somehow, even though she’s been dead for a long time, it brings me closer to her.

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