It's a cool, windy, sometimes rainy, gloomy, dark, grey day after a windy, cold, rainy, thunderous, snuggly and fall night....
I'm going to claim I didn't sleep well. I was afraid that our new bird feeder would be swept off it's hook and we would wake up to a mess of bird seed and broken glass.
But, it's also dark and stormy.
And I have a belly full of thai food.
That should be enough to warrant a nap, yes?
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Wedding stuff
Yes. More wedding stuff. Tidbits just come back to me at odd times during random days.
Joel - my big brother - was very sweet in his big brother way during wedding weekend. But we'll start his story earlier in the year when he came up for Grandma's 90th birthday party while we were looking at old childhood photos when we were growing up. Some from way before I was born. I commented that it was weird to glimpse into a family before I was a part of it. I had only known one family while Joel got to experience the entire family growth process in all its stages. First he had a brother, then he had a sister. He commented that he didn't really remember Jason's birth, but he very clearly remembered when I came home and how cool it was watching me grow up as a kid. (insert "awe" here)
During the family/Sunday/post-wedding/Father's Day/birthday brunch, he made some mental notes. While my brothers and I each got married in a different month and year (October 2002, November 2005 and June 2010) we all got married one week apart. The 5th, the 12th and the 19th. He also mentioned we all got married at the same age, although I just barely made it at 6 hours before my birthday.
But the thing I recall most from time to time was my dad. My dad and I, like a lot of fathers and daughters, have a very special and close bond. I know he was happy for me and my marriage, and I knew there would be emotion in him on my wedding day, but I was not prepared for how much. And I was not prepared for him to display it. He kept himself together well, considering. I even told him as much.
I said "You're doing very well, you know." He replied "No, I'm not. I'm barely keeping it together. I had to leave the room during that damn 'I Loved Her First' song."
I knew it was going to be OK. He knew it was going to be OK. But we were both startled by the process of it being OK. He literally let me go and I walked away. It was a poignant moment that lasted all evening, culminating in his toast to us.
I discussed the toast with my SIL (Joel's wife) and while most people were paying attention to Dad, or looking at my reaction to Dad, Jennifer was looking at Joel. Joel was looking at his daughter Shea. He had watched me grow up, but didn't have to give me away like he would have to give her away. For they have a special dad and daughter bond too.
I just feel lucky to experience so much love. That's what I take away most from my wedding day was all the love in the room. It was such a great day! Although...I still can't figure out who requested "Gold Digger". It was funny, yes...but really? Honestly, I didn't mind it as much as I minded "The Chicken Dance"! I couldn't argue too much though as it was my niece who requested it.
At least everyone had fun.
:)
Joel - my big brother - was very sweet in his big brother way during wedding weekend. But we'll start his story earlier in the year when he came up for Grandma's 90th birthday party while we were looking at old childhood photos when we were growing up. Some from way before I was born. I commented that it was weird to glimpse into a family before I was a part of it. I had only known one family while Joel got to experience the entire family growth process in all its stages. First he had a brother, then he had a sister. He commented that he didn't really remember Jason's birth, but he very clearly remembered when I came home and how cool it was watching me grow up as a kid. (insert "awe" here)
During the family/Sunday/post-wedding/Father's Day/birthday brunch, he made some mental notes. While my brothers and I each got married in a different month and year (October 2002, November 2005 and June 2010) we all got married one week apart. The 5th, the 12th and the 19th. He also mentioned we all got married at the same age, although I just barely made it at 6 hours before my birthday.
But the thing I recall most from time to time was my dad. My dad and I, like a lot of fathers and daughters, have a very special and close bond. I know he was happy for me and my marriage, and I knew there would be emotion in him on my wedding day, but I was not prepared for how much. And I was not prepared for him to display it. He kept himself together well, considering. I even told him as much.
I said "You're doing very well, you know." He replied "No, I'm not. I'm barely keeping it together. I had to leave the room during that damn 'I Loved Her First' song."
I knew it was going to be OK. He knew it was going to be OK. But we were both startled by the process of it being OK. He literally let me go and I walked away. It was a poignant moment that lasted all evening, culminating in his toast to us.
I discussed the toast with my SIL (Joel's wife) and while most people were paying attention to Dad, or looking at my reaction to Dad, Jennifer was looking at Joel. Joel was looking at his daughter Shea. He had watched me grow up, but didn't have to give me away like he would have to give her away. For they have a special dad and daughter bond too.
I just feel lucky to experience so much love. That's what I take away most from my wedding day was all the love in the room. It was such a great day! Although...I still can't figure out who requested "Gold Digger". It was funny, yes...but really? Honestly, I didn't mind it as much as I minded "The Chicken Dance"! I couldn't argue too much though as it was my niece who requested it.
