My mother was my best friend. She wasn't the huggy-touchy-feely-Suzy-Homemaker kind of mom, but she was always there for her children and loved us all, unconditionally. You'd better bet we had our routines and traditions--things we knew we could count on, largely because of a very strong sense of family--grandparents and all--no matter where we lived all over the world. One thing I noticed, big time, was that my mother and HER mother had a great relationship. I admired that. I determined that I wanted that in my life, too. My mother and I were at least as close as she was with my grandmother, and I hoped that when I became a mother, I could have that kind of relationship with my chilren.
As a teenager, I can remember watching as some of my friends would fuss and fume about their relationships with their parents. I didn't understand that not everyone was as lucky as I. If something good happened to me, I couldn't wait to get home to tell Mom about it. Same thing if something not so good happened. We shared a lot.
Mom had been my Girl Scout leader in middle school. She and her co-leader took the troop camping at least once a year. Mom and I shared that, too--a love of camping. Thus, when I was in high school and was attending a weekend Camporee event, I was having such a grand time that all I could think of was, "I wish Mom were here. She would love this!" I had to go home and tell her all about it, but it wasn't the same as if she had been there in person.
My mother died suddenly on the day after Thanksgiving in 1986. I was only 39 years old; my daugher, only 7. It changed everything about my life. I couldn't be Mommy's Little Girl anymore. I had to care for my dad and take care of my daughter without my mother there to back me up if I sagged. That Christmas was going to be a sad one.
For children, life has to go on. Megan (my daughter) was given a solo to sing at her school's Christmas program--one verse of the song The Friendly Beasts. That night, I sat in the bleachers in the gym of her elementary school, less than a month after my mother's passing. When it was Megan's turn to sing, she stepped to the microphone, and in a clear and lovely voice, she sang her solo with poise and confidence. I just sat and blubbered! I was so very proud of my child and so very sad that my mother couldn't be right there to witness her very first performance!
My daughter and I have shared one love in common: music. Meg was exposed to all kinds of good music from the very beginning, and she took to it--everything from show tunes to folk music, country music, classical music. Her taste in music became ecclectic. Whenever we traveled, we played tapes in the car and sang along together.
When Meg became a show choir member in high school, I jumped in with both feet. What a joy to be able to watch such talented kids performing so professionally! I ate up every second of it, and I knew my mother would have loved it, too!
So now, we have come full circle. Megan and her husband, his parents, and her father and stepmother, spent the day at Disney World yesterday. They got to see a musical performance at Epcot Center, with three choirs and full orchestra, all Christmas songs with scriptural narration, ending with The Hallelujah Chorus. The program was called "The Candlelight Processional". When they got back to Vero Beach, she sent me some Instant Messages about the performance. Even sent me a short video of some of it. Her main comment was, "I wish you could have been here for that. I thought of you the whole time!"
I get it, Megan. I really, really do...
Monday, December 10, 2012
Friday, December 7, 2012
Pearl Harbor Baby
Today is my sister's birthday. We have come a long way since our childhood, and I am so happy that we have! I love you, Shari Andrew! I wish your life were easier right now, but we persevere!
PJ
PJ
Vacation Horror Stories
I was telling this tale to my daughter a few weeks ago and realized that I probably should write it down for the archives.
Back in the early 70s, during the big fuel shortage debacle, my husband-to-be bought a foreign car for improved gas mileage. In those days, foreign cars were most always "compact", as was this one. He purchased a Toyota Corolla hatchback station wagon. "Station wagon" sounds roomy, but this one wasn't. It was a COMPACT station wagon, and I was agog that he would buy one...but such were the times.
The Toyota was a manual transmission "stick shift". I had to learn to drive it, but learn, I did. Supposedly, that added to the fuel economy. (I just have no clue why it would.) In any case, we headed out on a two-week camping trip through the American West. The car was packed to the gills, plus we pulled a two-wheel utility trailer packed with our camping gear. Both car and trailer carried our necessary treasures: clothing, tent, sleeping bags, pillows, foam pads, plywood kitchen box, pots and pans, food, porta-potty--basically everything one would have at home. This was a deconstructed house on wheels. I'm pretty sure our gas mileage suffered from that as well as from the altitude of places we went, but we were not to be dissuaded!
We were in Colorado. I had read things about Leadville and wanted to go there. We approached on a highway from the east. In order to get to Leadville on regular roads, we would have had to drive many miles out of our way to the south and back north again. Joe, however, noted a moutain pass--Weston Pass--that could cut a lot of time and miles off the trip. He decided we should try it, in spite of signs that warned that it might not be open. I was a little skeptical but figured he knew what he was doing, so we started UP on Weston Pass.
For those of you who don't know, a "pass" in the mountains means "a way over the top". It does NOT imply a road! What we experienced was...should I say...less than a road. It was mostly dirt. At first, it was fine. We went upward and upward, with the land seeming okay and not a problem. Then, the "road" became ruts and rocks and nothing around. It could not have offered passage for a vehicle coming from the other direction, but that wasn't a problem because we saw not a single other vehicle anywhere around! Then it became steep. Ruts and rocks and steep. Yikes!
The little Toyota did the best it could, under the circumstances, but as we slowly approached the top of the pass, it labored and slugged. Joe kep downshifting. The vehicle struggled to pull the trailer, and we struggled to keep it running before it would stall out. Finally, we were in the lowest gear and praying to beat the band that the car would manage to get us over the top. It didn't look good.
My mind was racing. Perhaps we would need to unload where we were when the car eventually stalled and camp until someone found us. Unbeknownst to me, my spouse's brain was also racing, only he figured we'd need to unhook the trailer, push the car over the pass, then pull the trail over the pass by hand. Neither of us expressed our fears to each other until after the event was over.
How did it turn out? The Toyota labored and groaned and did everything it could to get over that pass...inching along (and I do mean INCHING)...we finally, FINALLY, got over the pass! No emergency measures were necessary, although I'm not sure why, to this day. We arrived in Leadville, in some of Colorado's highest mountains, only a little worse for wear. Praise be!
Back in the early 70s, during the big fuel shortage debacle, my husband-to-be bought a foreign car for improved gas mileage. In those days, foreign cars were most always "compact", as was this one. He purchased a Toyota Corolla hatchback station wagon. "Station wagon" sounds roomy, but this one wasn't. It was a COMPACT station wagon, and I was agog that he would buy one...but such were the times.
The Toyota was a manual transmission "stick shift". I had to learn to drive it, but learn, I did. Supposedly, that added to the fuel economy. (I just have no clue why it would.) In any case, we headed out on a two-week camping trip through the American West. The car was packed to the gills, plus we pulled a two-wheel utility trailer packed with our camping gear. Both car and trailer carried our necessary treasures: clothing, tent, sleeping bags, pillows, foam pads, plywood kitchen box, pots and pans, food, porta-potty--basically everything one would have at home. This was a deconstructed house on wheels. I'm pretty sure our gas mileage suffered from that as well as from the altitude of places we went, but we were not to be dissuaded!
We were in Colorado. I had read things about Leadville and wanted to go there. We approached on a highway from the east. In order to get to Leadville on regular roads, we would have had to drive many miles out of our way to the south and back north again. Joe, however, noted a moutain pass--Weston Pass--that could cut a lot of time and miles off the trip. He decided we should try it, in spite of signs that warned that it might not be open. I was a little skeptical but figured he knew what he was doing, so we started UP on Weston Pass.
For those of you who don't know, a "pass" in the mountains means "a way over the top". It does NOT imply a road! What we experienced was...should I say...less than a road. It was mostly dirt. At first, it was fine. We went upward and upward, with the land seeming okay and not a problem. Then, the "road" became ruts and rocks and nothing around. It could not have offered passage for a vehicle coming from the other direction, but that wasn't a problem because we saw not a single other vehicle anywhere around! Then it became steep. Ruts and rocks and steep. Yikes!
The little Toyota did the best it could, under the circumstances, but as we slowly approached the top of the pass, it labored and slugged. Joe kep downshifting. The vehicle struggled to pull the trailer, and we struggled to keep it running before it would stall out. Finally, we were in the lowest gear and praying to beat the band that the car would manage to get us over the top. It didn't look good.
My mind was racing. Perhaps we would need to unload where we were when the car eventually stalled and camp until someone found us. Unbeknownst to me, my spouse's brain was also racing, only he figured we'd need to unhook the trailer, push the car over the pass, then pull the trail over the pass by hand. Neither of us expressed our fears to each other until after the event was over.
How did it turn out? The Toyota labored and groaned and did everything it could to get over that pass...inching along (and I do mean INCHING)...we finally, FINALLY, got over the pass! No emergency measures were necessary, although I'm not sure why, to this day. We arrived in Leadville, in some of Colorado's highest mountains, only a little worse for wear. Praise be!
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Other Obsolete Customs
To add to my list of obsolete customs that I posted the other day, let's include:
Thank You Notes.
I hate it, but we've come to this. Once upon a time, it was considered not merely polite but necessary to write a note of thanks to someone who gave you a gift. Of course, if the giver were present, all that was necessary was to give a heartfelt verbal message, but if the gift was opened away from the giver, a note was required. Why? Because someone cared enough about you to go to the trouble of buying and sending you a gift, however small. The LEAST you can do is acknowledge that the gift was received and appreciated. And, if not appreciated, a simple "Thank you for thinking of me" would work. Parents used to plunk their children down at a table with notecards and make them write thank you notes to benefactors. Unfortunately, the custom is fading out with my generation. A few years ago, I spent a couple of hundred dollars on a wedding gift for the child of a dear friend of mine. I heard not a word thereafter. Look--I don't give gifts for the thanks and undying gratitude, but I do think it's a shame that people forget to do this and that we have raised a generation of people who think it isn't necessary!
The Bedroom Chair.
I didn't experience this nor figure it out until I was an adult, but it used to be customary to have a chair in each bedroom for people to sit on as they were dressing...so they wouldn't sit on the bed and break down the corners of the mattress! Beds now are just so much furniture. Oh well!
More as I think about it...
Thank You Notes.
I hate it, but we've come to this. Once upon a time, it was considered not merely polite but necessary to write a note of thanks to someone who gave you a gift. Of course, if the giver were present, all that was necessary was to give a heartfelt verbal message, but if the gift was opened away from the giver, a note was required. Why? Because someone cared enough about you to go to the trouble of buying and sending you a gift, however small. The LEAST you can do is acknowledge that the gift was received and appreciated. And, if not appreciated, a simple "Thank you for thinking of me" would work. Parents used to plunk their children down at a table with notecards and make them write thank you notes to benefactors. Unfortunately, the custom is fading out with my generation. A few years ago, I spent a couple of hundred dollars on a wedding gift for the child of a dear friend of mine. I heard not a word thereafter. Look--I don't give gifts for the thanks and undying gratitude, but I do think it's a shame that people forget to do this and that we have raised a generation of people who think it isn't necessary!
The Bedroom Chair.
I didn't experience this nor figure it out until I was an adult, but it used to be customary to have a chair in each bedroom for people to sit on as they were dressing...so they wouldn't sit on the bed and break down the corners of the mattress! Beds now are just so much furniture. Oh well!
More as I think about it...
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
WHY Do I Cry So Much????
Music does it, dammit.
Yesterday in church, we were singing "Angels We Have Heard On High". This is not a new song, or even an emotional one...but who sat in one of the front pews, singing her heart out with tears streaming down her face? This gal!
Tonight, PBS is airing stuff about Rogers and Hammerstein. They were playing a clip of "The King and I"...and here I sat, weeping. Why?????? I wish I knew!
Music is the only thing that always moves me to tears. Well...uh...except for things that relate to my grandchildren.
This isn't going to go away, so I pray that anyone who sees me in public during these performances will forgive my weaknesses. :)
Yesterday in church, we were singing "Angels We Have Heard On High". This is not a new song, or even an emotional one...but who sat in one of the front pews, singing her heart out with tears streaming down her face? This gal!
Tonight, PBS is airing stuff about Rogers and Hammerstein. They were playing a clip of "The King and I"...and here I sat, weeping. Why?????? I wish I knew!
Music is the only thing that always moves me to tears. Well...uh...except for things that relate to my grandchildren.
This isn't going to go away, so I pray that anyone who sees me in public during these performances will forgive my weaknesses. :)
Obsolete?
I have recently been thinking about things that used to be done in polite society, but are no longer. At least not consistently. This isn't a complete list. Feel free to add more!
Hostess Gift.
Once upon a time, when someone went to visit another overnight, it was customary to take a gift for the hostess. It didn't have to be much...just a token of thanks for the hospitality. I don't think this is done anymore. Too bad! It was a nice custom.
Hankerchiefs.
Back when my parents were alive, if I happened to put on my mother's duster or my father's jacket, there was always, always a tissue in the pocket. I used to laugh about that, but I understand it now. My nose runs constantly. My car, my pockets, my house all have tissues everywhere. Don't remember my parents complaining about the nose thing, but they sure had the tissues! In my parents' generation, men carried handkerchiefs in their pockets. When Dad dressed, he put his wallet in his pocket, then his change from the dresser, then a clean hankie. In fact, hankies were always on the list for Christmas and/or Father's Day presents. When Kleenex tissues came along, more sanitary, etc., I think the notion of carrying a hankie became obsolete. But for those of you who read this blog and know I am a huge Dr. Phil fan, it always touches me when he has a weeping guest, reaches into his pocket, and produces a handkerchief for him/her to cry in. I love this.
