We Mean Business

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

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

Outtake:

Bedtime Tingler

Chuck Tingle might have restored my joy of reading.

Publisher's summary for "Bigfoot Pirates Haunt My Balls":

After years of having their natural habitat encroached upon, bigfeet are finally forced to leave the forest and head out into the open ocean. At first, we think that it's the last we’ll ever see of them, until bigfoot piracy becomes rampant across the Seven Seas.

When the most notorious bigfoot pirate, Lorko the Black, is killed off the coast of Santa Monica, a man named Andy begins to feel a mysterious throbbing in his balls. After a trip to the doctor, Andy soon learns that what seemed like a coincidence is actually an acute case of haunted balls, and the only prescription is a bigfoot ghost pirate gangbang!

Now, that piques my interest. Who cares about Merry Christmas, Alex Cross?

Birth Announcements

Baby 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).

Me and Baby Anikka

I carry her everywhere with me, like she is my little doll.

 

Happy New Year, 2021

Happy New Year from Ericka, Anikka, and Jon.

Old Isaac Gilliom (by Todd)

Old Isaac Gilliom

Fine young man

Went to Vera Cruz

from Switzer-Lan'

Quick as a whip

he went Apostolic

just as quick

might been alcoholic

Oh Isaac Gilliom!

- Todd

[From the Gilliomville Message Board]

Blasts from the Past

During last month's travels, I was able to browse through old family photos for the first time in years. I brought a few of them home with me for scanning, like this one:

Me & Brother Todd in the 1970s.

I also learned that plaid clothing was a constant presence in my childhood photos.

The highlight of the trip was a box of memorabilia from my mother that had recently been delivered to my brother in Missouri. My mother died when I was 10 years old, so it was interesting to look through the stuff. A lot of it was famiiar from my childhood, though most of the photographs were totally new to me.

I'd never seen this one before:

My mother, age 3; with Santa Claus, 1950s.

Then there were my baby pics from 1970. It's pretty funny how little I've changed since then:

1 year old Jonnie, 1970.

[Originally posted on Rebel Leady Boy, Sep. 1, 2005]

Half Yards

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

Gill Bros. - Todd & Jonnie.

Hay Elevator

When we were little kids running around at our cousins' farm, we used to love running up the hay elevator and riding it back down - CRASH! - then running back up the other side again, and crashing down again. It was like a huge see-saw with impact.  When you ran to the top, your weight would make it fall (fast!) to the ground. When we were really little, sometimes the impact would launch us up in the air.

I made a chart to illustrate the dynamic:

 Lots of fun, and I got to do it again last week, joined by Cousin Abby Jo:

It's a lot less dramatic now that we've grown up so much.  We used to be able to fit on the very end. It's still fun though.

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

Uncle Rog's Cottage

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

Q:  Who was that Aunt who made the really good cinnamon rolls at Uncle Rog's cottage?
A:  It was Aunt Elva. She also made wonderful potato salad.

When it rained at Uncle Rog's, the girls would go shopping. I remember one year I got new nail polish, and Aunt Elva let me paint her fingernails hot pink. I thought she was the coolest old lady ever.

One time the family was all out at Rog’s cottage and young Rick (about 13 years old) got into Rog's booze and ended up very drunk.

Remember the time at the lake when Nick hooked Aunt Vi in the middle of the forehead [with a fishing hook] and she had to walk around with a hook in there for several hours until they found a doctor to take it out?

I remember mostly loads and loads of jello cubes and as much soda pop as we wanted. There was that outdoor built-in cooler with running water inside, keeping a constant cool temperature. It was like, "wow...we can just keep going back for more...even if we aren't thirsty...They NEVER run out!!!" I'm glad I wasn't footing the soda bill.

I remember all of us licking the jello cubes and trying to stick them on windows. It was kind of gross re-licking them after they fell off, they were all dirty and stuff.

Gilliom Heritage, pt. 2

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

Here’s how I understand my lineage - I am Todd, son of Jon, son of John, son of Orel, son of Isaac, son of Abraham, son of Adam.

Uncle Ralph was able to speak and read German during WWII. While stationed in Germany, he spent the night with a female circus performer, “to watch over her tigers.”

Jon, do you ever remember dad telling about working in the hay mow and one of the brothers was to come up to help him?  Before the brother came up, he threw the pitch fork into the mow and it ended up stuck in the calf of dad’s leg.

They had a game of hide and seek in the basement consisting of hiding and then the seeker would heat up a nail red hot on the coal stove and with a pair of pliers start poking into the corners trying to find a body.

