First of all, I’m a delight. Second: “Sometimes you feel like trouble, sometimes you feel down.” (I Just Wanna See His Face, The Rolling Stones)
Well y’all, I’m in the home stretch for 31 consecutive days of posting my art and/or words online. The past few days were a little rough, as I let myself get caught up in things like stats, internet trolls, and comparison (which is the thief of joy). Those things are just the “ingredients” my brain needed to cook up a nice batch of creative block(s), but I made it through…and here I am to tell the tale.
The tagline for my blog/site/whatever is: “Everything I’m about to tell you is true.” While you might find the things I say hyperbolic, they all come with an authentic backstory. Or, as my kids say, I have the receipts (and witnesses).
If you are new here, I shared a huge story about this painting my family owns. I’ve only scratched the surface, and today I’d like to share a little bit more. So grab a cup of your favorite brew and get comfy…things are about to get a little weird.
But first, because I do love a dramatic segue, there are some things you should know: 1) all things mystical, metaphysical, spiritual, folklore, paranormal, and what not are extremely interesting to me; 2) all things comparative religion, faith systems, and beliefs in something greater than we can understand have drawn me in since I was a kid; 3) science is an important part of our world that often is placed as the opposite of spirituality-which is absolutely bizarre to me; 4) the farm where I lived as a child was just across a creek from a cemetery; 5) sometimes life is stranger than fiction.
If you haven’t read about the painting, click the hyperlinked words to get caught up. But for those who enjoy the tl:dr aspect of things, my family owns a painting by an artist that makes the censor bots very unhappy. This person is still alive and very active in certain forums where one might discuss alternate theories about historical events. Upon my return from a few days away last October (2024), my husband pulls me into our garage, sans phones, and tells me the details.
After he was done, it was my turn. The image above is from my Maternal side. It appears that some of my family were, and still might be for all I know, part of an organization that will also get the censor bots to come along. The sash in the above photo is most likely from my Great Great Grandmother. The Journal is from my Great Grandmother, and is from an organization known to help certain mason groups keep their finances in order. If you want to know more, just Google up the Rebekahs.
Lots of folks have ancestors that have ties to all kinds of things (just wait until I get to my Dad’s side), and being part of a fraternal order of something is pretty common during a certain time in history.
While on that trip I made a detour to the cemetery where my Great Great Maternal line grandparents were buried. While there I asked the caretaker if he knew anything about the sash, so he checked the notes on file for my ancestors. He mumbled something, then said he would look it up for me online. Cool, I think, because how nice of him, right? He prints some things up, mumbles some more things, and then says, “What is this anyway, some kind of [word removed] level stuff?” He handed me the papers, told me where the plots were, and then asked me to leave. Fair enough, he’s a busy guy, so I tell him thanks, pay my respects, then head home.
When I tell my husband about this, he just looks at me…then we both start cackling because what are the chances that both of us found out some random piece of info that somehow is like different boats in the same ocean. That’s when we decided that we would find someone to buy the sash and the painting. It was now our quest to get these items into someone else’s hands.
But you see, there’s part of me that’s like a crow – but instead of shiny things it’s little crumbs of “Hmmm…wonder what where this will take me.” After some sleuthing, I found someone to answer my questions about the sash…except that all the records from that lodge were lost in a fire.
A fire…wait…I knew about that fire. There are some stories I’ve gathered about how this particular county was part of the growing illicit alcohol production for the state. What in the weird history was going on? But wait, there’s more. My Mother’s Grandfather was part of this particular state’s transportation department, and often travelled to another state for work. He may have been a Superintendent of Transportation on paper, but what he really did was what locals here call bootlegging. The rest…well you know…is literal history.
This seems like a good place to stop for today. But before signing off, let’s just take a look at the painting again, shall we?
Much love,
~ KEU
This post was written with the help of friendly cats and typo fairies. Please excuse all grammar errors as flights of fancy. If you would like to help appease my editors, you can drop a few coins into my coffee jar. As previously mentioned, quite often, I’m coming back to this creative life after a long period away. If you’ve read this far, know that your time is greatly appreciated.
Currently listening to: The Tales of KE Upton (Spotify playlist)
Kim Upton 