At least everyone had fun.
:)
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Oh the drama
So. On every post, and usually within every unit, there is an FRG.
Family Readiness Group.
FRG's are good things in theory. They support the family during deployments, although, more and more often are becoming more active in everyday life. To provide community and support and well-being to all.
With community comes drama. Not everyone will get along, and no one expects everyone to get along.
And then you just have annoying people. Unfortunately, the military does not discriminate against the annoying as it would be hard to determine based on individual biases.
But what is annoying to me is an unorganized group attempting to host events. Such as our very own FRG. We had extra planning meetings. We had maps. We lacked communication, shopping lists, orientation to detail, and overall competence.
In my opinion.
I had to giggle at myself this morning because I found this email in my inbox. From me to John.
"Do we have any rings with which to toss, like for a ring toss?"
That is literally all I wrote to him on my blackberry. My game station was a pumpkin ring toss. And no one thought to purchase or acquire rings. Or task me to do it. I checked the PX (Post Exchange = store on post. ours is tiny) for toy rings, or even rope so we could "lasso" the pumpkins. Nada. It was 5 minutes 'til starting time.
John ran home and made rings by cutting out the centers of three paper plates glued together. They still didn't work well, and the kids got bored when they learned they really couldn't win and walked away.
LAME.
There was MUCH more drama involved but this really isn't the place to gossip. I generally like the ladies (and gentleman) I worked with, I just did not enjoy working with all of them.
When I discuss these issues with more "seasoned" army wives, they almost all agree. All FRGs are like this at every post. I was never involved in John's FRG (when he was in command) because I was in Denver. He never even told me about the meetings because (I learn now) that he wanted to shield me from it. Not the FRG perse, but all the accompanying drama.
I'll probably still go to meetings (when I can) but I'm afraid I won't be able to participate any further in this one.
Family Readiness Group.
FRG's are good things in theory. They support the family during deployments, although, more and more often are becoming more active in everyday life. To provide community and support and well-being to all.
With community comes drama. Not everyone will get along, and no one expects everyone to get along.
And then you just have annoying people. Unfortunately, the military does not discriminate against the annoying as it would be hard to determine based on individual biases.
But what is annoying to me is an unorganized group attempting to host events. Such as our very own FRG. We had extra planning meetings. We had maps. We lacked communication, shopping lists, orientation to detail, and overall competence.
In my opinion.
I had to giggle at myself this morning because I found this email in my inbox. From me to John.
"Do we have any rings with which to toss, like for a ring toss?"
That is literally all I wrote to him on my blackberry. My game station was a pumpkin ring toss. And no one thought to purchase or acquire rings. Or task me to do it. I checked the PX (Post Exchange = store on post. ours is tiny) for toy rings, or even rope so we could "lasso" the pumpkins. Nada. It was 5 minutes 'til starting time.
John ran home and made rings by cutting out the centers of three paper plates glued together. They still didn't work well, and the kids got bored when they learned they really couldn't win and walked away.
LAME.
There was MUCH more drama involved but this really isn't the place to gossip. I generally like the ladies (and gentleman) I worked with, I just did not enjoy working with all of them.
When I discuss these issues with more "seasoned" army wives, they almost all agree. All FRGs are like this at every post. I was never involved in John's FRG (when he was in command) because I was in Denver. He never even told me about the meetings because (I learn now) that he wanted to shield me from it. Not the FRG perse, but all the accompanying drama.
I'll probably still go to meetings (when I can) but I'm afraid I won't be able to participate any further in this one.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Now for something completely different!
My ischial tuberosities hurt!!
After years of not riding my bike (it may have been well over 10) John and I went on a 6 mile historic tour put on by the Army Corp of Engineers. For us, since we biked to the visitor center and back, it was probably more like a 10 mile day. Which isn't bad on a bike.
It's just bad for your booty when it isn't used to sitting on a bike seat.
Ouch.
It was also a fun people watching exercise. This was a casual, open to all ages, slow going bike tour. And in our group (does there have to be one in every group?) was "that guy."
The guy who shows up in full out bike gear, with the shoes, and padded bike pants and bike jersey and know it all attitude. He was a douchbag. He was hilarious. (and no, he was not intending to be.)
He wanted to know if this was the second oldest house in the Quad Cities, or he wanted to be the guy who suggested they turn the Le Claire house into a museum, or he wanted to know inane details to prove how thoughtful and insightful he was. He had to be first, riding with the guide.
When the guide asked how the pace was, he says "When you hit 25 (mph?), I'll let you know." ("oooo, I'm so fast!")