Grandpa [John] Gilliom and some of his friends used to play a game which involved drinking a laxative. The general idea was to see who could be the last man holding it, but they learned real quick it was a better trick to go in the bathroom first, lock the door, and hole up. We asked Alvin Gerber and Uncle Rog about it, but they denied involvement pretty quick.

The story of the liquid laxative is Gospel according to dad. He told me that story so many times that I know it is true. He laughed so hard when telling it. He got the biggest kick about someone wising up and going into the bathroom first and taking up stool space. I asked Rog about it a few years ago and he played totally stupid. He tried to pass it off as being dad and Alvin. I wish dad was alive to refresh some minds.

Grandpa John, Son of Orel and father of Nancy, Jon, and Rick.

The story of the mink in the tile is quite clear in my mind. Dad always told the story, but I heard it straight from Uncle Ralph. The boys saw a mink on the way to school and chased it into a tile. Someone guarded the tile and someone else went home for traps. Uncle Ralph was the master trapper. He exposed a trap at the entrance to the tile. The second trap was cleverly concealed behind the first. The mink later saw the first trap and jumped over it. The mink landed with both front feet in the concealed trap. The story was always told with Ralph being quite the hero.

At recess, some of the boys started chasing and teasing a skunk and ended up getting sprayed and sent home.

Jon, do you remember a bull dog we had (I think it might have been when we lived in Vera Cruz) and we tied it to the clothes line and he hung himself? I surely didn't dream that, did I?

No, it was not a dream. I hated that dog. I remember we had Pug at Raymond Miller's farm. He was given to us with pedigree papers and all. He was a registered Boston Terrier. He used to go out in the pig lot and eat pig shit and then throw up in the yard and on the side walk. I used to wear shorts in the summer and he would bite me. He would just break the skin, but would leave big bruises. Don't you remember it? He used to bite you too. I remember the time he was barking at the cows and the whole herd stampeded, after him. Do you remember that? We lived in Vera Cruz, when he was chained on the clothes line run and got tangled up and hung himself one night. I never shed a tear. I hate pug-nose dogs of any kind to this day.

John, Jon, Nancy, and Hazel Gilliom.

John had a maiden Aunt. Aunt Sarah. She was Grandma Gilliom's sister. She made her home with Grandma & Grandpa. Those of you who remember mom know she did not take criticism well and being ordered around by other people even worse. She wanted to call Jon, "Barry," and Aunt Sarah did not like the idea one bit. Mom said if it had to be John, at least she would spell it the way she wanted to. Hence, the "Jon."

Dad used to get pissed off that Grandma wanted to name him Barry. He hates that name. I imagine he's over it by now, because he hasn't mentioned it in about 20 years. Maybe it's just too sore a topic.

I was going through photos here and found an autobiography Uncle Jon wrote for a class in grade school. It was a fun read - he said when he grew up, he wanted to be a barber, "so I can meet a lot of new people in a well-ventilated shop.”

Q:  To all relation of Gilliom roots:  Are we French?  Folks think my last name is French??? Are we French ... Guys I have to know. It’s really been bothering me. Yes or no - is this true?

A:  No, we are not French. Basically we are Swiss. I think there was a French Grandmother somewhere back there but Grandma Gilliom and all the Aunts and Uncles spoke Swiss. Mom (Grandma Hazel) could not understand Swiss so when we were at Grandma's everyone would speak English.

"Gilliom" does sound French. Uncle Jon says we were based in Alsace-Lorraine for some years. Alsace-Lorraine went back and forth between German and French occupation. We could've picked up a French spelling of the name there. I'm not sure where all that fits in the timeline though.

Gilliom Heritage, pt. 1

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

The Old Gilliom Farm House.
Photo courtesy of Ross Frank.

It was all started back in the old country of Switzerland by Adam Gilliom (who my [Rick’s] Adam was named after). Adam’s wife's last name was Roetlishbarger. They had a son John, whose wife's name was Elizabeth Schneck. John and Elizabeth had two sons named Christian and Abraham, who came to America in 1823. Abraham Gilliom was born on Mount Munster, Canton, Bern Switzerland Sept.14, 1811. At the age of 12, he and his family immigrated to Wayne County, Ohio. Isaac was born in Ohio.