Aprons.
Back in the days when laundry was only done once a week, protecting clothing was a big deal. I had play clothes and school clothes back then. When I got home from school, I was to change into play clothes and play shoes. I didn't see the reason for that. My mother did. She and my grandmother always wore aprons when cooking. Mom had a "duster" that she wore to protect her clothes from grease and other splatters. (Nowadays, we just use stain-spotters and throw the stuff in the laundry. Oh, how things have changed!) I don't own an apron. If I splash on my clothes, I just make sure they are pre-treated and throw them in the laundry. Thanksgiving is an example of that. I was pulling meat off the turkey carcass when a piece jerked off the bone and splashed grease all over my shirt. After laundry, the shirt is back to normal. :)
Social Courtesies.
Oh yeah! This is going to sound a bit sexist, but it is what it is. These days, it seems to be "anything goes" for language and other rights of free speech, etc. Still, it should be about respect. I don't need someone to open the door for me. All I want is for people to respect each other enough to love them for what they are. Nothing is ever what it seems. I cut someone off on the road 33 years ago. I didn't do it on purpose, but because my then-husband gave the other driver "the finger" from the passenger seat, we suddenly became the target of road rage. It got scary. Had the other driver been in the car, he would have understood. He wasn't. Is it no longer fashionable to give another person a break?? (My ex sure didn't help things.)
I am so thankful for all that I'm given. I live in the Transition Generation...between the Greatest Generation and the Me's. I've been around long enough to see how things have changed from my mother's struggles to keep a house together to the digital age. God bless those who have gone before. They paved the way for the rest of us to have it so easy!!
Hostess Gift.
Once upon a time, when someone went to visit another overnight, it was customary to take a gift for the hostess. It didn't have to be much...just a token of thanks for the hospitality. I don't think this is done anymore. Too bad! It was a nice custom.
Hankerchiefs.
Back when my parents were alive, if I happened to put on my mother's duster or my father's jacket, there was always, always a tissue in the pocket. I used to laugh about that, but I understand it now. My nose runs constantly. My car, my pockets, my house all have tissues everywhere. Don't remember my parents complaining about the nose thing, but they sure had the tissues! In my parents' generation, men carried handkerchiefs in their pockets. When Dad dressed, he put his wallet in his pocket, then his change from the dresser, then a clean hankie. In fact, hankies were always on the list for Christmas and/or Father's Day presents. When Kleenex tissues came along, more sanitary, etc., I think the notion of carrying a hankie became obsolete. But for those of you who read this blog and know I am a huge Dr. Phil fan, it always touches me when he has a weeping guest, reaches into his pocket, and produces a handkerchief for him/her to cry in. I love this.
Aprons.
Back in the days when laundry was only done once a week, protecting clothing was a big deal. I had play clothes and school clothes back then. When I got home from school, I was to change into play clothes and play shoes. I didn't see the reason for that. My mother did. She and my grandmother always wore aprons when cooking. Mom had a "duster" that she wore to protect her clothes from grease and other splatters. (Nowadays, we just use stain-spotters and throw the stuff in the laundry. Oh, how things have changed!) I don't own an apron. If I splash on my clothes, I just make sure they are pre-treated and throw them in the laundry. Thanksgiving is an example of that. I was pulling meat off the turkey carcass when a piece jerked off the bone and splashed grease all over my shirt. After laundry, the shirt is back to normal. :)
Social Courtesies.
Oh yeah! This is going to sound a bit sexist, but it is what it is. These days, it seems to be "anything goes" for language and other rights of free speech, etc. Still, it should be about respect. I don't need someone to open the door for me. All I want is for people to respect each other enough to love them for what they are. Nothing is ever what it seems. I cut someone off on the road 33 years ago. I didn't do it on purpose, but because my then-husband gave the other driver "the finger" from the passenger seat, we suddenly became the target of road rage. It got scary. Had the other driver been in the car, he would have understood. He wasn't. Is it no longer fashionable to give another person a break?? (My ex sure didn't help things.)
I am so thankful for all that I'm given. I live in the Transition Generation...between the Greatest Generation and the Me's. I've been around long enough to see how things have changed from my mother's struggles to keep a house together to the digital age. God bless those who have gone before. They paved the way for the rest of us to have it so easy!!
Monday, December 3, 2012
I Should Be Christmas Shopping...But...
I mentioned in my last post that I will be hosting the Russian in-laws for a few days. That caused me to turn a jaded eye on my house. Not a good thing! I have created a list of things that have needed to be done for a number of years, but now that I have a willing helper (see last post), maybe they will get done. We were supposed to start today. Unfortunately, my helper was up all night not feeling well, so we will plan for another start date.
I went out yesterday to purchase supplies for house-fixing. Had to go to my bank up on Rockville Road, so I went to Lowe's, just a couple of blocks down. I had quite a long list but aced out on everything! I came home, took a couple of measurements, and headed back out for Menard's in Camby. Got everything on my list there, except for bread and aspirin, but it took awhile. I was all over that store several times. I have to say that Lowe's has more customer service than Menard's, but Menard's seems to have a bigger selection of products. I spent about $70 with more to come (when I should be Christmas shopping) but I just look forward to having some things done!
Okay...so I understand that just having a clean and painted house is only cosmetic, but I also understand that if I were to try to sell this place right now, I would have to take less than it's worth because it needs so much help!! I won't be giving it up anytime soon, unless my health goes south. So many people live better than I...but ya know...it's all I need. (I did splurge and buy a lottery/powerball ticket last week. I gave in to the hype. Sue me!)
I've been cat-sitting for the past two weeks. Toffee has decided that I'm okay since I am the only other living thing in the house besides the house plant which has been put in the closet to save it from her... (It WAS on top of a high bookcase, but there is no place in the house that the cat can't go.) Megan worries that I will alienate the feline from her. Ha! This is a smart cat. She knows how to work all the angles. Her favorite place in the house to be is on Ryan's loft bed. I have no clue how she gets up there, but the only way down (in her estimation) is the Hail-Mary jump from the top. All is well. She will survive her stay at Grandma's. The question is, will Grandma survive??
I went out yesterday to purchase supplies for house-fixing. Had to go to my bank up on Rockville Road, so I went to Lowe's, just a couple of blocks down. I had quite a long list but aced out on everything! I came home, took a couple of measurements, and headed back out for Menard's in Camby. Got everything on my list there, except for bread and aspirin, but it took awhile. I was all over that store several times. I have to say that Lowe's has more customer service than Menard's, but Menard's seems to have a bigger selection of products. I spent about $70 with more to come (when I should be Christmas shopping) but I just look forward to having some things done!
Okay...so I understand that just having a clean and painted house is only cosmetic, but I also understand that if I were to try to sell this place right now, I would have to take less than it's worth because it needs so much help!! I won't be giving it up anytime soon, unless my health goes south. So many people live better than I...but ya know...it's all I need. (I did splurge and buy a lottery/powerball ticket last week. I gave in to the hype. Sue me!)
I've been cat-sitting for the past two weeks. Toffee has decided that I'm okay since I am the only other living thing in the house besides the house plant which has been put in the closet to save it from her... (It WAS on top of a high bookcase, but there is no place in the house that the cat can't go.) Megan worries that I will alienate the feline from her. Ha! This is a smart cat. She knows how to work all the angles. Her favorite place in the house to be is on Ryan's loft bed. I have no clue how she gets up there, but the only way down (in her estimation) is the Hail-Mary jump from the top. All is well. She will survive her stay at Grandma's. The question is, will Grandma survive??
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
So Long Since I Last Posted!
Life happens, ya know? Since my last post, I went up to my daughter's in Illinois for my grandson's 9th birthdaym then hosted 10 people at my house for Thanksgiving. As of this moment, I'm awaiting the re-arrival of my daughter and son-in-law for an overnight on their way to Florida. My grandkitty is in residence here while they are gone. She seems to be doing okay...
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have two weeks to prepare my house for "foreign" company. My son-in-law's parents will be staying with me for a few days without him (our translator) and I have to figure out what to do with them! The house is a disaster, due to my old age. I have a person primed to come assist me with things. He needs the money and I need the help! During this time, I will also need to do ALL of my Christmas shopping and have things primed for New Year's when we will all be back at my house. (If you have ever seen my place, you understand that four extra people is a houseful....but six will be horrific!)
I must backtrack a little here to Thanksgiving. Ryan got to play with his buddy Jack just a little bit. (Jack moved a few blocks away...too far to walk.) On T-Day, we squeezed ten people around an eight-person table in order to avoid a "children's table" in the living room...but I have to tell you that my grandchildren--BOTH of them--were absolute angels throughout. It had to be tough on Ryan, but his sister is totally civilized all of the time. I had asked that the children be responsible for the table grace. Robin got online and picked out a blessing that she read off her iPod at table. It was an excellent choice! God bless my grandchildren!
Present at our table were: me (of course), Megan and Denis, Robin and Ryan, the other set of grandparents (Judy and Phil Heffelman) and their son Dan, plus their other son (the children's father) and his wife (the children's stepmother). We ate well. No one had to send out for pizza after we were done!
On "Black Friday", instead of shopping, the family turned my kitchen into a candy factory! For 14 hours, confections of every sort were created to eat and give as gifts. Really, really good stuff! Saturday saw us putting up my Christmas tree. Sunday, of course, everyone departed. What a whirlwind!
Meanwhile, I am entertaining Meg's family cat while they all take their vacation to Florida. God bless the kitty-cat! She misses her family but has figured out that I am the mover and shaker in her world right now. We will do just fine.
Off to other endeavors. Family will be here very late tonight. I may need a nap in the meantime!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have two weeks to prepare my house for "foreign" company. My son-in-law's parents will be staying with me for a few days without him (our translator) and I have to figure out what to do with them! The house is a disaster, due to my old age. I have a person primed to come assist me with things. He needs the money and I need the help! During this time, I will also need to do ALL of my Christmas shopping and have things primed for New Year's when we will all be back at my house. (If you have ever seen my place, you understand that four extra people is a houseful....but six will be horrific!)
I must backtrack a little here to Thanksgiving. Ryan got to play with his buddy Jack just a little bit. (Jack moved a few blocks away...too far to walk.) On T-Day, we squeezed ten people around an eight-person table in order to avoid a "children's table" in the living room...but I have to tell you that my grandchildren--BOTH of them--were absolute angels throughout. It had to be tough on Ryan, but his sister is totally civilized all of the time. I had asked that the children be responsible for the table grace. Robin got online and picked out a blessing that she read off her iPod at table. It was an excellent choice! God bless my grandchildren!
Present at our table were: me (of course), Megan and Denis, Robin and Ryan, the other set of grandparents (Judy and Phil Heffelman) and their son Dan, plus their other son (the children's father) and his wife (the children's stepmother). We ate well. No one had to send out for pizza after we were done!
On "Black Friday", instead of shopping, the family turned my kitchen into a candy factory! For 14 hours, confections of every sort were created to eat and give as gifts. Really, really good stuff! Saturday saw us putting up my Christmas tree. Sunday, of course, everyone departed. What a whirlwind!
Meanwhile, I am entertaining Meg's family cat while they all take their vacation to Florida. God bless the kitty-cat! She misses her family but has figured out that I am the mover and shaker in her world right now. We will do just fine.
Off to other endeavors. Family will be here very late tonight. I may need a nap in the meantime!
Monday, November 5, 2012
Daylight Slaving Time
I'm convinced that we Americans are slaves to our clocks! Now that Indiana observes the time changes twice a year, from Standard Time to Daylight Savings Time and back again, the clocks have to be changed...and you don't really realize how many clocks are in your house until that happens.
I have a bunch. Since I had to be in church earlier than usual on Sunday, I wanted to make sure I had the right time before I went to bed on Saturday. But it gets confusing. Here is my quest to establish correct time:
*My wristwatch--battery went dead a couple of weeks ago and I haven't taken it to be replaced yet. Couldn't change or rely on that.
*Two clocks in the garage room. One is "radio controlled" but doesn't go with the time changes unless it is programmed to do that. I apparently haven't done that because it didn't change. (Yes, I do have the manual to figure it out.) The other is a clock with a switch to change DST to ST. *Click* Done!
*The clock on the microwave--easy change. Done!
*The clock over the stove that my mother made so many years ago--never changed last spring so it is still on ST. No problem.
*The analog clock in the living room that my daughter made in junior high--never was changed last spring, so it is still on ST. No problem.
*Digital clock in my bedroom...the crucial one...didn't get changed on Saturday night. Thus, when I was looking at it on Sunday morning while deciding if it was time to get up yet, I was subracting an hour in my head. Then, because I was already awake, I happened to change channels on TV and noticed that the time on the clock was the same on the TV. Huh?? I hadn't remembered that the clock in that bedroom changes automatically, and I only had an hour to get my rear up and get to church!
*Digital clock in my car--pushed a button and got the time changed quickly. (This is always a problem when I am in IL and my family is checking the car clock for time limits when we are out and about. I'm on IN time. They are always relieved to find out that it isn't as late in the day as they thought!)
So...as it stands right now, the only clock that isn't on the right time is the radio controlled clock in the garage room. I'll work on fixing that! Heck...I'm retired! What difference does an hour make????
