Monday, December 23, 2013
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
As I start my sequel to THE LOST SLAB I find myself enjoying spending time with our heroine Maggie O'Hara. As you know Maggie is a shoot first and ask questions later type of girl. Maggie's weapon of choice is her custom Glock 9. When I saw this video, it reminded me of my favorite heavily armed peace keeper.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Monday, October 28, 2013
Aunt Sharon used to tease me about writing something nice about her before she died. “I want mine while I’m still alive,” she told me. To live up to my promise, I did pay tribute to her as an inspiration for being the true historian of our family in the back of my last book. The little blurb was far too insignificant and fell short of what needed to be said about her. Therefore, I will break my promise and write something about Aunt Sharon, after all.
Aunt Sharon was proud about being a descendant of Davy Crockett along with the fact that we had a pair 0f grandmothers who were also sisters. (They were also Crockett descendants.) The fact that our family tree grew back together after branching out on more than one occasion seemed to tickle her instead of being a point of contention. She loved our family history and spent hours on end in pursuit of the truth.
Over the past couple of years, Aunt Sharon was helping me with my research on proving that we are also descendants of Sergeant Alvin York. After convincing myself that I had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Alvin York was an Uncle to all of us with Kelsheimer lineage, Aunt Sharon called me back and informed me that I was missing a death certificate of a ne’er-do-well ancestor, who had run off to Michigan in the 1850’s. As a novelist, I look at cold hard facts as something to work around, but she informed me that genealogists live by a different creed. They are all like Joe Friday. “Just the facts ma’am…” So as it stands, I am confident to say that there is a 97.35% chance that the members of our family are all nieces and nephews of Sergeant Alvin C. York.
Many of my best childhood memories occurred in Danville at the home of my city cousins. Growing up on a farm where the nearest kid lived two miles away, a trip to Danville was truly a trip to the big city. There were all kinds of ways to get into trouble at Aunt Sharon’s house that were unavailable to me at home. With the four Oreskovich boys along with myself and my two brothers—poor Aunt Sharon never had a chance. Our visits were more like an invasion than a family reunion. I should probably take this opportunity to apologize to my sweet cousin, Mary, who looking back, was tortured in more ways than can be described. It’s a miracle she turned out as good as she did.
Aunt Sharon took everything in stride. Don’t get me wrong. Aunt Sharon wasn’t a wallflower when it came to corralling wayward boys. She had enough practice, that you might say she was an expert on the subject. She ruled with a firm hand, without letting you forget that she still loved you. It didn’t hurt that my punishments were never as severe as Tommy’s or Steve’s. It was almost like having your cake and eating it too. During my lifetime, all Aunt Sharon ever gave me was love and kindness. In return—I teased and tormented her endlessly. She always made me feel at home and a part of her family.
There were several times during my teenage years and in my twenties that Aunt Sharon was the only voice of reason in my life. We had some conversations that had a profound effect on the way I look at things today. Her love was unconditional and her advice was practical.
Several years ago, during a private conversation I had with Aunt Sharon, she mentioned that she didn’t feel she had anything to give anybody. Some of her friends had what she called “personal ministries.” They had a purpose or a cause to give their lives meaning. She said she didn’t have any callings, like feeding the homeless or saving stray animals. She wanted to do more with her life, but didn’t know what to do.
I asked her to name the most important thing in her life.
“That’s easy,” she answered. “It’s my family. I love my family more than life itself.”
“How is that not your calling?” I asked. After all—her children and grandchildren numbered enough to fill a country church-house.
She thought about it and then smiled. When her eyes began to water, she gave me a hug and then ran into the kitchen. When I heard her banging around in the other room, I was half-afraid to go in and check on her. Shortly thereafter, she returned with two giant bowls of ice cream. Aunt Sharon also had a calling for ice cream. She realized that her family had been her "personal ministry" all along.
The point I want to make is that, Sharon Oreskovich loved her family more than she loved life, itself. So to Uncle Tom, and Oreskovich/Adams cousins; whenever Aunt Sharon was “getting up in your business,” she was just spreading her love and fulfilling her calling.
So Aunt Sharon, I am truly sorry for breaking my promise, but I had to say something. I love you and will miss you always.
P.S. Save me some ice cream.
|Aunt Sharon Dad|
|Dad Aunt Sharon|
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Rick Kelsheimer to Appear with James Alexander Thom at Meet and Greet at Southern Indiana Writer's festival
Rick Kelsheimer will be appearing at the Southern Indiana Writers Festival along with National bestselling author James Alexander Thom and twelve of Indiana's favorite author's. There will be a meet and greet on Saturday November 2, from noon to 2 pm est at the main library in Vincennes, Indiana. The event is free to the public.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
I saw these guys In Terre Haute in1975. Tje opened up for REO Speedwagon and Bob Seeger. I think the ticket for the show was $7.00. Their biggest hit was Smokin' in The Boy's Room. The Band was a little quirky to say the least.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
After year and a half of fighting joint pain and chemo-therapy, South Union: A Novel of the Civil War is finally finished and at the publisher. It should be available by Labor Day. It is different from anything that I've written before. I hope you will give it a try.
Thanks for all of your support... Rick
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Friday, May 24, 2013
The little 'Civil War' novel South Union is almost finished. I'm working on the final chapter as I speak. The book however is much longer than anticipated. I plotted for 150 pages and its going to be in the neighborhood of 350 pages. So much for short and sweet. I should have a release date soon and will post it then.