They moved outside of Vera Cruz between 1845 and 1847 to a farm of about 330 acres which the present Harold Isch was part of. Isaac married Melanie Hanny. She was born in Canton, Bern Switzerland on May 3, 1836. She came to America in 1844 with her family. They were French. I met a strange little photographer in Sedona AZ when I was running my meat route and when I told him my name was Gilliom, he said. “You’re Swiss.” He said our family name is a "registered name" in Bern Switzerland and that it was a Swiss Gov thing. Possible cause: the Swiss Gov taxes everything!!

He also told me that "Canton" was or is another name for mountain. With Switzerland a neutral Country, many people were there from many other countries:  France, Germany, Italy etc. I don't know why our name is registered...if we were within the law or outlaws and just a bunch of German hillbillies. This is from a family tree written by Grandpa Orel. Aunt Dula lent me copy back in 1986 or ‘87 and I haven't kept it up to date. I think I gave Jon a copy.

Isaac Gilliom, 1833-1873 was the first Gilliom that belonged to the Apostolic Church. I have no idea what religion they were in Switzerland. Isaac had a brother, Jacob, who went West in 1854 and was never heard from again.

Orel Gilliom.

I was talking to Uncle Roy last Sunday and he told me a good story about great grandpa Orel. When Orel decided to ask for his first wife's hand in marriage, he followed the church's tradition of visiting the church elder to request a proposal be sent to his prospective wife. Apparently when he did, the elder said, "Well, my Lizzie has feelings for you.” So Orel married Lizzie instead of the person he originally had intended to ask for. I guess sometimes a sure thing is better than a chance of first choice.

The spelling of "Orel" has been corrected [changed from “Oral”] in Gilliomville’s online photo gallery.

I did a genealogy project in college. Cousin Carol from Michigan told Mom that Peter Meyer met his wife at a square dance when his fiddle got caught in her skirt. Sounds scandalous to me.

I think it was Grandpa Ed and Grandma Flonie that meet at the square dance. (Now there is a name for someone in the family to carry on - Little Flonie Fern).

There was an Obed, son of Orel. Obed was John's brother that was killed in a wagon/car accident in his late 20's. Obed was in the wagon and the car hit him. Some of the family were on their way to the hospital and had an accident themselves. I have no idea who was driving but I know Aunt Vi had a head injury and was unconscious for several days.

Ask Kenny Gilliom about the story about the car wreck, I think he was thrown through the window. And Ralph was driving, "after a night at the Bluffton Street Fair."

While the era of the horse-drawn wagon is indisputably over, I am proud to be of a line to stick with them even into the era when it was dangerous to do so. God bless Great Uncle Obed!

I don't mean to make light of Gillioms' past tragedies, but personally, I always thought a horse would be a safer way to get around drunk. On one hand, I hate to hear about folks dying no matter how it happens, but on the other hand, something about Obed's departure sounds so close to home -- almost predictable.

Amish Tendencies

My family's ancestors were Anabaptists during the protestant reformation. Over time, schisms within the Anabaptist movement gave rise to groups like the Mennonites, Amish, and others. My direct line came from a later Anabaptist splinter group in Switzerland known as the Apostolics. So, I share some common ancestry with Amish folk.

Our family’s lineage can be traced back to Adam Gilliom, who emigrated from Switzerland to Indiana in the 1800s. At that time, we were Apostolic. A few generations later, my father became the first member of our family to leave the church entirely—a decision he made on his own. He’s mentioned that it was a tough time because none of his friends were allowed to talk to him anymore, and he deeply missed hunting and fishing with one of his cousins.

According to my parents, when I was a little kid, I had a memorable encounter with an Amish buggy. One passed by our house, and I took off chasing after it without a word. My mom was frantic when she realized I was missing; she even called the police.

Eventually, someone reported seeing a little kid running down the road after a buggy, yelling, "Horsey! Horsey!" The police found me and brought me home. When my mom asked what I was doing, I told her with great determination that I wanted to be “an Amish” when I grew up.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Feb. 20, 2004]

Fork Fangs

Cousin Ross taught me this at Long John Silvers in Fort Wayne, IN during the late 1970s and I've never forgotten it. Fork Fangs are an example Hoosier ingenuity at its best.

It's an easy way to entertain yourself and others in a public dining area for no extra cost while your parents are talking for hours. 

Directions:
1. Start with a standard disposable plastic fork.
2. Break off the handle and center prongs.
3. Flip it upside down.
4. Place it in your mouth, and....ta-daaaa - Vampire fangs.
5. Fun time!

Recreating the Fork Fangs experience as an adult..

Engagement Photo

My, and Ericka's, engagement photo:

 

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]