We Mean Business

 A.I. generated business headshots of the Gilliom-Reeb family:

We're professionals: Jon, Ericka, Anikka, & Llyr.

Outtake:

Baby Announcements

Birth announcements for Anikka and Llyr, posted on social media:

Anikka Kathalyn.

Llyr Liev.

First Santa

Anikka’s first visit with Santa Claus; Dec 2021. 

Santa wasn’t actually being scary immediately. Anikka just started crying like crazy when he welcomed her. He did the scary pose real quickly and on the fly for the benefit of a photo when her back was turned to him. He just did that for a second and I’m glad Ericka was ready with the camera.

R.I.P. Jon L. Gilliom: Jan. 5, 1948 – Sep. 7, 2021

It’s been quite a week and I’m sad to say my father, Jon Sr, isn’t with us anymore. “Uncle Jon” was a lion-heart who loved adventure and family, and I know he will be missed by many.

(Photo: Columbia, MO; Aug. 2017).

Happy New Year, 2021

Happy New Year from Ericka, Anikka, and Jon.

Engagement Photo

My, and Ericka's, engagement photo:

Half Yards

Gill Bros w/ half yards in St. Louis, Mo.

Gill Bros. - Todd & Jonnie.

Found Note: My Grandparents Think I'm Gay

Note found in a public library:

My grandparents think I'm gay.

G-ville Message Board Posts

[Compiled from Gilliomville message board posts, contributed by various Gillioms and Franks]:

A perfect Gilliom birthday would involve blowing up the microwave while cooking something.

Here is the rules from now on:

1. No Wild Turkey before posting on Gilliomville.
2. Watch what you say because everyone is reading.
3. Get plenty of sleep on work nights.
4. Eat right.
5. Exercise often.
6. Vote.

I miss mooning people, it's been too long.

Boy, the women just can't stand it when we're happy, can they?

Todd, I had no idea you were so informed on pine trees!!

I want to get to the point to where I could punch out a mean dog.
Then I could walk around pretty confidently.

Looking back through my life, it sure seems like the people who are quick to tell you they have it all figured out, sure fall hard.

I can't believe I took my yard for granted for so many years. It's the only thing in my life I have control over.

In 1990, I shot Brian Clark in the arm. The B.B was surgically removed from his Deltoid.

While cleaning and organizing the house, we came across a whole bunch of useless keys. We tossed them all into one container. Now, as a joke, when we have guests and we just don't want them to leave, we're going to toss their keys into that container; then they'll have to sort through them all to find the correct one. It won't be funny if it happens to you, so make sure you know your keys before visiting.

When we lived out at the lake, Dad taught me and Todd how to tape firecrackers and sparklers to arrows, light the fuses, then shoot the arrow really high up in the air where it would explode. That was really fun. I would also emulate a panel from a Green Arrow comic and lay on my back, holding the bow up with my feet. You could pull the string back really far with both hands and your full body weight. The arrow would go so far up in the sky, you would lose sight of it.

Jonnie, tell me if this brings back memories:  I was looking at my senior yearbook and you wrote, "Well, I might not be finishing up my senior year with you if this whole fire alarm thing doesn't blow over." Those were some wild times.

I remember Dad being really worried that they wanted to kick Jonnie out of school and he couldn’t afford a lawyer.

The bathroom in the Craigville house had a door that led to the roof of the garage. One day, Adam got out on the roof and jumped off. It was like jumping off of a one story house and it didn't even phase him. Abby has told me she remembers jumping off also.

A Valentine to Gilliomville

I was pondering what the real draw of Gilliomville might be, for me at least, and stupid comparisons to tv families aside, it is this:

You all seem to take real joy in one another, and in existence. And in barbecued meats.

But really, that's what got me--that you're this family that's by no means wholesome or bland, you're all funny and engaged in one another's lives to an extent that you built a website to stay in touch with one another.

This strikes me as amazing, poignant, admirable. Maybe this says more about me than any Gilliom out there. It probably does. But Gilliomville stands against the collective American mythology of the dysfunctional, suffocating American family and I for one find that fascinating, comforting, inspiring, even. And you do it without being insipid, cloying, conventional or square. There seems to be so much love, support, and respect passing back and forth. It made me want to call my far flung family and start up a similar arena.

I dunno. It seems like computer culture is a culture of alienation and capitalism, but this site shows it doesn't have to be; that there are other possibilities.