I have a bunch. Since I had to be in church earlier than usual on Sunday, I wanted to make sure I had the right time before I went to bed on Saturday. But it gets confusing. Here is my quest to establish correct time:
*My wristwatch--battery went dead a couple of weeks ago and I haven't taken it to be replaced yet. Couldn't change or rely on that.
*Two clocks in the garage room. One is "radio controlled" but doesn't go with the time changes unless it is programmed to do that. I apparently haven't done that because it didn't change. (Yes, I do have the manual to figure it out.) The other is a clock with a switch to change DST to ST. *Click* Done!
*The clock on the microwave--easy change. Done!
*The clock over the stove that my mother made so many years ago--never changed last spring so it is still on ST. No problem.
*The analog clock in the living room that my daughter made in junior high--never was changed last spring, so it is still on ST. No problem.
*Digital clock in my bedroom...the crucial one...didn't get changed on Saturday night. Thus, when I was looking at it on Sunday morning while deciding if it was time to get up yet, I was subracting an hour in my head. Then, because I was already awake, I happened to change channels on TV and noticed that the time on the clock was the same on the TV. Huh?? I hadn't remembered that the clock in that bedroom changes automatically, and I only had an hour to get my rear up and get to church!
*Digital clock in my car--pushed a button and got the time changed quickly. (This is always a problem when I am in IL and my family is checking the car clock for time limits when we are out and about. I'm on IN time. They are always relieved to find out that it isn't as late in the day as they thought!)
So...as it stands right now, the only clock that isn't on the right time is the radio controlled clock in the garage room. I'll work on fixing that! Heck...I'm retired! What difference does an hour make????
Sunday, November 4, 2012
God Is So Good!
I don't know where to start in telling my stories of the week and have the words convey what is in my heart. I'll just do the best I can and hope for the best.
I have written many times about how much I love my church. The music...the pastors...the friendship of The Faithful--all contribute to the reason that I drag myself out of bed early on Sunday mornings to attend the first service, then stay for Sunday School. It is the one time all week that I can concentrate on my relationship with God. I fall pretty short in that department, which is why I NEED to be in church each week.
When I first started attending Sunday School about three years ago, I was broken. Things at home had fallen apart. Several times in class, when it came time to share "joys and concerns", I just sat and blubbered about my troubles, and they listened in sympathy and love. Then, as I slowly began to recover, I could be more of an active member rather than just a needy sponge, soaking up every little bit of emotional help I could get. I have come to see my SS class--a bunch of retired old folks like me--as a lifeline to share the stresses of the days. In short, they have become friends.
I don't do much at church. I sometimes help with the homeless feeding mission. I volunteer for bereavement dinners for folks that I know. I attend some functions and help with some functions, and I make some phone calls for our Angel Tree mission at Christmas. I teach class during a yearly quarter when it is my team's turn. I pay on my pledge each week. I do what I can, but I have been very careful not to commit to anything that I feared I wouldn't be able to follow through on... (The couple that leads our SS class is everywhere, doing so much that it makes me feel guilty!) Anyway, I'm trying to build an atmosphere with this, so far, so you can understand what comes next.
I am friends with many former students on Facebook, most of whom are now adults raising families of their own. A couple of years ago, I got wind that one of them was in a tight money-pinch and didn't have the funds to feed her kids until a disability check came in. (Long story.) Anyway, I met them in Mooresville, gave them two bags of groceries and $50 just to tie them over. She is married with four children--her two and his two, both from previous relationships. He is disabled and she almost is... The children are pretty bright and doing fairly well in school. This school year, they moved to Plainfield. They don't have much, but they seem to be as happy as can be.
For this Christmas, my daughter told me that she and her family decided to buy for another family instead of spending so much on themselves. She asked me if I had a source of names of people who needed help. I immediately thought of this family, but hadn't talked to Amy for a long time, so didn't know how they were doing. I ran into the church secretary in the grocery store and asked if we had a list of families in need of help. She said no list...just a recommendation, if asked. She also told me that the Family Ministries Fund is in the hole right now. Bummer! And just as I was getting up the courage to contact my former student (Amy) to see how they were faring, she contacted me! She was asking if I knew of somewhere that would provide her husband with a winter coat and some warm pants. (He had cut his off over the hot summer...and hasn't had a winter coat for years.)
I met Amy and husband the next day (Friday). We tried Goodwill. Nothing that would fit him. (He's a BIG boy!) We tried Walmart. No jackets that would fit him, but we were able to get him four pairs of sweatpants, a hooded cardigan sweatshirt, plus hats/gloves for the whole family. Then we moved to Aldi's where we filled a cart with things that they can't get from a food pantry--meats, dairy, and other perishables, plus TP, laundry detergent, dish detergent, and the like. I sent them home happy, but without that winter coat. I told them I would keep an eye out to see what could be done.
This morning (Sunday) I was scheduled to help serve Communion during the early service. Have never done that before. In our church, the congregants come to the front in lines to receive the bread, then dip in in the cup, then return to their pews. In the midst of that, it hit me that I was handing "the Body of Christ, given for you" to the faithful...and I puddled up. Oh, no! I can't cry now!!!! I managed to keep it under control, but I felt so totally honored to be doing that. It is one of the few sacraments in the life of the church...and I was helping! And while I was doing that, the choir was singing the recently-found "lost" song of Beethoven--probably the first time the song has been performed in the US! What a rush!!!
At the end of the service, as I was leaving the sanctuary, a female member of the choir came up behind me, touched me on the back, and said, "I can see that you love to sing. I invite you to join the choir for our Christmas Eve service." Wow! I explained to the gal that I do, indeed, love to sing but that my once-solo-quality voice is now GONE, and that this Christmas's schedule looks like I will be north of Chicago for Christmas Eve. Still, it was nice to know that someone noticed my gusto in singing...(unless my friends Judy and/or Phil, who sing in the choir, put her up to it)!
On to my Sunday School class. When it came time to express "joys and concerns", I asked for help in figuring out where to find a 4XL jacket for the father of the family that I was trying to help. I told the class about the little voices on my shoulder--one that kept saying things like, "Your grandson's birthday is coming up. Thanksgiving is coming. Christmas is coming. Your car will break down. You are going to wish you had this money back"...and the other that kept saying, "You helped four children today. This could be your daughter, your family." Several suggestions came out of the whole conversation. Then, at the end of class, one of the guys who sits at the other side of the table came over to me and handed me $60 that several fellows over there put together for me to find a jacket for James. I was floored! I hadn't asked, but God had provided!
As soon as I ate some lunch after church, I went in search of a coat with $60 cash in my pocket. Kohl's had nothing bigger than 2XL. Same thing with Target. I was about to go to Penney's when I decided to try the new Burlington Coat Factory in town. Bingo! They had 4XLs and even a limited selection of 5XLs. I bought a fairly nice jacket for $50+tax and hoped to God that it would fit. Arrangements were quickly made to meet James and family just down the street from me...and the jacket fit!!! He was SO very grateful to have something warm! I think it was said that he hadn't had a decent winter jacket in five years because "the kids always need things". (Oh, how I understand that!)
I guess my lesson for the day is that God provides. Ask, and you shall receive. I just feel so honored and humbled...and happy that I, with the help of others, made a difference in a few lives this week. I accept that I can't do this every day because my resources are limited, but just for today, I feel good!
I have written many times about how much I love my church. The music...the pastors...the friendship of The Faithful--all contribute to the reason that I drag myself out of bed early on Sunday mornings to attend the first service, then stay for Sunday School. It is the one time all week that I can concentrate on my relationship with God. I fall pretty short in that department, which is why I NEED to be in church each week.
When I first started attending Sunday School about three years ago, I was broken. Things at home had fallen apart. Several times in class, when it came time to share "joys and concerns", I just sat and blubbered about my troubles, and they listened in sympathy and love. Then, as I slowly began to recover, I could be more of an active member rather than just a needy sponge, soaking up every little bit of emotional help I could get. I have come to see my SS class--a bunch of retired old folks like me--as a lifeline to share the stresses of the days. In short, they have become friends.
I don't do much at church. I sometimes help with the homeless feeding mission. I volunteer for bereavement dinners for folks that I know. I attend some functions and help with some functions, and I make some phone calls for our Angel Tree mission at Christmas. I teach class during a yearly quarter when it is my team's turn. I pay on my pledge each week. I do what I can, but I have been very careful not to commit to anything that I feared I wouldn't be able to follow through on... (The couple that leads our SS class is everywhere, doing so much that it makes me feel guilty!) Anyway, I'm trying to build an atmosphere with this, so far, so you can understand what comes next.
I am friends with many former students on Facebook, most of whom are now adults raising families of their own. A couple of years ago, I got wind that one of them was in a tight money-pinch and didn't have the funds to feed her kids until a disability check came in. (Long story.) Anyway, I met them in Mooresville, gave them two bags of groceries and $50 just to tie them over. She is married with four children--her two and his two, both from previous relationships. He is disabled and she almost is... The children are pretty bright and doing fairly well in school. This school year, they moved to Plainfield. They don't have much, but they seem to be as happy as can be.
For this Christmas, my daughter told me that she and her family decided to buy for another family instead of spending so much on themselves. She asked me if I had a source of names of people who needed help. I immediately thought of this family, but hadn't talked to Amy for a long time, so didn't know how they were doing. I ran into the church secretary in the grocery store and asked if we had a list of families in need of help. She said no list...just a recommendation, if asked. She also told me that the Family Ministries Fund is in the hole right now. Bummer! And just as I was getting up the courage to contact my former student (Amy) to see how they were faring, she contacted me! She was asking if I knew of somewhere that would provide her husband with a winter coat and some warm pants. (He had cut his off over the hot summer...and hasn't had a winter coat for years.)
I met Amy and husband the next day (Friday). We tried Goodwill. Nothing that would fit him. (He's a BIG boy!) We tried Walmart. No jackets that would fit him, but we were able to get him four pairs of sweatpants, a hooded cardigan sweatshirt, plus hats/gloves for the whole family. Then we moved to Aldi's where we filled a cart with things that they can't get from a food pantry--meats, dairy, and other perishables, plus TP, laundry detergent, dish detergent, and the like. I sent them home happy, but without that winter coat. I told them I would keep an eye out to see what could be done.
This morning (Sunday) I was scheduled to help serve Communion during the early service. Have never done that before. In our church, the congregants come to the front in lines to receive the bread, then dip in in the cup, then return to their pews. In the midst of that, it hit me that I was handing "the Body of Christ, given for you" to the faithful...and I puddled up. Oh, no! I can't cry now!!!! I managed to keep it under control, but I felt so totally honored to be doing that. It is one of the few sacraments in the life of the church...and I was helping! And while I was doing that, the choir was singing the recently-found "lost" song of Beethoven--probably the first time the song has been performed in the US! What a rush!!!
At the end of the service, as I was leaving the sanctuary, a female member of the choir came up behind me, touched me on the back, and said, "I can see that you love to sing. I invite you to join the choir for our Christmas Eve service." Wow! I explained to the gal that I do, indeed, love to sing but that my once-solo-quality voice is now GONE, and that this Christmas's schedule looks like I will be north of Chicago for Christmas Eve. Still, it was nice to know that someone noticed my gusto in singing...(unless my friends Judy and/or Phil, who sing in the choir, put her up to it)!
On to my Sunday School class. When it came time to express "joys and concerns", I asked for help in figuring out where to find a 4XL jacket for the father of the family that I was trying to help. I told the class about the little voices on my shoulder--one that kept saying things like, "Your grandson's birthday is coming up. Thanksgiving is coming. Christmas is coming. Your car will break down. You are going to wish you had this money back"...and the other that kept saying, "You helped four children today. This could be your daughter, your family." Several suggestions came out of the whole conversation. Then, at the end of class, one of the guys who sits at the other side of the table came over to me and handed me $60 that several fellows over there put together for me to find a jacket for James. I was floored! I hadn't asked, but God had provided!
As soon as I ate some lunch after church, I went in search of a coat with $60 cash in my pocket. Kohl's had nothing bigger than 2XL. Same thing with Target. I was about to go to Penney's when I decided to try the new Burlington Coat Factory in town. Bingo! They had 4XLs and even a limited selection of 5XLs. I bought a fairly nice jacket for $50+tax and hoped to God that it would fit. Arrangements were quickly made to meet James and family just down the street from me...and the jacket fit!!! He was SO very grateful to have something warm! I think it was said that he hadn't had a decent winter jacket in five years because "the kids always need things". (Oh, how I understand that!)
I guess my lesson for the day is that God provides. Ask, and you shall receive. I just feel so honored and humbled...and happy that I, with the help of others, made a difference in a few lives this week. I accept that I can't do this every day because my resources are limited, but just for today, I feel good!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Freedom of Speech??
As Americans, we are guaranteed the right to speak our minds without political repercussions. And, since it is an election year, many are speaking their minds with a vengeance! Yes, dear fellow Americans, feel free to vent whatever venom you want to expel, but now it is time to understand that there are consequences for that.
Politicians have been falling like flies for things that come out of their mouths. The death of an American ambassador in the Middle East has been blamed on some Internet post that some hapless citizen posted, because he could. Boys and girls, the world is a MUCH smaller place than it once was. You are NOT free to offend the rest of the world unless you have the power to defend what you do...and unless you have the permission of the Federal Government to do it, you are on your own!