An entertaining bit was when he had one shoe locked in his pedal and tried to get on the bike and ended up falling over, claiming (and cursing) that he got stuck in gravel. Okay, it did happen right in front of us, and yes, we asked him if he was okay, and helped him up. But there was no gravel around him. Mr. Expert Cyclist just misjudged something in his balance and fell over.
"That guy" also had to sit down at every stop because his fancy shoes hurt to stand in.
"That guy" also took his shoes off before the tour started (we ran a little late because not everyone was there and the bridge had opened, so we were waiting for people who had been delayed by the bridge), and was on his cell phone. Once we were ready to get started, the guide started talking and he shouts from the nearby bench to hang on a minute as he's still on the phone.
Douche. Bag.
However, there was also a very cute little old man who was familiar with post and the area and offered a great story about his father who had worked on the Arsenal during World War I. This was before they installed the Lock and Dam, so the river depth was shallow and rocky. He said the river would freeze over, and the workers could walk across the Mississippi to work at the Arsenal. He also said during dry summers, the water would be so low you could walk across it on the rocks jutting out!
Now, thanks to the Lock and Dam systems, they keep it at or above 9 ft deep. It keep the barge traffic happy.
Something else I learned was about our spinning bridge. Or as John says: "our bridge that frickin spins!"
There are many ways to allow boat traffic under low bridges.
Drawbridge, where the bridge divides in half (or not) and rises up.
The kind of bridge where an entire span of bridge rises high enough above the water.
And the kind that spins to allow traffic.
There may be other kinds. I'm not doing enough research on it. Mostly because I don't care and I don't need it to make my point. One thing, however, is that all of these methods impede the flow of traffic on the bridge to allow for traffic under the bridge.
Our bridge is special. It spins. It not only spins, but it can spin 360 degrees in both directions. Other spinning bridges can only go a certain number of degrees (some 90, some 180) and some can only open and close in one direction. (they open clockwise and close counter clockwise, but can't do the reverse)
This bridge is one of TWO in the whole WORLD! The other bridge like ours is in Germany.
Cool eh?
So I learned something today. That should be enough to soothe the ache of my booty.
After years of not riding my bike (it may have been well over 10) John and I went on a 6 mile historic tour put on by the Army Corp of Engineers. For us, since we biked to the visitor center and back, it was probably more like a 10 mile day. Which isn't bad on a bike.
It's just bad for your booty when it isn't used to sitting on a bike seat.
Ouch.
It was also a fun people watching exercise. This was a casual, open to all ages, slow going bike tour. And in our group (does there have to be one in every group?) was "that guy."
The guy who shows up in full out bike gear, with the shoes, and padded bike pants and bike jersey and know it all attitude. He was a douchbag. He was hilarious. (and no, he was not intending to be.)
He wanted to know if this was the second oldest house in the Quad Cities, or he wanted to be the guy who suggested they turn the Le Claire house into a museum, or he wanted to know inane details to prove how thoughtful and insightful he was. He had to be first, riding with the guide.
When the guide asked how the pace was, he says "When you hit 25 (mph?), I'll let you know." ("oooo, I'm so fast!")
An entertaining bit was when he had one shoe locked in his pedal and tried to get on the bike and ended up falling over, claiming (and cursing) that he got stuck in gravel. Okay, it did happen right in front of us, and yes, we asked him if he was okay, and helped him up. But there was no gravel around him. Mr. Expert Cyclist just misjudged something in his balance and fell over.
"That guy" also had to sit down at every stop because his fancy shoes hurt to stand in.
"That guy" also took his shoes off before the tour started (we ran a little late because not everyone was there and the bridge had opened, so we were waiting for people who had been delayed by the bridge), and was on his cell phone. Once we were ready to get started, the guide started talking and he shouts from the nearby bench to hang on a minute as he's still on the phone.
Douche. Bag.
However, there was also a very cute little old man who was familiar with post and the area and offered a great story about his father who had worked on the Arsenal during World War I. This was before they installed the Lock and Dam, so the river depth was shallow and rocky. He said the river would freeze over, and the workers could walk across the Mississippi to work at the Arsenal. He also said during dry summers, the water would be so low you could walk across it on the rocks jutting out!
Now, thanks to the Lock and Dam systems, they keep it at or above 9 ft deep. It keep the barge traffic happy.
Something else I learned was about our spinning bridge. Or as John says: "our bridge that frickin spins!"
There are many ways to allow boat traffic under low bridges.
Drawbridge, where the bridge divides in half (or not) and rises up.
 |
| These images are from a google image search. |
 |
| another google image gem. |
And the kind that spins to allow traffic.
 |
| Span closed |
 |
| Span open. These were taken by me with my cell phone while waiting for the span to close again. |
There may be other kinds. I'm not doing enough research on it. Mostly because I don't care and I don't need it to make my point. One thing, however, is that all of these methods impede the flow of traffic on the bridge to allow for traffic under the bridge.
