San Diego Baxley’s

Baxley Family Armorial

I’ve been hard at work publishing all of my sister Heather’s genealogy research that she’s been completing over the last several years, focused mainly on our Hilton lineage.

Update: See Family Tree / Eve to Angela Marié.

Meanwhile, the Baxley’s come from the Anglo-Saxon tribes that ruled over Britain, and are from Sussex and Buckingham where they’ve held a family seat from early times.

The Lifeguards: A Reminiscence of West Coast Beaches in the 1950s by Robert C. BaxleyMy dad, Melvin, called me to remind me of an important and timely key point in my life… every single Baxley in the United States is related—all of William Baxley, who landed in Maryland in 1663.

Then he told me that one of my relatives lived locally in San Diego, Superior Court Judge Robert Baxley, or “Bax” as friends called him (see bracelet on the cover of “The Lifeguards, A Reminiscence of West Coast Beaches in the 1950’s” by Robert C. Baxley). Yes, “called” as in past tense. I’m once again heart broken to learn I won’t meet another legendary human on this earth.

However, I hope his friends will help me out.

Who knew I was coming home? Continue reading


Allen Eugene Rodman: December 30, 1974 – October 31, 2015

Allen Eugene Rodman (December 30, 1974-October 31, 2015)

Allen Eugene Rodman (December 30, 1974-October 31, 2015)

Allen Eugene Rodman, Kirkwood Police Officer, passed away on Saturday, October 31, 2015 in St. Louis, Missouri. Allen was buried in Woodland Cemetery in Van Wert, Ohio.

He was the beloved of Jessica Marie Dacus, the son and first born of Wanda Carolyn and the late Graydon Rodman, and a loving father of Michal l’Lena and Evan Elijah Rodman, and to Christopher and Shelby.

Allen will be missed by his only brother, Burton Lowell Rodman, his family and his mother.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there; I did not die.

And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin’
And you can’t remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was screaming

Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie, by Bob Dylan


The Ghost of My Father by Scott Berkun


From bestselling author Scott Berkun comes this powerful new book, funded by hundreds of kickstarter supporters.

It’s a personal story about his failed relationship with his father, and how his family was torn apart  in 2012.

The book explores the meaning of family, through personal stories about Scott’s struggles to connect with his father, in the past and the present.

It’s an achingly personal memoir of loss, love and the hope of transformation by searching through the past.

It’s a book for anyone struggling with their identity in their family and seeking a bright path through dark times.

Continue reading

@debbieblox Disrupting the Pink Aisle
Culture, Technology

Toys R’ Us and the Power of Pink—or Purple—“when I feel like it”.

In 2006 I wrote a paper about gender in toys, “Toys R Us—Engendering Children Are Us” for my UW Sociology of Family course.

Now it’s 2014 and we’re demolishing gender stereotypes and disrupting the pink aisle…

Sterling realized she was one of the only female engineering majors at Stanford University.

The Story of GoldieBlox | Cassie Jaye from Focus Forward Films on Vimeo.

“When Debbie Sterling set out to create GoldieBlox engineering toys for girls, she was hoping to sell much more than a product. She was hoping to inspire a movement that could eventually change the gender ratio in the engineering industry,” reports  from the Dallas Business Journal. Continue reading

Ancestry, Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Music

You died.

Originally published June 13, 2013 on Medium, but was removed for being posted in the wrong place—oh, well, I tried.

“Your granddaddy don’t dance, and your grandma don’t rock n’ roll like mine…”

What would it take me to speak up, to hoot and holler and say “hey, y’all I have a story to tell”?

They killed my clown. Oh, it’s just this fantasy in my head. They didn’t really kill my clown, there’s not even really a ‘they’. My grandpa died is all. He was a clown, and he died, and that damn near killed me.

But that’s not this grandpa, and that’s not this story. Oh, honey, ‘it’s complicated’ could never quantify a relationship in this family. But, if you stick with me, I’ll tell you a story that’ll blow you away some day…So back to this grandpa, and this story. He’s dead, and that did it. It was this one, this guy, the one that walked into my day dreams a few summers ago and made me believe in God.

And the curious thing is, I have no idea if he believed himself. I mean, I know grandma does?—?she’s that whole evangelical pentecostal holy spirit healing and hoopla kind of religiousity, something that I saw plenty more of being raised in the South.

… but that’s not the point either, the point is simply, you died.

Grandpa died. Grandma Hilton is all I have left.

It’s time to start telling stories.