So you see, the Gillioms stand for something, and Gilliomville is a url of entertainment, free thinking and hope. Vicarious thrills aside, that is why I return ever and again.

So maybe you all aren't really great emblems, maybe I'm just a sad little voyeur, or maybe it's some of both, but--I dunno, you made something powerful. Bet you had no idea.

thanks
AmyJo

[From "I Left My Heart in Gilliomville," 2008]

Editor's Introduction

Editor's Introduction to I Left My Heart in Gilliomville
By Jonnie 

For the most part, this volume’s text was taken directly from posts made to the Gilliomville Message Board between Oct. 2001 and Oct. 2008 – W’s post-9-11 years. In some cases, the text was not always copied verbatim. Some things have been altered slightly in the interest of conciseness or clarity. I also paraphrased occasionally and followed most spell-check recommendations when appropriate or if funny and/or interesting.

Some of the text is original to this document. My father (“Uncle Jon”) and Uncle Rick’s ex-wife, Deb, provided some really good stories which fit the spirit of this publication, even though they did not formally appear on the original message board. I also added some personal recollections when they complimented a particular discussion or line of inquiry. I sometimes added editorial notes as well.

I related the story about me and Nick getting kicked off the golf course from memory because its original discussion on the Messageboard was fragmented and probably confusing to anybody who wasn’t there.

It took some effort to make sense of the multitude of random messageboard posts that have accumulated over the years, but I think this book’s five sections provide a reasonable categorization scheme.

Anyway, thanks to everybody for contributing Gilliom/Frank lore and for participating in Gilliomville over the years. When I started the original message board, I had no idea we would still be regularly using it seven years in the future. 

[From "I Left My Heart in Gilliomville," 2008]

Blades of the King

Brother Todd sent me a wild Christmas gift - a metal Elvis box packed with four Elvis pocket knives (and one keychain bottle opener), each one emblazoned with a different image of the King himself. Only in Missouri.

 

Knife Day

[From RW...BS's "Knife Day"]

I have 2 knives of note -

1. My first knife ever:

My first knife ever.

This was a gift from my father when I was 6 years old or so. The little metal plate says "Old Timer" and I've placed it on a bag of small flour tortillas for scale.

It is notable for not having a safety lock, so if you're not careful, the blade can close on your fingers while you're cutting something. Strange choice of gift for a six year old child. It taught me at a very early age to be careful when using knives.

2. Ulysses' Death Knife:

Ulysses' Death Knife.

I acquired this knife in Los Angeles when Ulysses (the guy who rented the basement of Miski's house) moved out and left it stuck in a tree. Miski didn't want it, but said I could have it. It is also placed on the same bag of small flour tortillas for scale.

I still use knives when needed, but I don't always use cutting boards. Somewhere along the line, I've acquired the habit of cutting vegetables while holding them in my hand.  I did this with a bell pepper at my Chinese Professor's house when she invited the class over and she was startled and horrified.  I keep my home knives pretty dull, but hers was super sharp, so that's probably why she over reacted.

[Originally posted on The Real World...Blogger Style!, Sep. 3, 2005]

Stump Removal

It's amazing that Jon Sr.'s property used to look like this:

Todd & Amanda, pre-clear cutting.

Because, now it looks like this:

Post-clear cutting.

And what's the point of having an isolated Alaskan cabin if you don't have a great view?

Once enough trees were cleared, the addition of a gravel driveway made everything look downright civilized:

Uncle Jon's driveway.

After the trees were dealt with, there was still a lot of stump removal, which was probably my favorite task:

Step 1: Chainsaw the roots:

Jon Sr. chainsawing through the tundra.

Step 2: Tie chain to stump:

Step 3: Tie chain to truck & drive:

The stump pops right out, like pulling a tooth, with a satisfying, "craaaack - pop" sound.

The property is pretty much ready, Jon Sr.'s well and septic tank are in place (sidenote: the well site was discovered when a former Salvation Army preacher walked over the property with a dowsing wand). Once the garage/workshop is finished, it'll be time to start building a cabin. No electricity or phone yet, but there is a generator, so he can run his power tools. 

Apparently, extending the phone and power lines a few more poles costs several thousand dollars out there. The custom is to wait until 3 or 4 people all decide they want power, then they all share the cost.

[Originally posted on Rebel Leady Boy, Sep. 10, 2005]

Go, Wood Chipper!