Our bridge is special. It spins. It not only spins, but it can spin 360 degrees in both directions. Other spinning bridges can only go a certain number of degrees (some 90, some 180) and some can only open and close in one direction. (they open clockwise and close counter clockwise, but can't do the reverse)
This bridge is one of TWO in the whole WORLD! The other bridge like ours is in Germany.
Cool eh?
So I learned something today. That should be enough to soothe the ache of my booty.
Struggle struggle struggle breakthrough?
So, I believe things happen for a reason.
I also believe that when you are not in the know of the details that constitute this Universal reason, waiting around to discover it kind of sucks.
Ah, but it's all in the process, no?
So, I was chatting with a few friends. My bridesmaids, as a matter of fact, and quizzing them on what they think I would be well suited to do if I were to change careers.
You see, I've been frustrated. Owning my own practice was traumatizing and humbling, and, in some respects, a knock down on the 'ol self esteem pole. John has been a great support. He reminds me that success is defined in several ways and to remember all the people I helped and the lives I changed.
I helped a 5 week old baby regain her normal functions. Eating, sleeping and pooping. She was doing none of these things well, which turned her into a crying colicky baby. I adjusted her. She was happier. And so were her parents!
I brought a woman to tears after she realized that a) she could turn her head again and b) she didn't have to live in pain that she thought was a result of getting older. She hugged me so tightly, just so relieved to feel back to normal.
I helped a woman who had minor but irritating back pain get back into everything she loved nearly pain free...including camping and riding 4 wheelers.
I've helped people recover from car accidents.
I helped a lady manage (nearly eliminate until she went on meds for osteoporosis) her vertigo.
I helped an elderly woman be able to enjoy her daily walks again. She previously had stopped due to arthritis pain. When she saw me, the pain was lessened, and she wanted to walk again.
I helped a woman who had severe headaches that interfered with her life at least every other week be headache free for years.
I still get emails from patients who write that they miss me.
I'm not a bad doctor. I'm a good doctor in a quirky profession. I'm not going to air out my grievances that I've experienced being a chiropractor or a chiropractor in Colorado. (location does matter.) Without my knowledge that I acquired as a chiropractor, I would not have been able to do these things. And every profession has it's downside.
I just wanted to highlight this struggle I have encountered. Things were not as I imagined once I graduated, and for the first time in a long time, I have had to deal with failure. It's not something I do well. But what is a Doctor of Chiropractic to do if not be a chiropractor?
The most desirable thing (to me) is to teach. I'm not even sure how hard it would be to break into teaching at community colleges, but I'm looking into it. At some point, I would like to teach at a chiropractic college. The energy at a chiropractic college is amazing!
More importantly, once I started talking (okay, instant messaging) my girlfriends about what I should do with my life did the real heart of the matter rise to the surface. I was in tears, and thinking of practicing again made my heart hurt. There was an intense fear of further failure. I managed to salvage my practice in some way, but I was in no way successful if you look at it from the business perspective. So I wasn't really anxious about doing it again.
And that's the thing about identifying the mysterious obstacle. It ceases to be an obstacle. This feeling of fear was recognized and acknowledged and put down after months (years?) of carrying it around.
And things started to happen. I found a possible opportunity to practice again, and possibly in a way where I could practice within an establishment and have much of the hairy business details left to someone else. It's an opportunity I thought was not available, but things happened and they lined up differently.
It was like it was waiting for me to be ready for it.
Which I appreciate.
The other, completely zen like quality to this opportunity is that I have no attachment to it. It very well may not work out due to administration details. And that's okay.
I was mostly just shocked that I was looking forward to practicing again when a few months ago I wondered if I would ever practice again. Or, more importantly, ever want to practice again. Which is something I hadn't expected to feel until 20 years into my career. If then.
So, we shall see.
All this worry from me since I haven't worked in 4 1/2 months, and it turns out, I needed the time off.
Apparently it's all about perspective.
I also believe that when you are not in the know of the details that constitute this Universal reason, waiting around to discover it kind of sucks.
Ah, but it's all in the process, no?
So, I was chatting with a few friends. My bridesmaids, as a matter of fact, and quizzing them on what they think I would be well suited to do if I were to change careers.
You see, I've been frustrated. Owning my own practice was traumatizing and humbling, and, in some respects, a knock down on the 'ol self esteem pole. John has been a great support. He reminds me that success is defined in several ways and to remember all the people I helped and the lives I changed.
I helped a 5 week old baby regain her normal functions. Eating, sleeping and pooping. She was doing none of these things well, which turned her into a crying colicky baby. I adjusted her. She was happier. And so were her parents!
