Ghosts and Graveyards in the News now available.

Ghosts and Graveyards is now available at Amazon in both Kindle and paperback formats.

The Kindle version is 99 cents through October 13. Click here to buy the Kindle book.

The paperback version is $4.99. Click here to buy the paperback.

Chickens, Ghosts, and Marriage

CHICKENS IN THE NEWS did well as a free book earlier this month—made it to number 1 in the free humor and entertainment category and to number 4 in the free history category. If you got a free copy and enjoyed it, please leave a review at Amazon. Thanks!

***

I've been hard at work (after a week of having fun playing tourist and geocaching with a friend who came to visit) on GHOSTS AND GRAVEYARDS IN THE NEWS and hope to have it published by October 1. The cover has a new font called EVIL OF FRANKENSTEIN that is free for commercial use. Isn't that a great name for a font? And it is a perfect font for this cover. I've provided a link in case you are in need of a spooky font.

 

I'm pretty sure the Kindle version will be available by October 1 and the paperback version will follow soon.

Here is one of my favorite stories from GHOSTS AND GRAVEYARDS:

SPITE AND VENOM. Spite and venom are not always buried with the dead and for this reason a censor of gravestones is employed in a big London cemetery. He has had to stop many gross libels on the living that people proposed to put on the stones. Not long since the wife and friends of a tolerably well known jockey wanted to have the dead man’s saddle, whip and cap laid in a cover over his grave. On the grave of a man killed in an accident the relations gravely contested his right to stop an inscription which said, “Murdered by His Masters.” Sometimes, at their own wish, those who pay for gravestones and monuments induce the stone cutter they employ to endeavor to smuggle inscriptions through, but he exercises the most rigid scrutiny. Cases have been known where sunk letters have been filled with putty or cement, with a view of this being quietly picked out afterward, when the letters would, of course, show. One of the coolest proposals was that made by the heir of a manufacturer of sweets. The deceased man made a special kind of butterscotch and the heir proposed that small packets of this should be placed on the grave daily for the refection of visitors to the cemetery. —The Valentine Democrat (Valentine, Nebraska), April 30, 1896. 

***

MARRIAGE IN THE NEWS is also almost ready to go and will also be published in Kindle and paperback versions.

Old photos of couples married 50 years.

 

This page will be part of the MARRIAGES book due out soon. All of the pictures are from old newspapers and all these couples are mentioned in the book.

Three stories about men.

This man, from an 1870 newspaper ad, doesn't look like he would be at all afraid of a milliner's shop.

The husband of the future: The model husband walks out with his wife on a week day and is not afraid of a milliner’s shop. He even has change when asked for it and never alludes to it afterward. He is not above carrying a large bundle or umbrella or even holding the baby in his lap in an omnibus. He runs on first to knock at the door when it is raining. He gets outside if the cab is full. He goes to bed first in cold weather. He gets up at night to rock the cradle or answer the door bell. He believes in hysterics and is melted instantly by a tear. He patches up a quarrel with a velvet glove and drives away the sulks with a trip to Central Park. He never flies out about his buttons nor brings home friends to supper. He respects the curtains and never smokes in the house. He never invades the kitchen and would no more think of “blowing up” at any of the servants than of ordering dinner. He is innocent of a latch key. He lets the family go out of town once every year while he remains at home with one knife and fork, sits on a brown Holland chair, sleeps on a curtain-less bed, and has a char woman to wait on him. He is very easy and affectionate, remembering the wedding anniversary regularly. The Holmes County Republican, (Millersburg, Ohio] September 8, 1870.
 

The well-dressed man in 1910.

Mr. and Mrs. F.F. Bartels of Eldorado, Kansas, celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary on July 15, 1920. Both Mr. and Mrs. Bartels do the cooking and housework and Mr. Bartels has a fine garden as well as many beautiful flowers. They have eight children who were all present to celebrate this occasion. There were also eight grandchildren and two great grandchildren present at this occasion. 

They have one son, deceased, who died in a hospital in St. Louis after an operation in 1910.

A bountiful dinner was served to the family at two o’clock and in the evening about one hundred friends of the family gather on the lawn which was lighted with electric lights. The Liberal Democrat, (Liberal, Kansas) July 29, 1920.

 

The well dressed man in 1921.

And one last story for today - this one about a dead man:

In the English court of appeal has just been concluded a remarkable trial in which the question at issue was: Can a dead man be divorced by law? Under the English law a decree nisi for divorce is granted and the divorce is not completed until six months afterwards. In the case in point the nisi decree was made and the husband died before the six months had been expired. The question was whether his relict was a widow or a divorced wife and on the decision hung the distribution of a considerable amount of property. The court decided that a decree nisi was not a dissolution of the marriage and that consequently the man was not divorced at the time of his death. It would therefore necessarily follow that he could not be divorced after death any more than he could be married or condemned.