— I’m testing my voice. I’m testing with a tease. Please offer critique, I get by with a little help of my friends. My friends have always been on the internet.


My God Kids

I'm the God Mother:

I’m the God Mother: “Because you’re like a fairy godmother who makes dreams come true, only we don’t believe in fairies.”

My dad’s new wife used to work at Apple Inc. She got there because “nobody told her she couldn’t,” as she so whimsically put it. She is an extremely creative, talkative, and pushy person. She inspires. She thinks in pictures. She’s a social media butterfly, connected. She’s charitable. Take all of these characteristics to the hundredth degree, and you have Angela Marie Baxley Glass.” — Melissa Andrea, here with her older brother Adrian Quezada, and little sister Gianna Vanessa


My Grandpa, Herbie Schaadt

HERBERT LOWELL SCHAADT, 78, of Fort Wayne, passed away on Thursday, June 13, 2013, at Visiting Nurse Hospice Home.


Born April 26, 1935, in Willshire, Ohio, Herb was a son of the late Dorothy Fritz & Edward Schaadt.


On Jan 23, 1957, he married Laura “Katy” (Hilton) Schaadt. He retired from International Harvester and enjoyed being a musician in Audiences Unlimited.


Herb will be sadly missed by his wife, Katy; daughters, Wanda Rodman of Antwerp, Arlene (Melvin) Baxley of Statesville, N.C. and Audrey Knapp of Sarasota, Fla.; brother, Marvin of Fort Wayne…


seven grandchildren

  1. Allen Eugene Rodman
  2. Burton Lowell Rodman
  3. Angela Marié Niblick Baxley Glass
  4. Sandra Nicole Knapp
  5. Heather Reneé Niblick Baxley Puckett
  6. Matthew Gabriél Niblick Baxley
  7. Erin Estellé Baxley Hagar


and 13 great-grandchildren

  1. Luc Andrew Rodman
  2. Nathaniel Marc Rodman
  3. Madelynn Grace Rodman
  4. Hannah Marie Knapp
  5. Tyler Jayce Roberts
  6. Michal l’Lena Rodman
  7. Brittany Leann Hagar
  8. Katie Danielle Hagar
  9. Evan Elijah Rodman
  10. Hailey Estellé Hagar
  11. Mackenzie Leigh Puckett
  12. Hannah Nicole Hagar
  13. Jackson David Puckett
  14. (Addison Rae Knapp)
  15. (Charlotte Avery Baxley)

Uncle Randy and Grandpa

He was also preceded in death by his son, Randy; and brothers, Richard and Raymond.


See “You Died“, originally published on Medium, and the

And Grandma rocks my beats

Grandpa Schaadt and Gidget the Clown, his grand daughter

Service is 2 p.m. Monday, June 17, 2013, with viewing two hours prior to the service, at Dooley Funeral Home, 202 W. River St., Antwerp, Ohio. He will be laid to rest at Maumee Cemetery. Memorials to Hospice Home.


Condolences and fond memories may be shared at

Published in Fort Wayne Newspapers on June 15, 2013

Featured Video Play Icon

The Family Band

The past year was a difficult one for our family, and the family band—the Three Rivers Band.

Herb and Katie and the kids

Herb and Katie and the kids

First, our uncle Randy went into the hospital to suddenly find out he had a brain tumor. Given six months to live, they operated.


He died six weeks later.

This nearly killed the band, as he was Grandpa‘s roadie.

Then Grandpa died.

Uncle Randy "Bubby" and Grandpa

Uncle Randy “Bubby” and Grandpa

After Grandpa died, Momma raced up to Indiana to break her out of the nursing home—where she found Grandma, having started a girl band in the Alzheimer’s Ward!

Grandma rocks the Ward at the nursing home.

Grandma rocks the Ward at the nursing home before momma arrives!

So while The Three Rivers Band is by name and nurture of Fort Wayne, Indiana, the band has gone South where Grandma has taken up with her Southern grandkids who are scrambling to step up to the microphone to carry on the family legacy!

Stay tuned for updates…!

Still in Fort Wayne and need a music fix? Check out Fort Wayne’s annual Three Rivers Festival, rockin’ the three rivers since 1969! Otherwise, we’ll post updates as we get the family band back together—coming soon to a stage near you, if you’re in the South!

Ancestry, Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Music

Closed Head Injury

Letter to a Friend

I graduated to a larger keyboard in procrastination.

I went back to do the dishes and thought to myself, ‘this isn’t the life I want’. Did I tell you? I had even tried to convince myself that I just had to get things all in order so that everything in life would be ‘ready’. See how that worked out? Needless to say these hands have yet to hit dishwater. So much for Southern.