I brought a woman to tears after she realized that a) she could turn her head again and b) she didn't have to live in pain that she thought was a result of getting older. She hugged me so tightly, just so relieved to feel back to normal.
I helped a woman who had minor but irritating back pain get back into everything she loved nearly pain free...including camping and riding 4 wheelers.
I've helped people recover from car accidents.
I helped a lady manage (nearly eliminate until she went on meds for osteoporosis) her vertigo.
I helped an elderly woman be able to enjoy her daily walks again. She previously had stopped due to arthritis pain. When she saw me, the pain was lessened, and she wanted to walk again.
I helped a woman who had severe headaches that interfered with her life at least every other week be headache free for years.
I still get emails from patients who write that they miss me.
I'm not a bad doctor. I'm a good doctor in a quirky profession. I'm not going to air out my grievances that I've experienced being a chiropractor or a chiropractor in Colorado. (location does matter.) Without my knowledge that I acquired as a chiropractor, I would not have been able to do these things. And every profession has it's downside.
I just wanted to highlight this struggle I have encountered. Things were not as I imagined once I graduated, and for the first time in a long time, I have had to deal with failure. It's not something I do well. But what is a Doctor of Chiropractic to do if not be a chiropractor?
The most desirable thing (to me) is to teach. I'm not even sure how hard it would be to break into teaching at community colleges, but I'm looking into it. At some point, I would like to teach at a chiropractic college. The energy at a chiropractic college is amazing!
More importantly, once I started talking (okay, instant messaging) my girlfriends about what I should do with my life did the real heart of the matter rise to the surface. I was in tears, and thinking of practicing again made my heart hurt. There was an intense fear of further failure. I managed to salvage my practice in some way, but I was in no way successful if you look at it from the business perspective. So I wasn't really anxious about doing it again.
And that's the thing about identifying the mysterious obstacle. It ceases to be an obstacle. This feeling of fear was recognized and acknowledged and put down after months (years?) of carrying it around.
And things started to happen. I found a possible opportunity to practice again, and possibly in a way where I could practice within an establishment and have much of the hairy business details left to someone else. It's an opportunity I thought was not available, but things happened and they lined up differently.
It was like it was waiting for me to be ready for it.
Which I appreciate.
The other, completely zen like quality to this opportunity is that I have no attachment to it. It very well may not work out due to administration details. And that's okay.
I was mostly just shocked that I was looking forward to practicing again when a few months ago I wondered if I would ever practice again. Or, more importantly, ever want to practice again. Which is something I hadn't expected to feel until 20 years into my career. If then.
So, we shall see.
All this worry from me since I haven't worked in 4 1/2 months, and it turns out, I needed the time off.
Apparently it's all about perspective.
Crushed
So, I'm married, right?
("Right.")
It's a very comfy marriage thus far, about 4 months in. We coexist peacefully and snuggle deeply and enjoy each other's warmth, comfort and company. (Unless one of us ahem is stealing the covers and aforementioned warmth. One of us not being me.)
All cover hogs aside, I love it. I wouldn't trade it. For anything. Not even....
Flirting.
Although I miss flirting. I miss it a great deal. Oh sure, us married fuddy duddies flirt and sweet talk each other, but it's in such an obvious, mushy mushy way. I do love that too...but what I'm referring to here is that flirting experience where you don't know what's going to happen next and you're still trying to read between the lines of a cute boy's niceties, and the "what ifs" are flowing steadily hidden behind shy smiles and uneven heart beats.
I didn't recognize how much I missed it until I dreamed of it last night.
It helps that the cute boy flirting with me was Justin Timberlake. I woke up all atwitter. And with a mild crush on Justin Timberlake that didn't really exist before. (See? Do you see the tricks my mind can play?)
Then I rolled over and snuggled my very own cute boy. Talk about the best of both worlds.
("Right.")
It's a very comfy marriage thus far, about 4 months in. We coexist peacefully and snuggle deeply and enjoy each other's warmth, comfort and company. (Unless one of us ahem is stealing the covers and aforementioned warmth. One of us not being me.)
All cover hogs aside, I love it. I wouldn't trade it. For anything. Not even....
Flirting.
Although I miss flirting. I miss it a great deal. Oh sure, us married fuddy duddies flirt and sweet talk each other, but it's in such an obvious, mushy mushy way. I do love that too...but what I'm referring to here is that flirting experience where you don't know what's going to happen next and you're still trying to read between the lines of a cute boy's niceties, and the "what ifs" are flowing steadily hidden behind shy smiles and uneven heart beats.
I didn't recognize how much I missed it until I dreamed of it last night.