None will question the propriety of the law here laid down but how much better it would be if men and women did not rush rashly into matrimony! The society-breaking divorce courts would be unnecessary and marriage would be elevated in dignity from its present fallen state. If divorces were not so easily procured, husbands and wives would bear with one another’s failings and not blazon to the world the shameful story of their misdeeds that are rendered necessary to secure legal separation. The Lancaster Daily Intelligencer, (Lancaster, Pennsylvania) April 10, 1886.

New Book Coming Soon.

This is the cover for my next book. What's neat about it is that the couple on the cover are celebrating their 60th anniversary—the year was 1910—and they are Galen's great grandparents. They almost made it to 75 years.

This was another fun book for me to compile. As always, I love the strange and funny stories but I also enjoyed the historical stories of newlywed couples who came here from other countries or loaded up a wagon and headed west. Like this one:

Papers full of domestic scandals. Statisticians pouring forth awful figures about the increase of divorce. Theorists gloomily announcing the downfall of the American home. Children with from two to four sets of parents. Plenty of such things. But let’s tell a story that’s different.

Fifty years ago a young fellow named Eph Hastings married a comely girl in the little town of Keokuk, Iowa. Of a $500,000 pearl necklace, tapestries, silverware, automobiles, banknotes and things like that they hadn’t much but they had courage and each other’s hearts, and you may be sure that there’s not much “water” in that sort of stock when love’s merger is successfully promoted.

Well, Eph and his young wife turned their backs on Keokuk society and, with their little all of worldly goods, joined a mule train to cross the great plains to the land where the setting sun paints glory on land and sea and in its rising from behind majestic mountains makes praise of God spring from the heart of man.

Then, for weeks and weeks the train crept across prairie and desert, through the cold shadows of valleys that cleft the mountains, across streams too deep to wade. Water was scarce very often, too. Food sometimes ran low. And at night the wolves howled while campfires on distant hills made the women and children crowd close to the men who sat with men with loaded guns on their knees. Indians butchered men, women and children of a train that was following them. Two days later came news that Indians had knifed, scalped, and horribly tortured to the last human being a big train that was ahead of them.

One evening Buffalo Jim, notorious as the most bloodthirsty chief of all Indians, visited their camp. All the people of the train prayed that night and Eph sat with one arm around his bride and the other around his rifle for Buffalo Jim meant horrible death. But something pleased Jim and there was no massacre and so through more hardships and terrors the train went creeping into the west and it was altogether such a honeymoon trip for Eph and his wife as few couples ever pass through.

What a freak this thing named love is! Often it seems to refuse to live with people who have everything. Then again, it forever abides with and grows strong and everlasting with couples who have little, who go through hardships, misery, terrors and even shame together and is, in joy and sorrow, in pleasure and pain, in success and defeat, up to—nay, beyond—the very doors of death the glory of glories of human life.

But we mustn’t leave Eph honeymooning out back there in that mule train. We’re going to life him out of that mule train fifty years forward, fifty years of loyalty, struggle and triumph over the trials of life. At San Diego last Christmas day, Mr. Eph Hastings and the wife who crossed the plains with him celebrated their golden wedding anniversary. He was very gray and bewhiskered but still sturdy. She couldn’t hide all her wrinkles but her face was still round and sweet, and in her eyes was the light of Christmas 1861. Yes sir, they stood up before Rev. C.J. Harris and were married all over again before a crowd of children and grandchildren. Eph took the dear old lady in his arms, kissed her and swore to cherish and protect her until death. It was just beautiful. And the light on their faces proved that there are such things as loyalty and love that do not die. The Chicago Day Book, January 2, 1912.

An interesting but far less ornate wedding.

During medieval times a woman who had nothing when she was married escaped responsibility for her debts. Women were then often married in a single garment to relieve themselves of indebtedness. A young and noble German lady of the sixteenth century, to make assurance doubly sure, had the marriage ceremony performed while she was standing in a closet entirely divested of clothing. She put out her hand through the crack of the door and was thus married. As soon as the ceremony was performed the groom, clergyman and witnesses left the room. The bride then came out arrayed in clothes provided by her husband and took her place at the marriage feast. The Western Kansas World, (WaKeeney, Kansas) October 14, 1893.

An unusual marriage!

Galen and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary with both a trip to Colorado Springs and a party here. We may continue to celebrate all year. :-)

I've been back at "work" (really way more like play) on an anniversary book but there are some marriages and divorces too impressive not to be included. This one, from an 1891 newspaper is one of them.