This is one of the reasons that amateur radio operators have to pass tests in order to talk all over the world. There is a responsibility that comes with being leaders of the civilized world. I you represent the USA, you'd better talk like you represent the USA!!
Some poor redneck of a guy in the Indy area decided to exercise his right to free speech by hanging President Obama in effigy in his yard. Now, he has had to put his family in hiding due to threats. What did he expect? That the world would beat a pathway to his door????
Another person...the mega-Christian owner of Chick-fil-A restaurants...shot his mouth off about how he didn't support gay marriage. The backlash from that was both negative and positive. People who never ate at their establishment before ate there to show their support, while gay people--even employees--all over the country, drew back.
Then, too, there is the flack from the candidate for Representative in the state of Indiana who said that he didn't support abortion in the case of rape because it was "a life that God intended to happen". I am 100% sure that he meant that...felt it from the marrow of his Christian bones...but seems not to know how offensive it sounds to victims of rape and women in general. He backtracked without apologizing. Only election day will determine who bought it and who didn't.
I am a Christian, too, but sometimes I am at a loss to throw in with these people. We are criticized for being too "politically correct". Okay...DON'T be polically correct and see how many friends you make! Speak your mind because you have the right to, but don't come crying to me if other people don't agree with you!
John Wilkes Booth, who killed President Lincoln, was shocked that he was hunted down like a dog when he THOUGHT he was doing the country a favor by assassinating what HE thought was a tyrant. Unbridled freedom of speech leads to other assumptions of unbridled freedoms. Wake up, Americans! The rest of the world doesn't care squat about our freedoms! It's time to cut our losses and act like the supposed civilize society that we pretend to be!
Politicians have been falling like flies for things that come out of their mouths. The death of an American ambassador in the Middle East has been blamed on some Internet post that some hapless citizen posted, because he could. Boys and girls, the world is a MUCH smaller place than it once was. You are NOT free to offend the rest of the world unless you have the power to defend what you do...and unless you have the permission of the Federal Government to do it, you are on your own!
This is one of the reasons that amateur radio operators have to pass tests in order to talk all over the world. There is a responsibility that comes with being leaders of the civilized world. I you represent the USA, you'd better talk like you represent the USA!!
Some poor redneck of a guy in the Indy area decided to exercise his right to free speech by hanging President Obama in effigy in his yard. Now, he has had to put his family in hiding due to threats. What did he expect? That the world would beat a pathway to his door????
Another person...the mega-Christian owner of Chick-fil-A restaurants...shot his mouth off about how he didn't support gay marriage. The backlash from that was both negative and positive. People who never ate at their establishment before ate there to show their support, while gay people--even employees--all over the country, drew back.
Then, too, there is the flack from the candidate for Representative in the state of Indiana who said that he didn't support abortion in the case of rape because it was "a life that God intended to happen". I am 100% sure that he meant that...felt it from the marrow of his Christian bones...but seems not to know how offensive it sounds to victims of rape and women in general. He backtracked without apologizing. Only election day will determine who bought it and who didn't.
I am a Christian, too, but sometimes I am at a loss to throw in with these people. We are criticized for being too "politically correct". Okay...DON'T be polically correct and see how many friends you make! Speak your mind because you have the right to, but don't come crying to me if other people don't agree with you!
John Wilkes Booth, who killed President Lincoln, was shocked that he was hunted down like a dog when he THOUGHT he was doing the country a favor by assassinating what HE thought was a tyrant. Unbridled freedom of speech leads to other assumptions of unbridled freedoms. Wake up, Americans! The rest of the world doesn't care squat about our freedoms! It's time to cut our losses and act like the supposed civilize society that we pretend to be!
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Ghastly Stories
I have some scary stories to write today, having to do with Halloween. However, when I got to thinking about them, I remembered that only one of them actually has anything to do with Halloween, but I'm going to write about them, anyway.
As you may or may not know, I was married to a secondary school principal for a lot of years. (That, in itself, is scary enough!) And although we never had too many problems with property damage due to student mischief, we were always on the alert--especially around Halloween. Joe knew what to look for since he had done his share of mischief as a kid...
First Story (Pontiac, IL, mid-1980s):
We were all in our house in the evening. Joe was still wearing his bike tights, having been on a ride a bit earlier in the day. It was dark out. Suddenly, someone pounded on our kitchen window, which was at the back of the house, scaring me and causing our young daughter's eyes to get big as saucers. Joe launched out the front door on a sprint, chasing down the culprits. Next thing I knew, he had tackled one of them and had him on the ground, pounding the kid's head into the grass. The kid was yelling, "Stop! It's me, Mr. McNary! It's so-and-so!" Sure enough, it was a student who thought he would be cute by scaring us--soon to learn that ol' Mr. McNary still had enough youth and strength in him to outrun a junior high kid and beat the tar out of him! As soon as Joe figured out who it was, he let up. The kid wasn't hurt, but he sure was startled...and I guess he figured out (and probably passed the word) that it was NOT a good idea to mess around at McNary's house. (I still get a chuckle out of a man in tights chasing after a teenager...and winning!)
Second Story (Cloverdale, IN, early 1990s):
At 2:00 in the morning, we were fast asleep. The phone rang. (When the phone rings in the middle of the night, it's never good news.) Joe answered. I listened as he said, "Oh. Okay. Where?" Then he hung up and rolled over. I asked, "What was that all about?" His response: "Bomb threat at the school." He didn't get up. He didn't call the police. He went back to sleep! In the morning, school went on as usual. The telephone company (which was practically in our back yard, and the president of which was Joe's secretary's husband) provided the record of whom had called, and before the day was out, the police arrested the kid who did it.
Obviously, the would-be bomber was trying to disrupt Old Man McNary's night. Little did he know that NOTHING comes between Ol' Man McNary and his slumber! Perhaps the kid thought Joe would get up and go to the school to throw his body between the building and the bomb. Didn't happen! Considering all of the serious school happening in the years since then, Joe could have been severely criticized had something bad happened, but in those days, there was more common sense. I just thought the whole thing was amusing. Principal-1; Students-0! Loved it!
Third Story (Cloverdale, IN, late 1980s in a rental home):
Halloween night. OOOoooooOOOOOh! Considering that some young student Lochinvar had painted "McNary is a dick" on the road near our house, we were especially alert on this, our first Halloween in Indiana. The mailbox was on a post at the road, just a few yards from the front door, but there were shrubs that almost hid the front steps--especially in the dark. That evening, Joe sat on the steps, just observing the trick-or-treaters and handing out some candy, as needed. At one point, a very noisy clunker of a car drove by, hesitated, and bounced a pumpkin off the mailbox, denting it badly and smashing the pumpkin into bits. Then it roared off. Joe didn't say anything when he came in except that he knew who did it. Cloverdale isn't that big a town. He had done enough parking lot duty at the end of each school day to be able to recognize who drove what car and how it sounded. The next day, he did a little detective work, and sure enough had caught the culprit red-handed. Then end result was that he told the kids responsible that he would not call the police or their parents IF they worked off a punishment. For the next two Saturdays, there were two kids raking leaves and cleaning up our yard. No further repercussions. I was in awe of his ability to handle that kind of stuff.
Joe and I split up probably less than two years after the two Cloverdale stories. There was no love lost between us when it happened, for a lot of reasons, but these events always reminded me that it wasn't ALL bad. Sometimes, his deviousness resulted in little victories!
I guess the real message is that you can't con a con! And we in the education field have to work hard to stay one step ahead of the students. Joe always could. I eventually figured it out.
Happy Halloween, y'all. (And Happy Birthday to my brother who is in Heaven...or wherever he ended up!)
As you may or may not know, I was married to a secondary school principal for a lot of years. (That, in itself, is scary enough!) And although we never had too many problems with property damage due to student mischief, we were always on the alert--especially around Halloween. Joe knew what to look for since he had done his share of mischief as a kid...
First Story (Pontiac, IL, mid-1980s):
We were all in our house in the evening. Joe was still wearing his bike tights, having been on a ride a bit earlier in the day. It was dark out. Suddenly, someone pounded on our kitchen window, which was at the back of the house, scaring me and causing our young daughter's eyes to get big as saucers. Joe launched out the front door on a sprint, chasing down the culprits. Next thing I knew, he had tackled one of them and had him on the ground, pounding the kid's head into the grass. The kid was yelling, "Stop! It's me, Mr. McNary! It's so-and-so!" Sure enough, it was a student who thought he would be cute by scaring us--soon to learn that ol' Mr. McNary still had enough youth and strength in him to outrun a junior high kid and beat the tar out of him! As soon as Joe figured out who it was, he let up. The kid wasn't hurt, but he sure was startled...and I guess he figured out (and probably passed the word) that it was NOT a good idea to mess around at McNary's house. (I still get a chuckle out of a man in tights chasing after a teenager...and winning!)
Second Story (Cloverdale, IN, early 1990s):
At 2:00 in the morning, we were fast asleep. The phone rang. (When the phone rings in the middle of the night, it's never good news.) Joe answered. I listened as he said, "Oh. Okay. Where?" Then he hung up and rolled over. I asked, "What was that all about?" His response: "Bomb threat at the school." He didn't get up. He didn't call the police. He went back to sleep! In the morning, school went on as usual. The telephone company (which was practically in our back yard, and the president of which was Joe's secretary's husband) provided the record of whom had called, and before the day was out, the police arrested the kid who did it.
Obviously, the would-be bomber was trying to disrupt Old Man McNary's night. Little did he know that NOTHING comes between Ol' Man McNary and his slumber! Perhaps the kid thought Joe would get up and go to the school to throw his body between the building and the bomb. Didn't happen! Considering all of the serious school happening in the years since then, Joe could have been severely criticized had something bad happened, but in those days, there was more common sense. I just thought the whole thing was amusing. Principal-1; Students-0! Loved it!
Third Story (Cloverdale, IN, late 1980s in a rental home):
Halloween night. OOOoooooOOOOOh! Considering that some young student Lochinvar had painted "McNary is a dick" on the road near our house, we were especially alert on this, our first Halloween in Indiana. The mailbox was on a post at the road, just a few yards from the front door, but there were shrubs that almost hid the front steps--especially in the dark. That evening, Joe sat on the steps, just observing the trick-or-treaters and handing out some candy, as needed. At one point, a very noisy clunker of a car drove by, hesitated, and bounced a pumpkin off the mailbox, denting it badly and smashing the pumpkin into bits. Then it roared off. Joe didn't say anything when he came in except that he knew who did it. Cloverdale isn't that big a town. He had done enough parking lot duty at the end of each school day to be able to recognize who drove what car and how it sounded. The next day, he did a little detective work, and sure enough had caught the culprit red-handed. Then end result was that he told the kids responsible that he would not call the police or their parents IF they worked off a punishment. For the next two Saturdays, there were two kids raking leaves and cleaning up our yard. No further repercussions. I was in awe of his ability to handle that kind of stuff.
Joe and I split up probably less than two years after the two Cloverdale stories. There was no love lost between us when it happened, for a lot of reasons, but these events always reminded me that it wasn't ALL bad. Sometimes, his deviousness resulted in little victories!
I guess the real message is that you can't con a con! And we in the education field have to work hard to stay one step ahead of the students. Joe always could. I eventually figured it out.
Happy Halloween, y'all. (And Happy Birthday to my brother who is in Heaven...or wherever he ended up!)
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Sisters
I saw a Dr. Phil show recently (what else?!) that had to do with a couple of feuding sisters. (Actually, he has aired lots of shows on the same subject over the years.) I watched with interest because 100% of these feuding sisters are adults who apparently harbor ill-feeling or competition from the past. LONG past. What's up with that??
I've come to the conclusion that it must be closeness in age that causes these things, or emotional insecurity. My nieces--both in their 50s now--fight. They are 11 months apart in age. Two sets of feuding sisters on Dr. Phil were actually twins. Perhaps this closeness in years creates a competition for parental attention that I don't understand. I just don't get it.
My parents had four children. Shari was first. Then Barbara, who died in a tragic home accident as a toddler. Then me. Then our baby brother, Doug. There were six years and three months between Shari and me, and six years and seven months between Doug and me, making a whopping almost-thirteen years between Shari and Doug. (When he was born, Shari was his "little mother". I just thought he was a pesky little brother.) Doug died, stubborn and young, a number of years ago, leaving Shari and I all that is left of our family constellation. Does that matter? You betcha!
Shari got married and started her family back when I was in 8th grade. Everything changed then, of course...but rest assured, we had our problems before that. We got into trouble together in our younger years (always HER fault, of course!), and fought like sisters later. There was even one occasion, when our parents were gone and we were old enough to know better, that we got into a knock-down, drag-out physical fight. I was shocked at my behavior, and I think Shari was shocked at hers. We totally disappointed our parents. Neither Shari nor I ever apologized to each other then. We accepted that it was over and moved on. I can't even remember what the argument was over...
Through our marriage-and-child-bearing years, we had a number of experiences that brought us together (family holidays, years at the Indy 500, boat excursions and fun in the sun), and a couple that pulled us apart (usually related to our respective husbands rather than us), but here we are in old age, propping each other up as best we can by long distance. Shari, the recipient of the good family genes, still looks like a million bucks. I...well...not so much. She envies my independence. I envy her financial stability. Yet, I don't think either one of us would trade places. If all things were equal, we could...but all things aren't equal. Only God knows what the future brings for us.