It helps that the cute boy flirting with me was Justin Timberlake. I woke up all atwitter. And with a mild crush on Justin Timberlake that didn't really exist before. (See? Do you see the tricks my mind can play?)
Then I rolled over and snuggled my very own cute boy. Talk about the best of both worlds.
Friday, October 15, 2010
My poor lay friends
I totally judge you when you talk about unhealthy stuff, even though I, myself often partake in unhealthy activities.
I had lunch with my friend today.
(I say that as if she's my only one!)
She was talking about going to a tanning place before her beach vacation. And she *knows* it's bad for her, but she doesn't want to get burned the first day of vacation.
All I can think of is "CANCER! CANCER! CANCER!" and "Just wear some sunscreen! You'll still get tan!"
But I just smile and nod. I don't know her well enough to lecture her with my vast knowledge of health and the human body.
And BTW, most of my unhealthy activities come in the form of sugar and butter.
More later about the folks visit, as well as career choices. Or crises. Depending on your perspective.
I had lunch with my friend today.
(I say that as if she's my only one!)
She was talking about going to a tanning place before her beach vacation. And she *knows* it's bad for her, but she doesn't want to get burned the first day of vacation.
All I can think of is "CANCER! CANCER! CANCER!" and "Just wear some sunscreen! You'll still get tan!"
But I just smile and nod. I don't know her well enough to lecture her with my vast knowledge of health and the human body.
And BTW, most of my unhealthy activities come in the form of sugar and butter.
More later about the folks visit, as well as career choices. Or crises. Depending on your perspective.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Ghost Stories
Remember how I mentioned Quarters One is haunted?
 |
| Quarters One. In February, 2010. No, it hasn't snowed here in the QC as of yet. |
It's too bad the post historian couldn't make it tonight. He will be there for the Fall Festival on October 20th. He knows all the stories of Quarters One. How one night the smoke alarms all went off at once. With no smoke. How all the windows on the second story opened one night. He corresponded with all the prior Aides to previous Commanders and asked them if they had any experiences in the house. He received 50 responses. All of their experiences matched each others and yet, none of them knew that other people had been contacted for their stories as well (preventing anyone from "synching up" stories). They all matched from individual accounts.
In a nutshell, this place is gorgeous.
And haunted.
This site documents findings from the Mississippi Paranormal Society's visit just last year. I did not experience hardly anything compared to the experiences of these paranormal investigators. I didn't feel anything on the main floor. I didn't feel anything on the second floor.
But the third floor....
There are bedrooms up there, of course, right when you come up the stairs. Then there is a hallway to the right which leads to two more rooms and a bathroom. I looked down the hallway and just DID NOT want to go there. But my curiosity won me over and I walked down the four steps and the hallway into the rooms. I noticed not a whole lot.
But suddenly, it was time to go. And it was time to go NOW. I felt an urge to leave so strong, it was hard to say where it came from. And we started walking back down the hallway toward the stairs. And then there it was. Someone was behind me. I felt nothing. I heard nothing. But I knew someone was behind me. The feeling didn't leave until I was past the second floor on the stairs and headed for the main floor.
That was before dinner.
After dinner, we all decided to go back up and explore the house. Most of the third floor wasn't lit and the light switches weren't working (or the bulbs were burned out). It was lit enough to make our way up to the bell tower where you were four stories up and looking out over the Mississippi which was very cool. The party came up and down in groups. Most of the guests had filed out and left by this time and John and I were talking to some others who worked in his building. We were admiring all the portraits of post commanders that started in the main hallway and weaved all the way up the stairs and lined the walls of the second and third floors. These portraits dated all the way back to General Rodman, even though he never lived there. He died before it was finished. The guests had been discussing a Colonel Baylor who commanded there, along with a few others, in a discussion of the history of the post and how their names also adorned conference rooms in other buildings.
Then, on the middle landing of the stairs from the second to the third floor, with absolutely no other person around it (we were at the foot of the stairs and could see the area, even though no one was looking directly at it), a portrait literally jumped off the wall. We heard a crash, and traveled up the six stairs to the middle landing. The nail and picture hook were still in the wall. The wall wasn't damaged at all. The sawtooth hanger on the back of the portrait was still in tact and sturdy. The back of the paper was ripped, presumably from the impact of the frame to the ground, as the frame itself was damaged and one corner was no longer pieced joined together well. The name plate had completely come off the frame. It was as though the picture was bumped from the bottom of the frame hard enough to cause it to come off of the hook and fall to the floor.
The portrait?
Was Col. Baylor who was in command in 1896.
SO.
The CG and his wife hosted Oktoberfest here tonight! They do not live in Quarters One. It *used* to be used for Commanding Generals' living quarters and now it's used for parties and weddings and such. But families used to live here. I couldn't believe it. The place is absolutely HUMONGOUS. (which makes sense since it is the second largest single family home that the USG owns - the first being the White House.)