But is there really anything wrong with that?

If someone would give me just one cup, plate, bowl, spoon, fork, mug and what else do I need?

I’ll tell you what, just a really cool place to put them!

I need to figure out how to be happy, or this is going to suddenly feel like a very long life, I get the feeling, from here on out…

Today is the day that my daddy died, 30 years ago today, or some time within 12 hours or so either way, because I can never quite remember if the accident happened the night before, or if it was already considered the next day, and when it was that he died, or rather, how long it took him to die. And since I move so damn often, the paper which answers this question every year when I inevitably go searching for it to determine once again, for another year, just it was ‘when’ that ‘what’ happened, is buried in boxes which are worn and disheveled from the packing, repacking, and moving again, again, and again.

Any way, I’m listening to Yo-Yo Ma do Johan Sebastian Bach while considering doing my dishes, or just throwing out all my clothes, …or just moving to a life I’d prefer to be living?

It wouldn’t take a psychiatrist to be able to tell you that if I could have anyone with me here tonight to have a glass of single girl microwaved a few seconds to knock the chill off red refrigerated wine it would be my dad. No, not the one who called yesterday to make sure that I was okay, I think because he knows even if only from the signs from my mother’s odder than usual behavior triggered by it nearing that day again… No, I mean my father, the one who gave me life. He was an artist and a lover, a singer and a movie maker, although I have to tell you his song in the band is pretty much dreadful.

Here’s Dog Sweat, by Matthew Raymond Morris Michael Niblick. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, you’ll want to cover your ears. But to me, it’s music. That’s my daddy’s voice. When I heard this ‘song’ this past year, it was the first I’d heard my daddy’s voice, since he died thirty years ago. Still, Dad! What were you thinking?!

My Daddy, the artist Matthew Raymond Morris Michael Niblick (movie footage 1979-1983) from Angela Baxley on Vimeo.


For Daddy: There’s not a word yet for old friends who’ve just met.

Daddy Matthew

This looks familiar, vaguely familiar,
Almost unreal, yet, it’s too soon to feel yet.
Close to my soul, and yet so far away.
I’m going to go back there someday.

Sun rises, night falls, sometimes the sky calls.
Is that a song there, and do I belong there?
I’ve never been there, but I know the way.
I’m going to go back there someday.

Come and go with me, it’s more fun to share,
We’ll both be completely at home in midair.
We’re flyin’, not walkin’, on featherless wings.
We can hold onto love like invisible strings.

There’s not a word yet for old friends who’ve just met.
Part heaven, part space, or have I found my place?
You can just visit, but I plan to stay.

I’m going to go back there someday.
I’m going to go back there someday.



Into the Wild

It’s a mystery to me
We have a greed with which we have agreed
You think you have to want more than you need
Until you have it all you won’t be free

Society, you’re a crazy breed
I hope you’re not lonely without me

When you want more than you have
You think you need
And when you think more than you want
Your thoughts begin to bleed

I think I need to find a bigger place
‘Cause when you have more than you think
You need more space

Society, you’re a crazy breed
I hope you’re not lonely without me
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you’re not lonely without me

There’s those thinking more or less, less is more
But if less is more how you’re keeping score?
Means for every point you make your level drops
Kinda like it’s starting from the top, you can’t do that

Society, you’re a crazy breed
I hope you’re not lonely without me
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you’re not lonely without me

Society, have mercy on me
I hope you’re not angry if I disagree
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you’re not lonely without me


What? You didn’t know I was a graveyard clown?!

True Stories are better than Fiction

My boots were made for walkin’… whether they’re the cowboy or Spanish…

If I sang, would you… sing with me?

Pockets full of posies,

Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down.

She's Gidget. Roscoe was Grandpa.

Hi folks. I’ve been blogging since sometime in 1997—I don’t know where my original blog is, it was on Earthlink, Geocities or something like that—somewhere along the way I stopped blogging. Whereas once I was just an anonymous voice on the Internet—pre there even being such a word as “blogging”—now there was Google.

Going from anonymous to identified, I found myself scared to write anymore.

That era has ended.

I am Angela Baxley, the Spunky Gidget, a clown, from a family of clowns and a legacy of artists and humanitarians, rock n’ roll, and crazy Christians.

I’ll start telling the story. But I’m sorry, mostly it’ll be told how it unfolded, and at my own whimsy and whim. Published on the days that it happened, or as it should be dated by my own judgment.