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Friday, April 26, 2013
Trying to keep 12 Fifty two year old pinsetters running...Priceless
For those of you who have never seen the back of a bowling alley, these monstrosities, aka,
(12) 1960 AMF 82-30 model 6225 Pinsetters, are what keeps the the pins on the lanes and returns the bowling ball back to its owner. They are a complicated piece of machinery on their own, but imagine how hard it is to keep them running when you slam a 16 pound projectile into them at 20 mph night after night year after year. My 12 pinsetters have over 8 million games on them. That is 80 million frames. With an average of two strikes per game, that makes it around 144 million bowling balls that have been tossed down the lanes at the Robinson Bowling Center.
Not bad for 1950 American craftmanship.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Friday, March 8, 2013
Thursday, March 7, 2013
A. Hale Business Systems, Mary Kay Cosmetics, Fuller Brush, and W. R. Grace Co. will merge and become: Hale, Mary, Fuller, Grace.
B. Polygram Records, Warner Bros., and Zesta Crackers join forces and become: Poly, Warner Cracker.
C. 3M will merge with Goodyear and become: MMMGood.
D. Zippo Manufacturing, Audi Motors, Dofasco, and Dakota Mining will merge and become: ZipAudiDoDa.
E. FedEx is expected to join its competitor, UPS, and become: FedUP.
F. Fairchild Electronics and Honeywell Computers will become: Fairwell Honeychild.
G. Grey Poupon and Docker Pants are expected to become: PouponPants.
H. Knotts Berry Farm and the National Organization of Women will become: Knott NOW!
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Friday, March 1, 2013
During my annual trip to Springfield, I decided to stop by Camp Butler National Cemetery just east of the city. Over 200,000 Union soldiers were trained and staged at this sight on the Sangamon River during the civil war. The sight was also used as a Confederate prisoner of war camp. Sickness and disease took its toll here as 700 Union and 800 Confederate soldiers died here. My great great great grandfather, Nathan B Farmer trained here from Jan 1, 1862 Feb 10, 1862. He fought and Fort Henry and Fort Donnelson and was killed at the Battle of Shiloh on April 7, 1862. I wanted to see what the area looked like where he spent his final days in Illinois before be shipped south by railroad car. I was amazed by the size of the cemetery; over 20,000 veterans are buried here. As I stood alone on this snowy day and meditated, I couldn't help but realize that this place is truly hallowed ground.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Saturday, February 2, 2013
My Paternal grandmother is named Margaret, but as long as I can remember, we always called he Grandma Peg. As I got older I realized that Peggy was a pet name for Margaret much in the same way that Rick or Dick is for Richard or Bill is for William. For years I pondered how you get from Margaret to Peg, but really never asked anybody or lost any sleep over it. One day last week I found this anonymous poem. Whether it is correct or not...I don't know. But for me...this mystery is solved.
In search from A to Z they passed,
And "Marguerita" chose at last;
But thought it sound far more sweet
To call the baby "Marguerite."
When grandma saw the little pet,
She called her "darling Margaret."
Next uncle Jack and cousin Aggie
Sent cup and spoon to "little Maggie."
And grandpapa the right must beg
To call the lassie "bonnie Meg."
From "Marguerita" down to "Meg,"
And now she's simply "little Peg."
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Friday, January 25, 2013
As I drove home from Terre Haute last Friday, I stopped at Merom Bluff to watch the sunset. The sun was too bright when I shot directly to the west, but when I shot at the river to the north, I got these cool effects. These photos haven't been altered. To me they look like Matthew Brady's Civil War photos. Anyway... it was a great sunset.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Here is the first look at the cover art for my upcoming novel, South Union: A Novel of the Civil War. Once again Paul Spangler's water color is exactly what I wanted. I hope to get the book into preproduction before the end of April.
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Tuesday, January 22, 2013
"The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed, lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work instead of living on public assistance."
Friday, January 11, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
The other day, someone asked me to name my favorite poem. I had to rattle my brain a little, but I answered: Little Orphant Annie. As I reread this classic by James Whitcomb Riley, I was instantly transported back to my grandmother's house. (This poem works best when it is read by a grandparent to a grandchild.) The story was fun and a little bit scary at the same time. But that pretty much sums up the days of childhood. I never grew tired of hearing the sing-song rendition and cadence of this verse and would give anything to hear Nanny Farmer or Nana Gin, recite it once again. The poem loses something in transition today if you don't know how midwestern people spoke a hundred years ago. My Grandmothers had the ability to render the poem just as Mr Riley had intended. (Part ghost story ; part cautionary tale and always with conviction) This poem triggers so many memories of my childhood that it almost serves as a time machine. But as fun as it was, it always served as a warning: Since being naughty comes natural to a child, it helped keep me in line, cuz I knew the Gobble-un would certainly get me if I didn't watch out.
LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE
by: James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916)
- INSCRIBED WITH ALL FAITH AND AFFECTION
- To all the little children: -- The happy ones; and sad ones;
The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad ones;
The good ones -- Yes, the good ones, too; and all the lovely bad ones.
- ITTLE Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
- An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
- An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
- An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
- An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
- We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
- A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
- An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
- Ef you
- Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--
- An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
- His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
- An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!
- An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
- An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;
- But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:--
- An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
- Ef you
- An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
- An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
- An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,
- She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
- An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
- They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
- An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
- An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
- Ef you
- An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
- An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
- An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
- An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
- You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,
- An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
- An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
- Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you
- Ef you