I got a nice tour from John and met a lot of people who seemed to know who I was. Or at least knew who John was. Or didn't know John was married. Teehee. I met a lot of people. I was actually flattered as General Fontaine and his wife remembered who I was. I only met them once. (back in February.)
But it was good food. Brats, brotsch (bread), goulash (and not the American version which consists of elbow macaroni, hamburger and tomato sauce. this was like a beef stew. Delish!), soft pretzels, German beer, and sweet mustard. Om nom nom! Anyway, here is more on Quarters One....then I'll let you know my experience.
(taken from http://eul.army.mil/rockisland/Docs/quarteronehistory.pdf) (added tidbits from me. of course)
Quarters One
Quarters One was designed by General Thomas Jefferson Rodman (Rodman Ave is the main road on Post) and constructed during 1870-1871. It is situated on the north central shore of Rock Island Arsenal. It has traditionally been the home of the most senior officer stationed on Rock Island
Arsenal. General Rodman who during his tenure as commandant from 1865-1871,
devised a master construction plan for the arsenal that was implemented by his 19th
century successors. Quarters One is a superior example of High Victorian Italianate
style architecture. A massive, lavishly detailed Italianate building, the Commanding
Officer’s Quarters symbolized the importance of Rock Island Arsenal as a major
government installation and it set an architectural standard for three neighboring
officers’ quarters constructed during 1871-1874.
General Rodman never lived in the completed quarters. Unfortunately, he died on 7
June 1871 before the completion of Quarters One. He did reside for a time in a two
story wooden structure, a part of the old Confederate Prison, located near the site of
Quarters One. This and other prison buildings were razed when Quarters Two,
Three, and Four were constructed. (all housing for senior and general officers. I think, technically, our quarters are called Quarters 92 or something like that.) Rodman’s funeral took place on the lawn of
Quarters One and he is buried at the National Cemetery on Rock Island Arsenal along
with his wife Martha Ann.
Quarters One is the second largest single-family government residence next to the
White House. It contains 51 rooms and is approximately 22,000 square feet. (!!!!) The
single gabled, hipped roof with flat deck and skylights, plus its tall, square
observation tower (I went up to the top tonight. Nice view!) are prominent architectural features of Quarters One. The main block and wings are three stories tall and the tower is four stories, with an extremely tall third story. The basement contains sixteen rooms; the old butlery has limestone
counters for rolling dough, special ovens for baking bread, and niches of the butter
churns. The rooms are basically unfinished, with the exception of the trunk room
located at the southeast corner of the main section of the house.
The first floor plan revolves around a central hall in the main block of the quarters.
Opening on to the main floor is a pair of parlors, each having its own rectangular bay
windows. One twin parlors was designed for the cigar smoking men and one was
designed for the ladies to gather after dinner. The door can be drawn shut between
the two rooms when needed. There are sixteen foot ceilings in these rooms. The
parlors’ fireplaces have elaborate cut and polished light gray marble mantelpieces and
hearths. The dining room has a beautiful octagonal bay window. The original walnut
shutters still cover these windows. Also on the first floor, there is a library, a study, a
powder room, a large pantry, and a kitchen. There is a small office at the rear
entrance behind the kitchen.
The second floor corresponds closely with the first floor plan. It currently has five
bathrooms on the second floor. There are six bedrooms, two of these rooms are guest
bedrooms, and there is a seventh room in the tower at the front of the house, which
was used as a sewing room. The two guest rooms are very unique. One is called the
“Rose Room” because of the color used in the room. The other is called the
Lindbergh Room in honor of Charles Lindbergh. In 1927 Charles Lindbergh, on a
flight across the U.S. to promote commercial aviation, landed in Moline, IL. His visit
caused such rivalry between Iowa and Illinois that he stayed in Quarters One on
Arsenal Island and spoke to an overflowing crowd of local citizens in the Arsenal
Cafeteria. The Lindbergh bed, made of walnut with burl inlays, contains a plague
commemorating this historic visit. (this is actually in the Arsenal museum now, and not in the house any longer.)
There are seven rooms and two baths on the third floor. The rooms that are facing the
north to the Mississippi River have an astonishing view. The wood work on this floor
is simply amazing. The third floor has a stairwell that leads to the tower. The tower
room contains a staircase leading up to the fourth floor. The Quad City area can be
seen from the tower exit to the roof of the house. Quarters One has 10 fireplaces;
four on the first floor and six on the second floor.