I publish as Spunky Gidget as my alter identity, @ang @baxley are different personas. Ang, like the nickname, is intimate for my closest friends and family. Baxley is who I am, the one you all love and know. I have other web presences out there, and maybe over time I’ll even disclose those, the who, what, when and why of the identities. In any case, Spunky Gidget is what brought me to the Internet, and that’s how you’ll hear my voice.

That way Angela Baxley can keep her reputation intact, at least for a little while longer! 😉

"Give It Up for Gidget"


Family Tree: King David

This family tree line uses the same bloodline as Queen Elizabeth; see The Irish Prince and the Hebrew Prophet.

David “King of Judah” Ben Jesse (1085 – 1015) is your 102nd great grandfather.

  1. David “King of Judah” Ben Jesse (1085 – 1015)
  2. King Solomon Ben “Judah” David (1033 – 975)
  3. Rehoboam “King of Judah” Ben Solomon (971 – 913)
  4. Abijah Abijam “King of Judah” Ben Rehoboam (957 – 955)
  5. Asa “King of Judah” Ben Abijah ha-David (924 – 870)
  6. Jehosaphat “King of Judah” ben Asa ha-David (908 – 848)
  7. Jehoram Ben Jehosaphat ha-David (889 – 885)
  8. Ahaziah ben Jehoram ha-David King of Judah (906 – 884)
  9. Joash ben Ahaziah ha-David King of Judah (885 – 839)
  10. Amaziah ben Joash ha-David King of Judah (864 – 810)
  11. Uzziah Azariah ben Amaziah King of Judah ha-David (826 – 758)
  12. Jotham ben Uzziah ha-David King of Judah
  13. Ahaz ben Jotham King of Judah ha-David (787 – 726)
  14. Hezekiah ben Ahaz King of Judah ha-David (751 – 698)
  15. Manasseh ben Hezekiah King of Judah ha-David
  16. Amon ben Manasseh King of Judah ha-David (664 – 642)
  17. Josiah ben Amon King of Judah ha-David (648 – 610)
  18. Zedekiah Mattaniah ben Josiah Judah King of Judah (618 – 586)
  19. Tea Tephi bint Zedekiah Judah (580 – )
  20. Giallchadh mac Oilioll Olchaoin King of Ireland (561 – 552)
  21. Nuadhat I Fionnfoil mac Giallchadh (540 – 527)
  22. Áedan Aodham Glas King of Ireland
  23. Siomon Breac mac Aodhan Glas (483 – 477)
  24. Muireadhach I Bolgrach mac Siomon (469 – 468)
  25. Fiacha Tolgrach Heremon
  26. Duach II Ladhgrach mac Fiachadh Tolgrach (381 – 371)
  27. Eochaidh Buadhach
  28. Úgaine Mór King of Ireland (330 – 300)
  29. Cobthach Cóel Breg King of Ireland
  30. Meilge Molbthach King of Ireland
  31. Irereo Fáthach King of Ireland
  32. Connla Cáem Cruaidchelgach King of Ireland
  33. Ailill Caisfiaclach King of Ireland
  34. Eochaid Ailtlethan Foltlethan King of Ireland
  35. Óengus Tuirmech Temrach King of Ireland
  36. Énna Aignech
  37. Labehra Labhra Suire Lorc
  38. Blathucha Blathacht
  39. Easamasn Easmhna Easamhun Ruadh
  40. Roighnen Ruadh (Rorzhmen)
  41. Feneogha Finnlogha
  42. Finn (Fian)
  43. Eochu Eochaid Feidlech High King of Ireland
  44. Lugaid Riab nDerg High King of Ireland
  45. Crimthann Nia Náir High King of Ireland
  46. Feradach Finnfechtnach High King of Ireland
  47. Fíachu Finnolach High King of Ireland
  48. Túathal Techtmar High King of Ireland
  49. Fedlimid Rechtmar High King of Ireland
  50. Conn Cétchathach “of the Hundred Battles” High King of Ireland
  51. Art Óenfer mac Cuinn High King of Ireland
  52. Cormac mac Airt ua Cuinn King of Ireland
  53. Cairbre Lifechair King of Ireland
  54. Fiacha Sraibhtine King of Ireland
  55. Muiredach Tirech King of Ireland
  56. Eochaid Mugmedón King of Ireland ( – 362)
  57. Niall Noígíallach “Niall of the Nine Hostages” King of Ireland (368 – 450)
  58. Eoghan Foghan Owen mac Néill King of Ireland, King of Tír Eoghain, and Prince of Inis Eoghain ( – 465)
  59. Eirc (or Muredach) King of Dalriada in Ireland (363 – )
  60. Fergus Mór King of Dalradia in Argyleshire (389 – )
  61. Domangart Réti mac Ferguso King of Dalriada in Argyleshire (415 – 505)
  62. Gabrán mac Domangairt “the Treacherous”, King of Dalriada (446 – 560)
  63. Áedán mac Gabráin King of Dalriada (477 – 606)
  64. Eochaid (or Eochu, or Eochaidh) I Buidhe King of Dalriada and the Picts (448 – )
  65. Domnall Brecc (Dongart) King of Scotland and Dalriada (600 – 673)
  66. Dongart (Eugene VI) Macdomnail Domongart Scotland (630 – 692)
  67. Eochaid II (Findon) of Scotland King of Dalriada (660 – 692)
  68. Eochaid III King of Scotland and Dalriada (695 – 721)
  69. Aodh Hugh (Aed Find) Fionn “the White”, King of Scotland and Dalriada (725 – 778)
  70. Eochaid Achaius IV King Of The Scots “The Poisonous” (747 – 819)
  71. Alpin mac Echdach Kintyre King of Dal Riata (778 – 834)
  72. Kenneth Kinet I Mac Alpin King Of The Scots (810 – 858)
  73. Constantine I King Of The Scots (836 – 877)
  74. Donald II Dasachtach King Of The Scots (862 – 900)
  75. Malcolm I King Of The Scots ( – 954)
  76. Kenneth II King Of The Scots ( – 995)
  77. Malcolm II Mac Kenneth King Of The Scots (970 – 1034)
  78. Doda De Falaise (980 – 1003)
  79. Harlette Herleva De Falaisse (1003 – 1050)
  80. Adelaide Adeliza of Normandy (1030 – 1090)
  81. Stephen Blois Champagne Holderness d’Aumale (1070 – 1127)
  82. Ada d’Aumale (1115 – 1183)
  83. Walter IV Tyrrell Sir Knight (1139 – 1171)
  84. Walter Thomas Tyrrell (1384 – 1406)
  85. Walter Tyrrell (1350 – )
  86. John Tyrrell Sir (1382 – 1437)
  87. William Tyrrell Esq. of Gipping in Suffolk, Sir, Sheriff of Norfolk & Suffolk (1418 – 1471)
  88. Dorothy Tyrrell (1459 – 1491)
  89. Margaret Boteler (1490 – 1520)
  90. Elizabeth Harmon Payne (1510 – 1585)
  91. Dorothy Margerie Leonard (1527 – 1611)
  92. Robert Calvert (1557 – 1645)
  93. Anne Marie Calvert (1603 – 1646)
  94. Thomas Beall (1631 – 1707)
  95. Elizabeth Beall (1660 – 1764)
  96. Elizabeth Dryden (1720 – 1770)
  97. Elijah Moore (1753 – 1835)
  98. Christiana Moore (1786 – 1866)
  99. Anna Carter (1805 – 1838)
  100. Robert Niblick (1824 – )
  101. George Willick Niblick (1860 – 1949)
  102. Rufus Clarence Niblick (1899 – 1962)
  103. Roger Dale Niblick (1928 – 2011)
  104. Matthew Raymond Niblick (1958 – 1983)
  105. Angela Marié Niblick Baxley Glass
Ancestry, Cannabis


