Horse Manure Park

John Campbell was born in Tyrone County, Northern Ireland on 1 August 1821. He immigrated to the United States when he was seven years old. On 13 August 1844, in Montreal, Canada, he married Mary White (also known as LaBlanc in some records). Mary was born on 19 April 1829 in Saint-Martin, Quebec, Canada. Presumably, she spoke fluent French. On 18 October 1868, John and Mary had their ninth (and last) child, a son they named William Barnabus Campbell. On 14 September 1874, Margaret McGowan was born to David and Sarah McGowan. Margaret's great-grandfather was John McGowan, who was born in Belfast, Northern Ireland in 1784 and immigrated to the U.S. on 10 July 1804. On the day after Christmas in 1891, William Campbell and Margaret McGowan were married in Mantorville, Minnesota. William and Margaret Campbell Seventeen years later, they had a daughter on this day, 31 March 1908. They named her Wilma Jerusha Campbell. Wilma is my grandmother and the matriarch of my Walker

By nature, I'm not a very spontaneous person. While I'm certainly not a "Type A" personality, I do like things to be organized and I like to have a "plan." There is a method to the madness: it prevents me from being indecisive and it keeps me from running in circles. But now and then I do things off-the-cuff and those moments often result in great memories. A perfect example: In early 1995 I had the opportunity to perform in Las Vegas in the orchestra of a local theater troupe. Long story short, the drummer of the orchestra had quit just a couple weeks before the scheduled performance in Vegas (at the Judy Bayley Theatre at UNLV) and I was asked if I'd be willing to assume the percussion duties on such short notice -- if so, my flight and accommodations would be taken care of. I was single at the time and had no reason to stay in one place, so I threw caution to the wind and hopped on the plane. Besides, I already knew the music! But that's jus

I hate it when I have to go to Walmart. Well, I guess I shouldn't say I have to go, I choose to go.  The same way I choose to drink a twelve pack of beer and a pint of brandy, even though I know it will result in a horrible headache the next day. I guess it is part of an unconscious inner self-loathing I am afflicted with and I suppose I need serious professional help. I always tell myself Walmart is closer to home and they usually have better prices, so to Walmart I go. The one good thing about it is I always find a pretty good story or at least something interesting to share. Today was no different. So this morning, I spirited through the store getting what I needed. Surprisingly, it was fairly uneventful except when I passed the electronics section. Two people were trying to buy TracFones and the overweight, perspiring, balding Associate was clearly overwhelmed. When a third customer with a shopping cart full of Ol' Roy, Red Bull and Tampax wandered up to the desk, Pe