Jon Sr's Rural Alaskan Property Site.

I had a good time helping my Dad clear his property and roof his garage last month.

I really loved getting out of crowded California - most days, we didn't see more than 1 or 2 cars go by all day. When somebody drove by, everyone would stop and look because it was kind of a rare event.

And I very much loved using the rented wood chipper. The property site was originally just full of trees which Uncle Jon had pretty much cleared out by the time I arrived.

Once all the firewood had been cut and stacked, he was left with a mountain of brush. The locals don't like people burning brush because of the possibility of starting a forest fire (it's a tundra environment, so the ground is covered by a thick carpet of low shrubbery), so we had the pleasure to indulge in running everything through a rented a wood chipper.

It took us 8 hours (!) to clear all the brush.

Wood chippin'.

Just feed in the limbs -

- and out fly the chips:

It turned out an 80 year old former school teacher who lived out there had a use for those wood chips. She wanted to use them to pave her garden walkways, so we took her over a few truckloads and were rewarded by an amazing moose dinner!

[Originally posted on Rebel Leady Boy, Sep. 3, 2005]

Homecoming

I'm back from my travels, just in time for my final MLIS class.

August was great! I got to help Jon Sr. build a garage on this Alaska property:

 Then I got to fly down to the mid-west to meet my brand new niece, Mina, in Missouri:

Mina & Uncle Jonnie.

[Originally posted on Rebel Leady Boy, Aug. 31, 2005]

Giant Cabbage Secrets

Look at the size of this cabbage!

With Jon Sr.'s giant cabbage.

My Dad's friend, Tom, grew it in the backyard. Tom might enter it in the Alaska State Fair competition, though Alaskan cabbages are usually even much bigger than this one; because of all the summer sunlight, I guess.

A trick you can all try at home:

If you stick a cabbage plant's roots in a gallon of milk, it will grow to HUGE proportions (supposedly because of all the growth hormone in cow's milk). The practice has been outlawed by the Alaskan State Fair and authorities test for it (like steroids), but you can certainly try it at home with your personal cabbages.

Jon Sr. and Tom are currently debating whether to let the giant cabbage continue to grow naturally and enter it in the fair (though it will not come close to the usual contestants' size) or to stick its roots in milk and see how much bigger it gets.

[Originally posted on Rebel Leady Boy, Sep. 4, 2005]

Jon Sr.

I talked to my dad, Jon Sr. (or “Uncle Jon” to all the cousins), and it sounds like spring fever has officially hit Alaska. He just repurposed an old golf club bag into a custom “gun bag,” modifying it to carry his rifles and shotguns—including his oversized bear gun. The plan is to mount it to the side of his snowmobile for hunting trips.

On a lighter note, I once came across an artist’s rendering of what Elvis might’ve looked like in his 50s. The resemblance to Jon Sr. was uncanny.

Jon Sr. dip-netting Hooligan in 1998.

Elvis in his 50s.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Apr. 26, 2005]

Back in Town

I just returned from a trip home to Indiana for the sad occasion of attending my uncle's funeral.
Aside from the purpose of the trip, it was great to see the family and farmland again.

A lot of us had an early reunion at Chicago O'Hare Airport as all of our connecting flights were delayed or cancelled. I met my father and cousins Adam and Abby there and we all cancelled our connecting flights and took a bus to Indiana.  It was a riotous journey.

At the end of the trip, as we were all entering the airport to fly to our respective home states, Abby sent a fake can of peanuts with a springing snake it it through baggage check.  We were hoping the TSA guy would open it and get pranked. He laughed and refused to open it though. He said he saw the snake in the scanner.

Once back in Orange County, it took me two hours to get home from the John Wayne airport by bus, but it was totally worth it. The driver for the first segment of my ride should have been on American Idol! He sang really well. There were only three passengers on the bus, it was evening, and the driver was singing beautifully. A bunch of old Temptations songs, and I don't know what all. A bag lady who was riding would occasionally join in and they'd perform a duet. It probably was my most delightful bus ride ever.

Based on the three bus drivers I rode with to get home, I'd say that evening bus drivers are far more pleasant than daytime bus drivers (in Orange County, at least). It is probably the lack of traffic congestion.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, June 5, 2004]

Frank Farm

Revisiting the Frank Farm, wishing it was for a happier occasion.