Randy at Hell's Point, Pokagon, Labor Day 2012

I am proud of my mother.

She challenged the authority when they told her that my uncle had six months to live.

In her heart, she knew better. In six weeks he was dead.

My mother didn’t fight the authority, there was no point. Either way, he’d be dead. Yet, my mother took her belief seriously. She rearranged her priorities, so that she could be with him not wanting to miss spending time with him while he still breathed.

My mother shared her belief with those of the family who would listen, and some believed what she, in faith, said. Because my mom is something of a natural nut, some chose to believe the word of the medical authority over what she so strongly believed.

My mother called us together, asking the family to gather, to spend time with him. The doctors had decreed his six months in July, my mom come and see him Memorial Day. I questioned my mother, asked her, is it Labor Day you mean? More than her words, I knew what she meant, what her belief would mean.

Schaadt's in Hell

Those of who believed, who took the health nut my momma seriously, took heed. The family all gathered, and the other side of the family hosted, the ones who take my mom seriously. Amid music and singing, children playing and sunflowers, my aunt and uncle (of that side of the family) offered Uncle Randy relief in the form of a weed. Though it’s not an appropriate natural remedy in my mother’s belief, it was thanks to God’s creation that he was able to join in the merriment, raising a guitar to his knee. Before that day, I never he knew that he could really play.