This is an example of the henna hand painting referred to in this article from ArtIsFun.com. It is an art form that is still pursued today. Now, on to the article:

It was evening when we started off to a Moorish wedding, one of the most interesting sights of Morocco. We found our way to a low, whitewashed house, which the ladies of the party entered. The gentlemen had to remain outside as no man is permitted to look on a Moorish lady. We found ourselves in a short passage leading into the “patio,” a square hall around which the rooms are built. The patio was crowded with women squatting on the floor, some sipping tea and eating sweet cakes; others (the paid musicians) sing in a low, nasal chant to the accompaniment of tom-toms.
 

Passing through these we came into the room where the bride sat in state. The atmosphere was stifling. She was surrounded by lady friends and relatives, many of whom held long lighted candles. The room was long and narrow. Its ceiling was painted in brilliant colors and the whitewashed walls for about six feet were hung with a handsome dado of crimson velvet in panels, each panel being a Moorish arch appliqué in green broche with gold embroidery. Behind white lace curtains at each end of the room stood a bed with pillows encased in Moorish embroidery on silk, a valence of the same reaching to the ground.
 

On one of these beds sat the bride, tailor fashion, with a veil of checked musline entirely enveloping her. This was presently raised and disclosed the lady to our view. She was a girl of fourteen and, being very fat, was considered a beauty. To be fat is considered a woman’s greatest attraction. Indeed, when nearing a marriageable age it is common for girls to lie for weeks covered with warm blankets, passing their time in dozing and feeding on a fattening diet of milk, “boos koosoo” (the native dish), oil, peas, or a certain bean supposed to be infallible as a fat producer.

Her face presented the most extraordinary appearance, being painted white with a delicate pattern in pale blue, yellow, and black on a three cornered patch of crimson on each cheek and chin. The eyebrows were indicated by a thin line of dense black and from the corners of the eyes, which were blackened, extended a fan shaped design in black to the top of the ears. The tips of her fingers and toes were dyed terra cotta with henna. Aysha (so she was called) was clad in a gorgeous kaftan of red silk and gold brocade, embroidered in gold and reaching to her ankles. Her undergarments were pure colored brocade and her waistcoat green velvet and gold. Over the kaftan hung a light gauze garment, open down the front and confined by a band of gold and silk in many colors.
 

Her headdress was composed of silk handkerchiefs pinned around so as to show a narrow edge of each on the forehead. Above these came a band of black velvet with a close design of seed pearls and emeralds. Her neck was encircled by many necklaces, principally strings of pearls, with occasional uncut emeralds and amethysts. She further wore a number of rings and bracelets and anklets of a costly but clumsy description. The most remarkable piece of jewelry was the earrings, which were as large as an ordinary bracelet, the part going through the ear being a tube of gold quite half an inch in diameter. The girls accustom their ears to this by pressing date stones through the hole. At the front of the earrings was an ornament of gold filigree and precious stones, to which was attached a gold chain fastened by a brooch to the headdress. Her outfit was completed by a pair of velvet and gold slippers.
While we were gazing at her we heard a cry in the patio, which was quickly taken up by the women in the bridal chamber. The bridal veil was immediately dropped and the women assumed their helks, a long, white woolen shawl. The reason for this commotions was the entrance of Aysha’s brother, a tall Moor in a dark blue cloth djellabea and white turban. He seated himself on the bed in front of his sister and she, putting her arms around his neck, was carried pickaback into the patio. Here the women were congregated around a curious wooden box swathed in bridal clothes. At one side was an opening where the Moor knelt. The bride climbed over his head and into the box. Draperies were dropped over the opening and Aysha, in her cage, was hoisted on a mule at the door of the house.
 

The procession then formed up, the musicians playing drums and leading the way followed by Moors carrying brass candelabras with colored candles. Then came the bride’s box, surrounded by twenty or thirty Riffians doing a wild, fantastic “powder play” with their long brass or silver mounted guns. Then more candles and a long array of friends. In this way is the bride borne to her husband’s home, no matter how far it may be.
 

Then the box is lifted down to the threshold and the bridegroom’s mother comes with a bowl of milk a loaf of bread and salt for the bride to taste. The keys are the delivered to her and with the old lady, keeping in front the box, the bride crawls out, crawls on to her mother-in-law’s back and is carried to the bridal chamber, there, still veiled, to be locked in alone. The mother then delivers the key to the room to her son, who goes to unveil and look for the first time on his bride.—From the London Graphic and printed in The Rock Island Daily Argus, November 11, 1891.

Isn't "pickyback" a great word?

I am grateful I was married in the USA in 1966.  :-)