Here is what I know for sure: my sister and I share some things that no one else can understand. Memories of our parents and grandparents...the family farm...the Navy years and how it affected us...the strength of our mother and grandmother that has made us strong. (Strength isn't necessarily fun, but it is who we are, by default.) Our struggles as wives and mothers and grandmothers--and, in her case, great-grandmothers. We have always provided each other a theoretical escape route from reality. I always know that I have a non-judging ear in her, and she in me. Whatever happens, we both know that our doors are open to each other...no questions asked. Who would a-thunk it?
God bless you, Shari, if you read this. If you get to Heaven before I do, save me a place at the dinner table with Baba and Popo, Mom and Dad, and Doug and Barbie for me. If I get there first, I will send the maitre-d' to ask if you have a reservation! (Wink!)
I've come to the conclusion that it must be closeness in age that causes these things, or emotional insecurity. My nieces--both in their 50s now--fight. They are 11 months apart in age. Two sets of feuding sisters on Dr. Phil were actually twins. Perhaps this closeness in years creates a competition for parental attention that I don't understand. I just don't get it.
My parents had four children. Shari was first. Then Barbara, who died in a tragic home accident as a toddler. Then me. Then our baby brother, Doug. There were six years and three months between Shari and me, and six years and seven months between Doug and me, making a whopping almost-thirteen years between Shari and Doug. (When he was born, Shari was his "little mother". I just thought he was a pesky little brother.) Doug died, stubborn and young, a number of years ago, leaving Shari and I all that is left of our family constellation. Does that matter? You betcha!
Shari got married and started her family back when I was in 8th grade. Everything changed then, of course...but rest assured, we had our problems before that. We got into trouble together in our younger years (always HER fault, of course!), and fought like sisters later. There was even one occasion, when our parents were gone and we were old enough to know better, that we got into a knock-down, drag-out physical fight. I was shocked at my behavior, and I think Shari was shocked at hers. We totally disappointed our parents. Neither Shari nor I ever apologized to each other then. We accepted that it was over and moved on. I can't even remember what the argument was over...
Through our marriage-and-child-bearing years, we had a number of experiences that brought us together (family holidays, years at the Indy 500, boat excursions and fun in the sun), and a couple that pulled us apart (usually related to our respective husbands rather than us), but here we are in old age, propping each other up as best we can by long distance. Shari, the recipient of the good family genes, still looks like a million bucks. I...well...not so much. She envies my independence. I envy her financial stability. Yet, I don't think either one of us would trade places. If all things were equal, we could...but all things aren't equal. Only God knows what the future brings for us.
Here is what I know for sure: my sister and I share some things that no one else can understand. Memories of our parents and grandparents...the family farm...the Navy years and how it affected us...the strength of our mother and grandmother that has made us strong. (Strength isn't necessarily fun, but it is who we are, by default.) Our struggles as wives and mothers and grandmothers--and, in her case, great-grandmothers. We have always provided each other a theoretical escape route from reality. I always know that I have a non-judging ear in her, and she in me. Whatever happens, we both know that our doors are open to each other...no questions asked. Who would a-thunk it?
God bless you, Shari, if you read this. If you get to Heaven before I do, save me a place at the dinner table with Baba and Popo, Mom and Dad, and Doug and Barbie for me. If I get there first, I will send the maitre-d' to ask if you have a reservation! (Wink!)
Friday, October 26, 2012
Politics Be Damned!
I am going to write this tonight in the hopes that it will satisfy my need to be heard before I make a total fool of myself on Facebook.
We are only a couple of weeks before the Presidential election. Both parties are pulling out all of the stops at the last minute in the hope of influencing people who are undecided. People who actually think for themselves can see the politics and the intent, but people who don't can be influenced.
One of my personal passions is the way women are treated by the Republican Party. These are the conservatives among us...the Christians...those who claim to be the only defenders of offenses to the Constitution. They are anti-abortion, claiming that the Bible gives them the right to defend the rights of the unborn, even in the case of rape and incest. The candidates are stepping all over themselves in droves, these days, and it troubles me. One fellow named Akins made some inane statement about how the female body has a way of shutting down and not allowing a raped woman to become pregnant. Another, in my very own state of Indiana, claimed that he was against abortion in the case of rape/incest because, even though rape was deplorable, if a woman becomes pregnant due to that rape, it is a life that God intended to happen. That announcement means, to him, that the woman should be required to carry a rape baby to term because life is sacred--his religious belief.
Well, good for him! I respect his opinion. Really, I do! I just don't want him to represent me in government. And here's why: The last time I looked, the laws of the Constitution were not written to cover THREE sets of citizens--men, women, and pregnant women. We, as a country, cannot discriminate against pregnant women, requiring them to carry a fetus/baby to term, unless we also require men and non-pregnant women to submit to reproductive laws, as well. We are not permitted to require mandatory sterilization of pedophiles and rapists or women who have a zillion kids just to take advantage of welfare. I don't even like the overtones of that.
Like Mr. Mourdock (the candidate who goofed up), I also believe that life begins at conception. No doubt about that. But when does that life begin to have American rights? Certainly not until that fetus/baby is capable of living outside the womb. (Third trimester of pregnancy.) If we do our research about stages of gestation, a fetus in the very early weeks of pregnancy just looks like a chicken embryo. As it grows, features develop. A beating heart does NOT mean that the organism feels or thinks. Abortion in the early weeks is like stepping on a bug. (Sorry about the analogy, but true.) Loved and wanted and nurtured, the unborn becomes a baby that is born into a family...whatever that means. Conceived in incest or rape--or any other negative situation-- the mother should not be required to carry a fetus to term, by law. And the laws that determine that should NOT be made by men without female representation!!!! We simply cannot make legal decisions that legislate morality and still have separation of church and state. I am a Christian, but (for the second time in my life) I am embarrassed to be thrown in the same category as these folks.
I have other reasons not to vote Republican this year, but this one is the biggest for me. My child is female, and I have a female grandchild. I don't like the notion that abortion is a viable option for contraception, but I also don't like the notion that the option would be taken away (again) by a male-driven society. God forbid that my girls should ever need an abortion...but it should be their right, should they find themselves in the situation of an unwanted pregnancy!
Men impregnate women on a regular basis, then abandon their responsibilities when they become pregnant. The African-American community is full of this...but there is a whole culture of whites who are also in the same boat. Let's get real about parental responsibility. Until the Republicans are willing to DO something about the number of unwanted children who are abandoned, raised in poverty, sent off to foster care, etc., they should NOT be standing on the platform of the sanctity of life. Have they been in inner cities lately? No...probably not. Unless it is to grab an unwelcome photo op of washing dishes at a soup kitchen, as the Republican VP candidate did lately, risking the donations to the place. Don't get me started on that!!!!
We are only a couple of weeks before the Presidential election. Both parties are pulling out all of the stops at the last minute in the hope of influencing people who are undecided. People who actually think for themselves can see the politics and the intent, but people who don't can be influenced.
One of my personal passions is the way women are treated by the Republican Party. These are the conservatives among us...the Christians...those who claim to be the only defenders of offenses to the Constitution. They are anti-abortion, claiming that the Bible gives them the right to defend the rights of the unborn, even in the case of rape and incest. The candidates are stepping all over themselves in droves, these days, and it troubles me. One fellow named Akins made some inane statement about how the female body has a way of shutting down and not allowing a raped woman to become pregnant. Another, in my very own state of Indiana, claimed that he was against abortion in the case of rape/incest because, even though rape was deplorable, if a woman becomes pregnant due to that rape, it is a life that God intended to happen. That announcement means, to him, that the woman should be required to carry a rape baby to term because life is sacred--his religious belief.
Well, good for him! I respect his opinion. Really, I do! I just don't want him to represent me in government. And here's why: The last time I looked, the laws of the Constitution were not written to cover THREE sets of citizens--men, women, and pregnant women. We, as a country, cannot discriminate against pregnant women, requiring them to carry a fetus/baby to term, unless we also require men and non-pregnant women to submit to reproductive laws, as well. We are not permitted to require mandatory sterilization of pedophiles and rapists or women who have a zillion kids just to take advantage of welfare. I don't even like the overtones of that.
Like Mr. Mourdock (the candidate who goofed up), I also believe that life begins at conception. No doubt about that. But when does that life begin to have American rights? Certainly not until that fetus/baby is capable of living outside the womb. (Third trimester of pregnancy.) If we do our research about stages of gestation, a fetus in the very early weeks of pregnancy just looks like a chicken embryo. As it grows, features develop. A beating heart does NOT mean that the organism feels or thinks. Abortion in the early weeks is like stepping on a bug. (Sorry about the analogy, but true.) Loved and wanted and nurtured, the unborn becomes a baby that is born into a family...whatever that means. Conceived in incest or rape--or any other negative situation-- the mother should not be required to carry a fetus to term, by law. And the laws that determine that should NOT be made by men without female representation!!!! We simply cannot make legal decisions that legislate morality and still have separation of church and state. I am a Christian, but (for the second time in my life) I am embarrassed to be thrown in the same category as these folks.
I have other reasons not to vote Republican this year, but this one is the biggest for me. My child is female, and I have a female grandchild. I don't like the notion that abortion is a viable option for contraception, but I also don't like the notion that the option would be taken away (again) by a male-driven society. God forbid that my girls should ever need an abortion...but it should be their right, should they find themselves in the situation of an unwanted pregnancy!
Men impregnate women on a regular basis, then abandon their responsibilities when they become pregnant. The African-American community is full of this...but there is a whole culture of whites who are also in the same boat. Let's get real about parental responsibility. Until the Republicans are willing to DO something about the number of unwanted children who are abandoned, raised in poverty, sent off to foster care, etc., they should NOT be standing on the platform of the sanctity of life. Have they been in inner cities lately? No...probably not. Unless it is to grab an unwelcome photo op of washing dishes at a soup kitchen, as the Republican VP candidate did lately, risking the donations to the place. Don't get me started on that!!!!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
All the World Is a Stage...
My granddaughter, Robin (age 10), has experienced some things over the past few months that remind me that sometimes people can surprise the daylights out of moi. She had a little solo in her all-district choir concert a few days ago, and participated in a Miss Zion pageant a couple of months ago--both of which showed her to to have stage presence and interest that I never would have suspected of her. Who knew? Indirectly, I will take some credit for that. Read on...
I think I've already mentioned at least a dozen times that, as a Navy brat, I was in a lot of schools before I hit 6th grade. Sixth grade was a milestone because that was the year that my dad went on inactive duty with the Navy Reserves, and we settled in Oak Park, IL, while he went back to his teaching career as a civilian. We wouldn't be moving anytime soon. It was the first time in my life that I could explore things about myself that I didn't already know.
I did know that I could sing. Music--and musicals--were loves of mine. I grew up in a time when musicals were really, really good...Fiddler on the Roof, West Side Story, The Sound of Music, The King and I, South Pacific...good stuff! Some of the sound tracks, I knew by heart--every single line.
I can't remember if it was 6th or 7th grade when Mrs. Harvey, my school's librarian, decided to put on a program of "Americana". She needed someone to sing a solo part in Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, a Negro spiritual, so she called on our music teacher, Mrs. Boehm, to select the soloists. My singing voice had never been noticed before due to all of the moving...so I remember the day quite well. Mrs. Boehm went around the room, asking each kid to sing a line, to select soloists. Well! Everyone who was anyone in that school knew that Nancy Hartigan was the favored songbird in our grade. And she was good. Nancy sang before I did. When Mrs. B got to me, she played and listened...then asked me to sing it again. It was as if she was shocked at my talent. A couple of days later, it was announced that Nancy and I would share verses in the song--she would sing one and I would sing one. I loved it, but it launched Nancy's "posse" into subversively threatening me because I had de-throned the queen. (That only lasted until I finally told my mother who then went to the school and talked to the principal. He called a convo of all of the female students of that grade and, without naming names, just said that he had gotten word that bullying was taking place and it was to stop immediately or there would be nasty consequences. It stopped. That was in the days when students actually respected school administration.) On another note, Mrs. Boehm was an excellent music teacher. She introduced us (and tested us) on opera and composers: Wagner, Tschaikowsky, Moussorgsky, etc. Exposure is a good thing!
Oak Park-River Forest High School was a big school. With six elementary feeder schools in a well-to-do area of what my mother called "old money", just west of the Chicago city limits, the sky was the limit. There were over 3,400 kids in that school. Academic competition was huge, as was the disparity between the people with money...and the likes of me, without. By the time I was a sophomore, I had already thrown in with the theater crowd. Our school had a REAL auditorium, a REAL stage, complete with everything that a Broadway stage would have, a REAL stage crew, and all of the bells and whistles. OP-RFHS put on three stage productions a year. The fall production was open to all students. The winter production was a musical, only open to members of the A Capella Choir, a select group of juniors and seniors. The spring production was for seniors only. I went to every production and wormed my way in by becoming Props Mistress for productions that I didn't have the courage to try for or weren't eligible for...but it got my feet wet.
Then, when I was a senior, I got brave enough to try out for the fall production, Harvey. At the time, my mother was with my grandparents in Rochester, MN, at Mayo Clinic to try to find answers to my grandmother's health problems. The day Mom got back, I was happily able to announce to her that I got the lead in the play. My mom was thrilled...as was I! The rest of that year, I also got the lead in the musical AND the senior production. It was glorious for me!