Uncle Randy

Later I confessed to my mother that she must know that the pleasure thanks to the leaves of a weed. I urged her to urge his caregiver to implore his doctor to prescribe him the prescription, mans form of God’s gift by the hand of their own authority. My aunt, the caregiver, and my mother agreed, though the need was plain to see, relief shouldn’t be obtained in the form of what they’d call “weed“, they apparently don’t approve whether relief is by a pill form prescription or by what he’d breath, or eat. I’d never make it home fast enough to see about sending him cookies.

That was the last day I’d really see him, that day watching the last of his life—more so than any other day I’d ever seen—as he laughed and he played and he drank and even sang. That night, still relieved, apparently was the last and only he’d really sleep. Later I here he spent hours dead to the world, but even a caregiver, I imagine if I am bold, will note the difference between succumbing to death and breathing easy in sleep.

All this is to say, that I’m proud of my mother and that though they’d say that he’d have six months in this life to remain. My mother, though others would think her insane, ignored the authority and in her campaign we thus would win the last few days we’d never get back again. Those who’d doubt totally missed out, but my mother made sure we had all the time with him that we could spend.

I think of my mother happy that she’d challenge authority. What they said she simply couldn’t believe. They say that ‘faith is the assured expectation of things not yet beheld’, and it takes faith to believe.

Had my mother held to her faith, and urged us to believe, I wouldn’t have seen my uncle and get to say goodbye, in not so many words, before he’d leave.

My dear parents, my sisters and my brother, I’m glad we all listened to our mother, listened to her, trusted, had faith and believed—even though we weren’t raised to question authority.

Momma didn’t try to fight the authority, and neither will I.

Momma at the Lake, Labor Day 2012

I believe that we’ll all obtain life, given the lives we live, when we die. The difference is simply the reward you’ll obtain, by what words we heed while in this life we remain. I think of Nikki, who momma’s words didn’t heed, she heard but didn’t listen, and by doubt missed out because it was the doctor’s she chose to believe. She said she’d see him later, and though in this life she was wrong, I imagine that one day the band will get back together, and we all will be there to sing along.

Grandpa, Me, and Uncle Randy

I hope that you’ll respect me, as I take my leave from believing what I was taught is the authority. I asked them questions they couldn’t answer, so I’ll believe what I read. The Word became flesh so that we could believe, and God left us a written record for us to read. He planted faith among us, a tiny little seed. Buried like our uncle and father, all it takes now to raise from up under is to read and believe! I will not try to uproot you from the soil you know, recalling God’s creation: seed, sun and water—we reap what we sow; a man planted, a man watered, but it was God that kept making it grow.

Then God said,

“I’ve given you every sort of seed-bearing plant on Earth And every kind of fruit-bearing tree, given them to you for food. To all animals and all birds, everything that moves and breathes, I give whatever grows out of the ground for food.”

And there it was.

God looked over everything he had made; it was so good, so very good!

It was evening, it was morning—Day Six. — Genesis 1



Randy Lowell Schaadt 1957-2012

Grandpa, Me, and Uncle Randy

Randy Lowell Schaadt, 55, of Fort Wayne, passed away Friday, September 21, 2012 at his sister’s residence in Antwerp, Ohio.

Uncle Randy: Family Photos

Randy, known by his three sisters as “Bubby“, asks that you watch his collection of family photos (on Flickr, above) with the accompanying track “GOODBYE” (below, on SoundCloud) as a slideshowAngela suggests playing the video (further below, on YouTube) on low volume over the soundtrack as you watch the slideshow, too.

Randy was born in Van Wert, Ohio on August 31, 1957, the son of Laura “Katy” (Hilton) and Herbert Schaadt of Fort Wayne.

Uncle Randy

The last song the family, the Three Rivers band, played together—Angie, Katie, Herbie, and Randy—was the Animals “House of the Rising Sun“.

He will be sadly missed by his parents and sisters, Wanda Rodman of Antwerp, Arlene (Melvin) Baxley of Statesville, NC & Audrey Knapp of Hobe Sound, Florida.