One of the great features of Quarters One is the north porch facing the Mississippi
River. This is a very tranquil and relaxing place to enjoy during the spring and
summer months. It is indeed a writer’s paradise. Many eagles can be seen perched
on the trees during the winter and early spring months. A full porch extends across
the main entrance of the quarters. Cut limestone piers support elaborate, cast-iron
columns typically grouped in pairs or in sets of three at corner piers. The deck and
ceiling are tongue-and-groove board constructions. Between the columns bases are
sets of ornate, cast-iron railings. At the column tops are elaborate, filigree, cast-iron
brackets. The entire porch is screened from floor to ceiling. Mr. D. C. Thompson,
master molder, supervised the foundry’s recycling of Civil War relicts (mainly
horseshoes) for iron used in the porch grillwork columns, and fencing.
The main double doorway, centered in the tower bay is walnut with a leaf pattern.
The exterior knobs have a dog’s face cast into them and the interior knobs have a
silhouette of a Renaissance solider in them. The dog motif is found on the knob
adjacent to the pantry doors from the dining room and the soldier motif is also used
on the vestibule and central hall doors on the first floor and the exterior door into the
stairway north of the main stair.
Beautiful and ornate ceiling moldings are featured all throughout Quarters One. The
main hallway, the library, and the dining room have particularly elaborate ceiling
moldings and bay windows. Additional running plaster moldings are found on the
ceilings of the parlors and the dining rooms. The third floor ceiling of the main hall
has steeply curving sides with plaster panels framed with plaster waterleaf molding.
Elaborate painted plaster ceiling rosettes are located in pairs on the ceilings of all
three main halls.
A surprising amount of original furniture, mostly walnut, remains in Quarters One.
Between the window and library doorway in the north hall is a built in walnut coat
tree with a cabinet base which is flanked by two umbrella stands. In the wall
opposite is a freestanding walnut chest with a white marble top, above which is a
walnut clock built into the wall. There is a long walnut bench in the center hallway
that was built by craftsmen at the Arsenal’s Woodshop.
The dining room retains a built in china cabinet. This china closet, which
compliments a freestanding walnut sideboard having a dark gray marble top, is set in
a shallow niche in the masonry wall. The flat-walled niche has a semicircular arch at
its top. The base contains two sets of three drawers above a larger bottom drawer.
Above the base is a shallow china case with a pair of glazed doors set in the semicircular
opening. The base contains two sets of three drawers above a larger bottom
drawer.
In a nutshell, this place is gorgeous.
And haunted.
This site documents findings from the Mississippi Paranormal Society's visit just last year. I did not experience hardly anything compared to the experiences of these paranormal investigators. I didn't feel anything on the main floor. I didn't feel anything on the second floor.
But the third floor....
There are bedrooms up there, of course, right when you come up the stairs. Then there is a hallway to the right which leads to two more rooms and a bathroom. I looked down the hallway and just DID NOT want to go there. But my curiosity won me over and I walked down the four steps and the hallway into the rooms. I noticed not a whole lot.
But suddenly, it was time to go. And it was time to go NOW. I felt an urge to leave so strong, it was hard to say where it came from. And we started walking back down the hallway toward the stairs. And then there it was. Someone was behind me. I felt nothing. I heard nothing. But I knew someone was behind me. The feeling didn't leave until I was past the second floor on the stairs and headed for the main floor.
That was before dinner.
After dinner, we all decided to go back up and explore the house. Most of the third floor wasn't lit and the light switches weren't working (or the bulbs were burned out). It was lit enough to make our way up to the bell tower where you were four stories up and looking out over the Mississippi which was very cool. The party came up and down in groups. Most of the guests had filed out and left by this time and John and I were talking to some others who worked in his building. We were admiring all the portraits of post commanders that started in the main hallway and weaved all the way up the stairs and lined the walls of the second and third floors. These portraits dated all the way back to General Rodman, even though he never lived there. He died before it was finished. The guests had been discussing a Colonel Baylor who commanded there, along with a few others, in a discussion of the history of the post and how their names also adorned conference rooms in other buildings.
Then, on the middle landing of the stairs from the second to the third floor, with absolutely no other person around it (we were at the foot of the stairs and could see the area, even though no one was looking directly at it), a portrait literally jumped off the wall. We heard a crash, and traveled up the six stairs to the middle landing. The nail and picture hook were still in the wall. The wall wasn't damaged at all. The sawtooth hanger on the back of the portrait was still in tact and sturdy. The back of the paper was ripped, presumably from the impact of the frame to the ground, as the frame itself was damaged and one corner was no longer pieced joined together well. The name plate had completely come off the frame. It was as though the picture was bumped from the bottom of the frame hard enough to cause it to come off of the hook and fall to the floor.
The portrait?
Was Col. Baylor who was in command in 1896.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)