Then I graduated in 1965, and that was the end of that! Although I registered as a theater major in college with an English minor, I came to realize that I didn't have the looks or talent to become a Hollywood star. I also didn't have the drive. Shortly thereafter, I flip-flopped my major and minor so I could teach school (English) and possibly use my minor (Theater) to direct plays. In retrospect, it was probably the smartest thing I ever did in my life. English is a 4-year required course in probably every school district in the nation...but almost NO schools have a theater department! I was on a teacher track...
Enter (stage right), my marriage and the advent of my beautiful daughter in 1979. My husband considered me boring because I had become devoted to motherhood. By the time our daughter was about 5, in Pontiac, IL, heard about try-outs for a summer musical in Chatauqua Park. I got the lead! I taught school, I made supper, kept house, looked after my daughter, and went to rehearsals. In fact, I not only did THAT production, but a dinner theater after that. I think my husband was proud of me during performances--local school principals' wife making a splash in the community--but there was also jealousy. I was making friends that didn't include him. I had spent our entire marriage being HIS trophy, but he wasn't willing to be MINE. In fact, one of our longest arguments started when I made plans to have a garage sale with one of my newfound gal-friends. That was the beginning of the end.
One of the GOOD things that came out of that was that my daughter watched everything I did. At the dinner theater in Pontiac, my mother reported that Megan sat near the stage to watch me and mouthed almost all of my lines. Mom said Meg was transfixed. I don't know for sure, but I think she got bitten by "the bug" then.
Then we had to pull up stakes and move to Indiana, to Cloverdale. (1988) There was a summer theater group, so I tried out for Damn Yankees, and got the character lead. At that point, Megan wanted to be a part...so we worked her into a walk-on. Thereafter, she also got into a huge production of Oliver , for the same organization. Beyond that, she took dance lessons, which I thought was a waste of time. Meg didn't seem like the type to me. What a fool I was!
The next performance opportunity for me came with an Easter cantata put on by a Baptist Church in Putnam County. I landed a solo as Mary, singing at the foot of the cross..."Has it come to this?" It was the most emotional performance of my life. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. But the only person I knew who was there to listen was my daughter...ever faithful. I think Joe felt bad that he wasn't there to support me (because he was already into his affair with his now-wife, because he had pizza fixed for us when we got home and asked questions). The very next year, when we were totally apart, I stilll did the Easter cantata and had a small solo. My father died the night of the first performance. I decided to do the second performance the next night before leaving for Illinois. I will never forget the woman who said, when I told her my father had died the night before, "How nice! Yesterday, your father could not hear you sing. Tonight, he can!"
When my husband and I divorced, and Megan and I moved to Plainfield, it took a couple of years for us to sort things out--similar to my early days after my dad was out of active duty in the Navy. She was drawn to theater and musicals. It didn't take long for her to be part of her school's productions, but the creme-de-la creme was Belles et Beaux---the show choir. She took part in a couple of musicals, but kept her eye on Belles et Beaux...and by the time she was a junior (just like her mama) she got brave enough to try out and not be just a part of the crew. One night, she was sitting in the bathtub after a night out with the organization and announced to me that she had made it! Now I totally understood how thrilled my own mother was when I made a similar announcement!
The next two years were filled with rehearsals and competitions and happy, happy days of cheering the show choir on. By the time Meg was a senior, she was a crowning glory in the show choir! She could sing. She could dance. She had a stage presence that I never, ever thought possible...but I have the evidence on tape! I love watching those old videos.
Through the years, my daughter was exposed to REAL music...musicals; John Denver; Peter, Paul, and Mary; The Messiah, and other stuff that makes her tastes as ecclectic as mine. So go my grandchildren. We took them at very early ages to watch show choir competitions and stage performances. Maybe some of it "took". All I know is that my "baby Robin" seems to have the spark that is so much a part of my/our history. She looks like a pro on stage at age 10. If this is what she likes, may she have many opportunities to lead and set an example for schools to keep programs in place for kids like her!
This was a very roundabout way to tell a simpler story...but I want the world to know that influence is influence. If my granddaughter becomes half the songbird that he mother and I were, we will be very happy people. I am so proud of you, Robin. You rock!
I think I've already mentioned at least a dozen times that, as a Navy brat, I was in a lot of schools before I hit 6th grade. Sixth grade was a milestone because that was the year that my dad went on inactive duty with the Navy Reserves, and we settled in Oak Park, IL, while he went back to his teaching career as a civilian. We wouldn't be moving anytime soon. It was the first time in my life that I could explore things about myself that I didn't already know.
I did know that I could sing. Music--and musicals--were loves of mine. I grew up in a time when musicals were really, really good...Fiddler on the Roof, West Side Story, The Sound of Music, The King and I, South Pacific...good stuff! Some of the sound tracks, I knew by heart--every single line.
I can't remember if it was 6th or 7th grade when Mrs. Harvey, my school's librarian, decided to put on a program of "Americana". She needed someone to sing a solo part in Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, a Negro spiritual, so she called on our music teacher, Mrs. Boehm, to select the soloists. My singing voice had never been noticed before due to all of the moving...so I remember the day quite well. Mrs. Boehm went around the room, asking each kid to sing a line, to select soloists. Well! Everyone who was anyone in that school knew that Nancy Hartigan was the favored songbird in our grade. And she was good. Nancy sang before I did. When Mrs. B got to me, she played and listened...then asked me to sing it again. It was as if she was shocked at my talent. A couple of days later, it was announced that Nancy and I would share verses in the song--she would sing one and I would sing one. I loved it, but it launched Nancy's "posse" into subversively threatening me because I had de-throned the queen. (That only lasted until I finally told my mother who then went to the school and talked to the principal. He called a convo of all of the female students of that grade and, without naming names, just said that he had gotten word that bullying was taking place and it was to stop immediately or there would be nasty consequences. It stopped. That was in the days when students actually respected school administration.) On another note, Mrs. Boehm was an excellent music teacher. She introduced us (and tested us) on opera and composers: Wagner, Tschaikowsky, Moussorgsky, etc. Exposure is a good thing!
Oak Park-River Forest High School was a big school. With six elementary feeder schools in a well-to-do area of what my mother called "old money", just west of the Chicago city limits, the sky was the limit. There were over 3,400 kids in that school. Academic competition was huge, as was the disparity between the people with money...and the likes of me, without. By the time I was a sophomore, I had already thrown in with the theater crowd. Our school had a REAL auditorium, a REAL stage, complete with everything that a Broadway stage would have, a REAL stage crew, and all of the bells and whistles. OP-RFHS put on three stage productions a year. The fall production was open to all students. The winter production was a musical, only open to members of the A Capella Choir, a select group of juniors and seniors. The spring production was for seniors only. I went to every production and wormed my way in by becoming Props Mistress for productions that I didn't have the courage to try for or weren't eligible for...but it got my feet wet.
Then, when I was a senior, I got brave enough to try out for the fall production, Harvey. At the time, my mother was with my grandparents in Rochester, MN, at Mayo Clinic to try to find answers to my grandmother's health problems. The day Mom got back, I was happily able to announce to her that I got the lead in the play. My mom was thrilled...as was I! The rest of that year, I also got the lead in the musical AND the senior production. It was glorious for me!
Then I graduated in 1965, and that was the end of that! Although I registered as a theater major in college with an English minor, I came to realize that I didn't have the looks or talent to become a Hollywood star. I also didn't have the drive. Shortly thereafter, I flip-flopped my major and minor so I could teach school (English) and possibly use my minor (Theater) to direct plays. In retrospect, it was probably the smartest thing I ever did in my life. English is a 4-year required course in probably every school district in the nation...but almost NO schools have a theater department! I was on a teacher track...
Enter (stage right), my marriage and the advent of my beautiful daughter in 1979. My husband considered me boring because I had become devoted to motherhood. By the time our daughter was about 5, in Pontiac, IL, heard about try-outs for a summer musical in Chatauqua Park. I got the lead! I taught school, I made supper, kept house, looked after my daughter, and went to rehearsals. In fact, I not only did THAT production, but a dinner theater after that. I think my husband was proud of me during performances--local school principals' wife making a splash in the community--but there was also jealousy. I was making friends that didn't include him. I had spent our entire marriage being HIS trophy, but he wasn't willing to be MINE. In fact, one of our longest arguments started when I made plans to have a garage sale with one of my newfound gal-friends. That was the beginning of the end.
One of the GOOD things that came out of that was that my daughter watched everything I did. At the dinner theater in Pontiac, my mother reported that Megan sat near the stage to watch me and mouthed almost all of my lines. Mom said Meg was transfixed. I don't know for sure, but I think she got bitten by "the bug" then.
Then we had to pull up stakes and move to Indiana, to Cloverdale. (1988) There was a summer theater group, so I tried out for Damn Yankees, and got the character lead. At that point, Megan wanted to be a part...so we worked her into a walk-on. Thereafter, she also got into a huge production of Oliver , for the same organization. Beyond that, she took dance lessons, which I thought was a waste of time. Meg didn't seem like the type to me. What a fool I was!
The next performance opportunity for me came with an Easter cantata put on by a Baptist Church in Putnam County. I landed a solo as Mary, singing at the foot of the cross..."Has it come to this?" It was the most emotional performance of my life. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. But the only person I knew who was there to listen was my daughter...ever faithful. I think Joe felt bad that he wasn't there to support me (because he was already into his affair with his now-wife, because he had pizza fixed for us when we got home and asked questions). The very next year, when we were totally apart, I stilll did the Easter cantata and had a small solo. My father died the night of the first performance. I decided to do the second performance the next night before leaving for Illinois. I will never forget the woman who said, when I told her my father had died the night before, "How nice! Yesterday, your father could not hear you sing. Tonight, he can!"
When my husband and I divorced, and Megan and I moved to Plainfield, it took a couple of years for us to sort things out--similar to my early days after my dad was out of active duty in the Navy. She was drawn to theater and musicals. It didn't take long for her to be part of her school's productions, but the creme-de-la creme was Belles et Beaux---the show choir. She took part in a couple of musicals, but kept her eye on Belles et Beaux...and by the time she was a junior (just like her mama) she got brave enough to try out and not be just a part of the crew. One night, she was sitting in the bathtub after a night out with the organization and announced to me that she had made it! Now I totally understood how thrilled my own mother was when I made a similar announcement!
The next two years were filled with rehearsals and competitions and happy, happy days of cheering the show choir on. By the time Meg was a senior, she was a crowning glory in the show choir! She could sing. She could dance. She had a stage presence that I never, ever thought possible...but I have the evidence on tape! I love watching those old videos.
Through the years, my daughter was exposed to REAL music...musicals; John Denver; Peter, Paul, and Mary; The Messiah, and other stuff that makes her tastes as ecclectic as mine. So go my grandchildren. We took them at very early ages to watch show choir competitions and stage performances. Maybe some of it "took". All I know is that my "baby Robin" seems to have the spark that is so much a part of my/our history. She looks like a pro on stage at age 10. If this is what she likes, may she have many opportunities to lead and set an example for schools to keep programs in place for kids like her!
This was a very roundabout way to tell a simpler story...but I want the world to know that influence is influence. If my granddaughter becomes half the songbird that he mother and I were, we will be very happy people. I am so proud of you, Robin. You rock!
Monday, October 22, 2012
One Dead Slug
I can relate to author James Thurber who wrote, among other things, My World and Welcome to It, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, The Night the Bed Fell, and other little goodies. He was the one who penned the phrase "ghoulies and ghosties and three-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night". He was a cartoonist and writer for The New Yorker, finding humor in the simplest things in a warped sort of way. Blind since childhood when his brother shot out one of his eyes while playing a game about William Tell (and the other eye subsequently failed), he created stories and cartoons in his mind. His world (and welcome to it!) was probably as small as mine.
So here I am, talking about a dead slug. I'm not sure what the scientific name for slugs is. I've always known them as "slugs"--snails, but without shells. I have them in my yard. The only reason I know I have them in my yard is that I can see their little slime trails on the patio, and I can see what they do to my plants...but I never actually get to see the little buggers. I don't dig around looking for them. (I'm not big on slime.)
Well...yesterday, I noticed big, long slime trails on the patio. It's like following the dotted line in a cartoon that tracks a character on a long trek from one location to another. I started to look at the trails, thinking I would find a starting point or an ending point. They meandered all over a fourth of the patio in ever smaller circles until, inevitably, they ended in a slurry with one dead slug in the center of it. Humph! A dead slug! Perhaps he lost his way on the concrete and just gave up the ghost when he couldn't find his way back to the yard. Were it earlier in the season, the ants would be on him like white on rice...but there he sits today, dehydrating into a much smaller version of what he once was. Thus it is at my house, aka Slug Heaven. May God have mercy on his soul!
So...I was out back after the slug episode, lopping off some mulberry shoots that come up everywhere in my yard, thanks to the mulberry trees down at Hummel Park. I had just cut down a couple of them when I happened to look down near my right foot and saw...a lizard! Scared the daylights out of me! Turns out, as you might suspect, that this lizard was one of my grandson's rubber ones. The last time Ryan was here was the week of the Fourth of July. The lawn has been mowed several times since then, but this lizard was untouched by the mower, and apparently unseen by the guy who mows for me. Lucky lizard!!