Schaadt's in Hell

Continue reading


My Momma: Arlene Jean Schaadt Baxley

I was talking with my momma this morning about orthomolecular medicine, and all the work she’s done to help people achieve better health over the years. Most often when I’m thinking about my momma in this regard, I think of how it is that she’s responsible for bringing life to families struggling to have children. What more beautiful work can there be as a humanitarian than to care for the quality of human life, and it’s propagation through it’s generations of families? Continue reading


Judge Robert Baxley, 76; a lifeguard who also loved the law

Judge Baxley, the Lifeguard

Judge Baxley, the Lifeguard (see “BAX” bracelet on book cover)

Link: Judge Robert Baxley, 76; a lifeguard who also loved the law | The San Diego Union-Tribune

I’m heart sick. Why can’t I meet anyone before they die? Wouldn’t it have been great to hang out with “Bax”? Maybe he could have taught me to surf.

Judge Robert C. Baxley was as a doer and a dreamer. He poured as much energy into a vigorous recreational agenda as he did into the legal profession he loved.

“He was a total Renaissance guy,” said Superior Court Judge Frederic Link, a friend and longtime colleague. “His friends ranged from surf bums to Nobel Prize winners.”

Judge Baxley, who retired from the San Diego Superior Court bench in 1998 after suffering a stroke, died Monday at his home in Point Loma. He was 76. He had been suffering from respiratory complications, his family said.

Appointed to the Superior Court bench by then-Gov. Pete Wilson in 1992, he “loved being a judge and was heartbroken when he had to leave,” Link said.

After retiring, Judge Baxley wrote the second of two books, “A Miscellaneous Lawyer,” and traveled the world.

“A lot of us say we want to do things and never do,” Link said. “Bob would do it.”

Ancestry, Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget

Send in the Clowns. Roger Dale Niblick, 1928-2011

Listen to He Walks With Me (In The Garden) “Song for Grandpa” by Tina and Herbie Niblick

My grandpa, Roger Dale Niblick, was Roscoe the Clown in the style of Emmett Kelly, and had also stepped into Ronald McDonald’s clown shoes.

Niblick Family of Hessen Cassel, Fort Wayne, IndianaHe and my grandma Madonna conjured up fifteen kids to fill up an old large white house on Hessen Cassel in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to go to school with the Niblick kids. My momma has a clue, rumor has it that it was not just one, but at least two of the Niblick boys that she’d dated.

You’ll note that there are just three girls, and twelve strapping handsome boys—my daddy is the long haired one, cross-legged, front and center, Matthew Raymund Morris Michael Niblick.

Roger Dale Niblick (1928-2011), as Roscoe the ClownIn 1983 when my daddy died, I remember my momma “getting sad” from a song on the television. It was Judy Collins on the Muppet Show, Send in the Clowns (video below).

Until now, it had never occurred to me whether or not any of her sadness came from the fact that his daddy was a clown,… and how it must feel for a parent to lose their child. Isn’t enough that she was just 21, widowed with two children, and pregnant with her third?

Sometimes life just isn’t fair.

I had wanted to talk to my Grandpa Niblick about his time in Nicaragua. A little bit after my grandma died a few years ago he up and moved to Nicaragua.

It wasn’t entirely shocking as my Aunt Tina had been in Barbados for what seems like forever. She, known in her work as Sister La’el, tells me, “he clowned for MANY years, even while in Nicaragua. During the service years he was also in Africa and Greenland.”

I think it’s only appropriate, twenty eight years later, to play Send in the Clowns.

This time, it’s for my grandpa, who was always the only clown that mattered in my life.


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Lost, Please Find.

It started with opening facebook to a post Patrick Terry had just put up:

“That’s all I wanted, something special,
Something sacred in your eyes,
For just one moment, to be bold and naked
At your side”

Daddy and Me

I wondered for a moment at who wrote it as I gestured over the comment notifications, coming to one from a name I know from my oldest memories, Rosalee.

Rosalee Matt was a great artist, he had his Lincoln Life uniform on. I hope Arlene saved some of his work, it was amazing.

Angela Baxley Hey Rosalee—unfortunately I don’t think we have anything left of his. It seems each piece one by one met by some untimely demise along the way. I’m most heart broken over the one he painted specifically for me. If you do come across anything of his, including reproductions, Heather and I would love to collect whatever we can.

Daddy's Tired

Pam That’s you, Heather—in his expression!

Lisa Is that the hat that they gave your brother in December? The one of your Dad’s!

Heather You know—I don’t know. I’ll hafta ask Momma. That would make it that much more special!

Lisa Yes it would.

Heather It certainly does look like it!

Lisa That’s what I thought. I think it was Wonda was tagged, ended up being your pics. So I was checking them out again. But it’s time since your trip home. When I looked at this one I was like OMG I think that is the hat!