Other suspicious patio happenings since July:
*My figurine of a little boy holding a frog, given to me by a custodian at school when my brother died, was knocked over and decapitated. I noticed it right after the lawn was mowed, but my "mower" didn't say anything about it. It's a clean break. I hope to be able to repair it.
*My little squirrel figurine keeps getting knocked off the yard bench. He's pretty heavy. I'd be surprised if the wind does it...but who knows? Ghoulies and ghosties???
*The cat graveyard at the end of the patio has had all of its markers overturned... The markers are like garden stepping stones. I suspect my grandson in that deal. (When he was younger, he wanted to dig the cats up, just to see what they looked like!) Still, I'm not sure why he would turn them all over...
*Every stinkin' leaf on the Hostas in the cat graveyard have been stripped. Rabbits? Squirrels? Slugs?? All I have left are stems sticking up out of the ground. Things that go bump in the night???
*There is a live squirrel that comes by the patio frequently. He approaches me closely without fear, which indicates to me that someone is feeding him and he thinks I will provide dinner. Now I wonder if I should buy food for him, or just let him go on his way...
*In the past couple of days, I have seen squirrels, cottontail rabbits, and adult raccoons running for cover in my neighbor's back yard...and mine. I don't mind the rabbits and squirrels, but I DO mind the raccoons. I don't like surprises! Raccoons are just as cute as they can be when they are babies, but they turn into vicious marauders as adults and can do a lot of damage...or make big messes. I suspect they are living under the neighbor's minibarn. Ugh!
Having lunch with a friend tomorrow. That will get me out of My World (and welcome to it) for a little while. In the meantime, I just keep on pluggin'!
So here I am, talking about a dead slug. I'm not sure what the scientific name for slugs is. I've always known them as "slugs"--snails, but without shells. I have them in my yard. The only reason I know I have them in my yard is that I can see their little slime trails on the patio, and I can see what they do to my plants...but I never actually get to see the little buggers. I don't dig around looking for them. (I'm not big on slime.)
Well...yesterday, I noticed big, long slime trails on the patio. It's like following the dotted line in a cartoon that tracks a character on a long trek from one location to another. I started to look at the trails, thinking I would find a starting point or an ending point. They meandered all over a fourth of the patio in ever smaller circles until, inevitably, they ended in a slurry with one dead slug in the center of it. Humph! A dead slug! Perhaps he lost his way on the concrete and just gave up the ghost when he couldn't find his way back to the yard. Were it earlier in the season, the ants would be on him like white on rice...but there he sits today, dehydrating into a much smaller version of what he once was. Thus it is at my house, aka Slug Heaven. May God have mercy on his soul!
So...I was out back after the slug episode, lopping off some mulberry shoots that come up everywhere in my yard, thanks to the mulberry trees down at Hummel Park. I had just cut down a couple of them when I happened to look down near my right foot and saw...a lizard! Scared the daylights out of me! Turns out, as you might suspect, that this lizard was one of my grandson's rubber ones. The last time Ryan was here was the week of the Fourth of July. The lawn has been mowed several times since then, but this lizard was untouched by the mower, and apparently unseen by the guy who mows for me. Lucky lizard!!
Other suspicious patio happenings since July:
*My figurine of a little boy holding a frog, given to me by a custodian at school when my brother died, was knocked over and decapitated. I noticed it right after the lawn was mowed, but my "mower" didn't say anything about it. It's a clean break. I hope to be able to repair it.
*My little squirrel figurine keeps getting knocked off the yard bench. He's pretty heavy. I'd be surprised if the wind does it...but who knows? Ghoulies and ghosties???
*The cat graveyard at the end of the patio has had all of its markers overturned... The markers are like garden stepping stones. I suspect my grandson in that deal. (When he was younger, he wanted to dig the cats up, just to see what they looked like!) Still, I'm not sure why he would turn them all over...
*Every stinkin' leaf on the Hostas in the cat graveyard have been stripped. Rabbits? Squirrels? Slugs?? All I have left are stems sticking up out of the ground. Things that go bump in the night???
*There is a live squirrel that comes by the patio frequently. He approaches me closely without fear, which indicates to me that someone is feeding him and he thinks I will provide dinner. Now I wonder if I should buy food for him, or just let him go on his way...
*In the past couple of days, I have seen squirrels, cottontail rabbits, and adult raccoons running for cover in my neighbor's back yard...and mine. I don't mind the rabbits and squirrels, but I DO mind the raccoons. I don't like surprises! Raccoons are just as cute as they can be when they are babies, but they turn into vicious marauders as adults and can do a lot of damage...or make big messes. I suspect they are living under the neighbor's minibarn. Ugh!
Having lunch with a friend tomorrow. That will get me out of My World (and welcome to it) for a little while. In the meantime, I just keep on pluggin'!
Friday, October 19, 2012
The Fine Line...
Oscar Levant once quipped, "There is a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased that line."
DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to persons living or dead, except where noted, is purely coincidental. :)
Until I started to write this, I had no idea who first stated the quote about "the fine line between genius and insanity", but I have used it all of my adult life to describe my brother. Since then, I have come to know a number of people who seem to have one foot on either side of that line. I believe that every person on the planet knows at least ONE person like that. Sometimes, we call them simply "eccentric".
What I have noticed about these people is that they are most always brilliant, in their own ways, but trapped in quirky behaviors due to what they believe about life. Some are legends in their own minds. Others are more modest--even reclusive. One thing that they all have in common is certain anti-social behavior in that they don't seem to care what other people think of them. They lack the need to conform to society's rules. Some of the rest of us scratch our heads, wondering what makes these folks tick. A few envy the eccentric ones, wishing they could live with such abandon, but knowing they can't. It isn't in their nature. Still, I believe to the core of my being, that those among us who are eccentric feel "different" somehow...and might have been bullied in life, or at the very least consider themselves outside of normal. Regardless of the reasons, these people often end up isolated, depressed, self-medicated with drugs or alcohol, and living out their fears of abandonment or failure.
Once in awhile, these eccentric people cross the line and go "postal". Then people start screaming about who is to blame. Didn't the parents see the problems? Why weren't the police notified? Who hid the fact that these people had issues??? Contrary to popular belief, going to jail does NOT provide psychological help. The last time I looked, being a loner isn't against the law. And even if you recognized that a loved one had mental problems, have you priced psychiatric/psychological services lately? Insurance doesn't always treat mental illnesses in the same way that it treats physical illnesses.
The absolute worst part is that, though families are aware of the problems, there is no real help for them. Oh, you can get on the Internet and read all about mental disorders and how they can be treated, if you have the funds, but nowhere is there a manual about how to react when things happen. Your loved one has Alzheimer's or dementia? There is info about what to expect, but nothing about what to do about it. You suspect that your loved one is about to do something bad? The law can't do a thing about until he/she actually does. Anxiety/Depression? Our only inclination is to tell them to snap out of it, which only makes things worse. Medicine isn't always the answer.
So what IS the answer? I wish I knew! I watch Dr. Phil a lot, and I know that many people who are suffering from one mental problem or another are met with offers of "resources" that would cost tens-of-thousands of $$ if they weren't on the show. What about the rest of the world? Is mental health important to us? Does anyone understand? Does anyone really care???
DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to persons living or dead, except where noted, is purely coincidental. :)
Until I started to write this, I had no idea who first stated the quote about "the fine line between genius and insanity", but I have used it all of my adult life to describe my brother. Since then, I have come to know a number of people who seem to have one foot on either side of that line. I believe that every person on the planet knows at least ONE person like that. Sometimes, we call them simply "eccentric".
What I have noticed about these people is that they are most always brilliant, in their own ways, but trapped in quirky behaviors due to what they believe about life. Some are legends in their own minds. Others are more modest--even reclusive. One thing that they all have in common is certain anti-social behavior in that they don't seem to care what other people think of them. They lack the need to conform to society's rules. Some of the rest of us scratch our heads, wondering what makes these folks tick. A few envy the eccentric ones, wishing they could live with such abandon, but knowing they can't. It isn't in their nature. Still, I believe to the core of my being, that those among us who are eccentric feel "different" somehow...and might have been bullied in life, or at the very least consider themselves outside of normal. Regardless of the reasons, these people often end up isolated, depressed, self-medicated with drugs or alcohol, and living out their fears of abandonment or failure.
Once in awhile, these eccentric people cross the line and go "postal". Then people start screaming about who is to blame. Didn't the parents see the problems? Why weren't the police notified? Who hid the fact that these people had issues??? Contrary to popular belief, going to jail does NOT provide psychological help. The last time I looked, being a loner isn't against the law. And even if you recognized that a loved one had mental problems, have you priced psychiatric/psychological services lately? Insurance doesn't always treat mental illnesses in the same way that it treats physical illnesses.
The absolute worst part is that, though families are aware of the problems, there is no real help for them. Oh, you can get on the Internet and read all about mental disorders and how they can be treated, if you have the funds, but nowhere is there a manual about how to react when things happen. Your loved one has Alzheimer's or dementia? There is info about what to expect, but nothing about what to do about it. You suspect that your loved one is about to do something bad? The law can't do a thing about until he/she actually does. Anxiety/Depression? Our only inclination is to tell them to snap out of it, which only makes things worse. Medicine isn't always the answer.
So what IS the answer? I wish I knew! I watch Dr. Phil a lot, and I know that many people who are suffering from one mental problem or another are met with offers of "resources" that would cost tens-of-thousands of $$ if they weren't on the show. What about the rest of the world? Is mental health important to us? Does anyone understand? Does anyone really care???
Thursday, October 18, 2012
How I Spent My Last Two Weeks, by Peggy
I got to poking around on this "new" blog site and discovered all kinds of comments on my blatherings that I didn't even know existed. You mean people actually read this?? Amazing!!
I just returned on Monday from a 2-week trip to northern Illinois to visit my daughter and grandchildren. My original plan was to be there for a week, but one thing led to another, and I ended up staying two weeks, plus a day. I have had queries from local friends about "Are you going to move up there????" No...I'm not. I'm just a sucker for family.
My daughter, in her usual panic mode, told me that she had SO MUCH to do before her Russian in-laws arrive at the end of November for a 6-week visit. So, ever wishing to be helpful, I showed up and we made a list. For awhile, Megan was busy with a little business that she is working on, so I started out on my own. Keep in mind, that the grandchildren were there mostly on the weekends. The rest of the time, I did what I could. Here is the short list of what was accomplished:
*Two rounds of major laundry...washing, drying, sorting, folding, hanging.
*Occasional cooking. Daily kitchen cleaning.
*Cleaning and sorting in both of the grandchilren's bedrooms. Including going through every stitch of clothing to put away summer weight stuff and bring out winter weight things, hoping some of them will still fit.
*Purchasing a set of plastic shelves to put in Robin's closet to store a lot of her clap-trap.
*Purchasing a cheap wardrobe to put in Ryan's room in order to hang clothes and provide some privacy. (Ryan's room is an open space at the top of the stairs in the townhouse--no door and no closet. He complained about lack of privacy. We put the "wardrobe" against the stair railing to help provide privacy, and turned his dresser perpendicular to the wall for more.)
*Purchasing and hanging a dual bulletin board/white board for both kids' rooms. I think they liked those the most!
*Purchasing a set of steel shelving (an upgrade from the usual) for the garage, and some tubs to help Megan remove craft supplies from the house.
*Mending some clothing that was in need of machine stitching.
*Shopping with Ryan to help him spend his $15. (Doesn't matter how he got it.)
*Shopping with Robin to complete her Halloween costume, including white shoes (which we just luckily fell into because they are out of season), tights, glitter spray, etc. Also finding doll stands at Hobby Lobby for her Monster High dolls.
*Taking Robin to Zion for a library showing of "The Hunger Games", which she has already seen and read...and being there as she won two prizes for a trivia quiz and dressing the most like a character from the movie.
*A trip to Schaumburg to Dick Blick's to purchase crafty things for Meg's little business.
*Watching two soccer games for my g-kids. I skipped out on the third which was actually rained out. No biggie.
I'm sure there is more. I just can't think of it all. We could have done more had there been more money and time, but I didn't feel bad about what "we" got done.
It kept me busy and feeling useful. My son-in-law doesn't seem to mind my being there. One advantage to my presence is that there is a second vehicle. That helps!
The holidays will be a challenge. I think the family will be here for Thanksgiving, but then I will be cat-sitting at my house for their feline while they go to Florida to meet up with the Russian in-laws and Megan's father, whom she hasn't seen in a couple of years. After that, Luda and Sergey will spend a few days with me before Christmas without their son...our only Russian interpreter. Pray for me!!
Yesterday, one of my really good radio friends came over to help winterize the storm doors on my house. I'm not sure what I would have done through the years without KB9RAF and his fix-it skills. I am so blessed with friends who care! Some day, maybe I can find a way to return the favors that have been given me.
I love the fall of the year. Am trying to be as useful at my own house as I was at my daughter's. Want to take bets??
I just returned on Monday from a 2-week trip to northern Illinois to visit my daughter and grandchildren. My original plan was to be there for a week, but one thing led to another, and I ended up staying two weeks, plus a day. I have had queries from local friends about "Are you going to move up there????" No...I'm not. I'm just a sucker for family.