Angela Wow. That makes me so happy. I’ve always hated Matthew hasn’t had anything of his. It seems so unfair they never met—they look just alike. It’s so hard to see my father stuck at the same age as my brother. We’ve all grown older than he has now.

If you have any artwork by the artist Matthew Raymond Niblick (1958-1983), this is my father. Please contact me via

Momma and Daddy

Update 4.9.2013

This morning via Twitter I was alerted to the Facebook “Other” inbox—others also being made aware that there might be messages missed… I went to check and there was a message from a nun in Wisconsin responding to this post. She had written in February:

A friend of mine is doing research on the paintings in the back of St. Michael Church, in Dane, Wis… I know that these were painted by Matthew Niblik as they are signed..

He painted these pictures when our church was new…1975. One of St. Michael sending Lucifer to hell, one of Our Lady of Guadalupe and one of our school and church.

I remember he had a sister who is a sister of St. Agnes…Sister Lael.

Not sure if this helps you.

longtime teacher at St. Michael…now Blessed Trinity School.

I’m hoping to they’ll be able to send digital photos — so exciting to really get to see artwork of his we’ve never seen!


Footsteps and spiritual heritage.


The first missionaries of the Watch Tower Society arrived at the General Andrews airport in Ciudad Trujillo, now Santo Domingo, on April 1, 1945. “What would it be like to carry on their God-given ministry under a Catholic dictatorship?” those missionaries were doubtless wondering. Here is the story of Lennart and Virginia Johnson about those memorable days:

“The car driver took us to the Victoria Hotel on 19 de Marzo Street, just off El Conde. Rooms for the two of us cost five dollars a day, good meals included. Once settled, we were anxious to get in touch with local people. Two Dominican women with whom we had studied in Brooklyn had given us the names of their relatives and acquaintances in the Dominican Republic. First, we went to a street called Luis C. de Castillo to look for a Dr. Green. Not knowing where this might be, we took a car, and how happy we were to find him at home, and also his neighbor, Moses Rollins!

We were promptly invited to enter the neat, clean-cut wooden home. The living room, perhaps ten by fourteen feet, was furnished with mahogany chairs, with very cool reed backs and seats. Both Dr. Green, about forty, and Moses Rollins, somewhat older, gave us their undivided attention. Virginia and I explained how we got their names and addresses and why we had come to the Dominican Republic. In fact, we had arrived that very day. That afternoon we started a study in the book “The Truth Shall Make You Free.”

Moses Rollins became the first local Kingdom publisher and later proved very helpful in supplying the correct “Dominicanisms” for translating the English Informant (later known as Kingdom Ministry) into Spanish. He served as a pioneer from April 1961 until his death in October 1970. Dr. Green was finally baptized in 1963, shortly before his death. Three daughters and a son are dedicated servants of Jehovah, the son, Francisco Green, now serving as an overseer of one of the congregations that meet in the present Santo Domingo branch building.”

Brother Johnson continues:

“After that first study, Dr. Green took us house-hunting from the upper deck of a two-story bus. We rode the full bus route, finally renting a small concrete home at the west end of the city and arranging for a few items of furniture.

Our shipment of literature and personal effects arrived and so did the rain. It rained and rained and rained, torrentially, every day. We wrote in about it, and the Society said that if that was the kind of weather we had, we should get used to preaching in it. There was scant fruitage for our work in this area.

In June we were joined by missionaries Zene and Meryl Caryk, Rhudelle Baxley and Rachel Bippus, and we began pushing out to additional territory.”


When severe persecution caused first-century Christians in Jerusalem to be dispersed to other areas, this resulted in a spreading of the good news. (Acts 8:1, 4) In a similar way, when the Dominican Republic banned the work of Jehovah’s Witnesses and deported the missionaries, this contributed to expansion in the Puerto Rican field.

On August 3, 1957, ten of these missionaries arrived at Isla Verde Airport in San Juan. There were four married couples Lennart and Virginia Johnson, Raymond and Rhudelle Johnson, George and Nellie Droge, Roy and Juanita Brandt and two single sisters, Kathryn Glass and Dorothy Lawrence. These were quickly assigned to various towns in the island, and new missionary homes were opened.

One of these missionaries, Raymond Johnson, was in his new assignment in Caguas only a short time. He was making the last house-to-house call one morning with his wife and had just placed a “Let God Be True” book when he sat down in a chair and died of a heart attack. At his funeral 192 were present and a good witness was given, even as he had given a faithful witness during his lifetime.