My daughter, in her usual panic mode, told me that she had SO MUCH to do before her Russian in-laws arrive at the end of November for a 6-week visit. So, ever wishing to be helpful, I showed up and we made a list. For awhile, Megan was busy with a little business that she is working on, so I started out on my own. Keep in mind, that the grandchildren were there mostly on the weekends. The rest of the time, I did what I could. Here is the short list of what was accomplished:
*Two rounds of major laundry...washing, drying, sorting, folding, hanging.
*Occasional cooking. Daily kitchen cleaning.
*Cleaning and sorting in both of the grandchilren's bedrooms. Including going through every stitch of clothing to put away summer weight stuff and bring out winter weight things, hoping some of them will still fit.
*Purchasing a set of plastic shelves to put in Robin's closet to store a lot of her clap-trap.
*Purchasing a cheap wardrobe to put in Ryan's room in order to hang clothes and provide some privacy. (Ryan's room is an open space at the top of the stairs in the townhouse--no door and no closet. He complained about lack of privacy. We put the "wardrobe" against the stair railing to help provide privacy, and turned his dresser perpendicular to the wall for more.)
*Purchasing and hanging a dual bulletin board/white board for both kids' rooms. I think they liked those the most!
*Purchasing a set of steel shelving (an upgrade from the usual) for the garage, and some tubs to help Megan remove craft supplies from the house.
*Mending some clothing that was in need of machine stitching.
*Shopping with Ryan to help him spend his $15. (Doesn't matter how he got it.)
*Shopping with Robin to complete her Halloween costume, including white shoes (which we just luckily fell into because they are out of season), tights, glitter spray, etc. Also finding doll stands at Hobby Lobby for her Monster High dolls.
*Taking Robin to Zion for a library showing of "The Hunger Games", which she has already seen and read...and being there as she won two prizes for a trivia quiz and dressing the most like a character from the movie.
*A trip to Schaumburg to Dick Blick's to purchase crafty things for Meg's little business.
*Watching two soccer games for my g-kids. I skipped out on the third which was actually rained out. No biggie.
I'm sure there is more. I just can't think of it all. We could have done more had there been more money and time, but I didn't feel bad about what "we" got done.
It kept me busy and feeling useful. My son-in-law doesn't seem to mind my being there. One advantage to my presence is that there is a second vehicle. That helps!
The holidays will be a challenge. I think the family will be here for Thanksgiving, but then I will be cat-sitting at my house for their feline while they go to Florida to meet up with the Russian in-laws and Megan's father, whom she hasn't seen in a couple of years. After that, Luda and Sergey will spend a few days with me before Christmas without their son...our only Russian interpreter. Pray for me!!
Yesterday, one of my really good radio friends came over to help winterize the storm doors on my house. I'm not sure what I would have done through the years without KB9RAF and his fix-it skills. I am so blessed with friends who care! Some day, maybe I can find a way to return the favors that have been given me.
I love the fall of the year. Am trying to be as useful at my own house as I was at my daughter's. Want to take bets??
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
The Lap of Luxury
You probably know the feeling of coveting thy neighbor's things. (That's biblical talk for envying what other people have, in case I'm being too hoity-toity here.) And you may have thought to yourself, "If I just had that, I could die happy. It would be the 'lap of luxury.' " I've been there, but life happened before I could get stupid about it. I became a realist, understanding that what I wanted and what I was going to have were two different things. I learned to be (somewhat) happy with what I had, depending on how hard I'd had to work for it. For instance, when my spouse and I divorced, I had to buy everyday dishes. I bought some Corell dishes that I liked. They were reasonable and fashionable then. I can't really stand them now, 21 years later, but there isn't a single chip or crack in any of them, so I can't see throwing them out in favor of buying new. If I had an unlimited income, I could justify it. Still, that would seem wasteful to me...and I guess I am yet a product of my parents' generation that deemed it sinful to waste anything.
Today, I was thinking about all of the things that I once considered luxurious, and why.
1. When I was a young child, my sister was a pretty teenager of dating age. Mom made Shari take me with her on some of her dating excursions, and I'm sure I became a pain in her side. (It's hard to be romantic with a beau if your little sister is in tow!) One place I could not go with her were to dances. She looked so dreamy in her dresses, and I wanted to look just like her. One dress that I can remember was a black taffeta A-line dress with embroidered polka-dots. I made my mother save that dress after Shari moved on, in hopes that I could wear it someday and look like Shari. Unfortunately, my sister and I weren't built the same. I never could wear that dress when I was old enough to do so and have it look the same as I remembered on Shari. I did, however, wear a strapless white floofy hand-me-down formal that had been saved...but, again, I just didn't do it justice. (I have pictures. No magic there!)
2. In my first marriage, my hubby and I bought a townhome in the south suburbs of Chicago, in a subdivision that was just being developed. The main feature, as far as I was concerned, was a built-in fireplace option. I had never lived in a home with a working fireplace. I considered fireplaces to be so very romantic, and I desperately wanted one. My husband didn't. It added $1,200 to the price of the home (this was in the 70s), but factored out over the life of the loan, would have cost much more. I acquiesced. It's just as well. The marriage didn't last, but the electric space-heater fireplace that we purchased to appease me has been in every one of my homes ever since.
3. All of my adult life, in every home that had a big window that needed treatment, I wanted custom-made draperies. Both of my former mothers-in-law had them, and I considered them luxurious. Ready-made drapes were a whole lot cheaper, but they never hung right. (I didn't understand back then that it as the way they were hung that made the difference!) I never, ever got my custom-made drapes...until Megan and I moved into my little house-on-a-slab here in Plainfield. The bay window in the living room came equipped with beautiful custom-made draperies! I thought I had died and gone to Heaven...until, over time, the drapes began to show dirt where our two cats pushed between them to avail themselves of the view from the window. In time, I had to decide if I wanted to spend the mega-bucks to have them dry cleaned...or just chuck them. (There was no option to simply wash them.) Thus, the expensive draperies eventually went bye-bye. It was hard for me to accept, but losing them opened up the room. I don't have the hundreds of dollars to replace them. So much for that!
4. This is going to seem really stupid. When I was growing up, I had two homes. My main home was with my parents, wherever we were with the Navy. My other home was my grandparents' farm in central Illinois...a home that rose out of the ashes of a fire that destroyed the homestead house. The silverware drawer in both homes had a collection of utensils that didn't match--things that had been donated after the fire--things that had been picked up along the way. You name it. I took it upon myself in my early years to be the table-setter. I wanted things to look pretty. I wanted silverware to match. It didn't, to my satisfaction. I thought it was the lap of luxury to be able to reach into the silverware drawer and be able to pull out a whole table-full of matching utensils. To this day, I can't have anything in my silverware drawer that doesn't match the rest of the utensils!
5. Swimming pools. I always believed that having a swimming pool on the property was the lap of luxury...but I've know enough people who have them to understand that they are a lot of work and take more dedication and funds than I have. Heck, I couldn't even maintain the stupid little birdbath-sized fountain in my yard. What would I have done with a pool...expecially since I am all alone here????
6. Money, money, money! I had money once...but I gave it all away. I didn't spend it on me. I spent it on the people that I love. And MOST of the things I bought with that money no longer exist. Still, I keep thinking how much easier life would be if I could go to the doctor and not worry about how the bills will be paid, or be able to buy another car. I have had occasion to watch television shows about people who win the lottery and still go broke. I get it.
What I have come to understand is that the "lap of luxury" is only a perception. The vast majority of us human beings will never live luxuriously, and we accept what we have been given with gratitude. Does it stop the envy? No! At this point, I just try to treasure what I have--at least the things that are important--and let the rest go. Hey...nobody is perfect!
Today, I was thinking about all of the things that I once considered luxurious, and why.
1. When I was a young child, my sister was a pretty teenager of dating age. Mom made Shari take me with her on some of her dating excursions, and I'm sure I became a pain in her side. (It's hard to be romantic with a beau if your little sister is in tow!) One place I could not go with her were to dances. She looked so dreamy in her dresses, and I wanted to look just like her. One dress that I can remember was a black taffeta A-line dress with embroidered polka-dots. I made my mother save that dress after Shari moved on, in hopes that I could wear it someday and look like Shari. Unfortunately, my sister and I weren't built the same. I never could wear that dress when I was old enough to do so and have it look the same as I remembered on Shari. I did, however, wear a strapless white floofy hand-me-down formal that had been saved...but, again, I just didn't do it justice. (I have pictures. No magic there!)
2. In my first marriage, my hubby and I bought a townhome in the south suburbs of Chicago, in a subdivision that was just being developed. The main feature, as far as I was concerned, was a built-in fireplace option. I had never lived in a home with a working fireplace. I considered fireplaces to be so very romantic, and I desperately wanted one. My husband didn't. It added $1,200 to the price of the home (this was in the 70s), but factored out over the life of the loan, would have cost much more. I acquiesced. It's just as well. The marriage didn't last, but the electric space-heater fireplace that we purchased to appease me has been in every one of my homes ever since.
3. All of my adult life, in every home that had a big window that needed treatment, I wanted custom-made draperies. Both of my former mothers-in-law had them, and I considered them luxurious. Ready-made drapes were a whole lot cheaper, but they never hung right. (I didn't understand back then that it as the way they were hung that made the difference!) I never, ever got my custom-made drapes...until Megan and I moved into my little house-on-a-slab here in Plainfield. The bay window in the living room came equipped with beautiful custom-made draperies! I thought I had died and gone to Heaven...until, over time, the drapes began to show dirt where our two cats pushed between them to avail themselves of the view from the window. In time, I had to decide if I wanted to spend the mega-bucks to have them dry cleaned...or just chuck them. (There was no option to simply wash them.) Thus, the expensive draperies eventually went bye-bye. It was hard for me to accept, but losing them opened up the room. I don't have the hundreds of dollars to replace them. So much for that!
4. This is going to seem really stupid. When I was growing up, I had two homes. My main home was with my parents, wherever we were with the Navy. My other home was my grandparents' farm in central Illinois...a home that rose out of the ashes of a fire that destroyed the homestead house. The silverware drawer in both homes had a collection of utensils that didn't match--things that had been donated after the fire--things that had been picked up along the way. You name it. I took it upon myself in my early years to be the table-setter. I wanted things to look pretty. I wanted silverware to match. It didn't, to my satisfaction. I thought it was the lap of luxury to be able to reach into the silverware drawer and be able to pull out a whole table-full of matching utensils. To this day, I can't have anything in my silverware drawer that doesn't match the rest of the utensils!
5. Swimming pools. I always believed that having a swimming pool on the property was the lap of luxury...but I've know enough people who have them to understand that they are a lot of work and take more dedication and funds than I have. Heck, I couldn't even maintain the stupid little birdbath-sized fountain in my yard. What would I have done with a pool...expecially since I am all alone here????
6. Money, money, money! I had money once...but I gave it all away. I didn't spend it on me. I spent it on the people that I love. And MOST of the things I bought with that money no longer exist. Still, I keep thinking how much easier life would be if I could go to the doctor and not worry about how the bills will be paid, or be able to buy another car. I have had occasion to watch television shows about people who win the lottery and still go broke. I get it.
What I have come to understand is that the "lap of luxury" is only a perception. The vast majority of us human beings will never live luxuriously, and we accept what we have been given with gratitude. Does it stop the envy? No! At this point, I just try to treasure what I have--at least the things that are important--and let the rest go. Hey...nobody is perfect!
Monday, September 24, 2012
Security Blankets
I think I started it. When my daugher was born, my mother's sister (Aunt Rosie) sent a crib quilt that she said she made. (I'm not sure about that.) It was a Holly Hobby quilt with Holly Hobby applique's, crib size. When Meg was able to talk and I was tucking her into her crib, I asked her if she wanted this blanket or her "regular" one. She wanted "reglar". And so it happened. Her "reglar" blanket became "Reggie". She couldn't settle down without Reggie. Once, she was sick with vomiting and diarrhea for almost a week, and all I could do for her was feed her what the doctor recommended while making her comfortable on the couch with her Reggie.
In time, Reggie became worn. I reworked it...put on new backing and re-enforced the applique' stitching by hand. It was hard to keep it away from Meg that long, but I managed...and so did she. Thereafter, Megan and Reggie were constant companions when she needed comfort. Daily.
Over the years, Reggie became a rag. It could not be washed without total ruination. I worried that keeping that piece of blanket near her face would cause infection, but Meg would not be deterred. I think she gave up "Raggie" when she got married. (Maybe earlier, but I'm not sure!!)
When my first grandchild was born, life was good. One evening, when Robin was maybe a year old, she was left with me so her parents could attend a funeral...but Robin was sick. Quite sick. We watched Elmo on video and I snugged her up on the couch with a soft blanket That was the end of that! The soft blankets became a way of life for both of my grandchildren. I don't think either one of them has ever come out of their bedrooms in the morning without a soft blanket over their heads! I always tease Robin, calling her "Mary, Mother of Jesus" because of the look, but blankets are their feeling of security. Even my daughter has purchased a soft blanket just for her. What's left of Reggie, by the way, is just a small scrap of fabric in a platic bag now.
Have I written about this already? God, I hope not. That would mean I am OLD.
In time, Reggie became worn. I reworked it...put on new backing and re-enforced the applique' stitching by hand. It was hard to keep it away from Meg that long, but I managed...and so did she. Thereafter, Megan and Reggie were constant companions when she needed comfort. Daily.
Over the years, Reggie became a rag. It could not be washed without total ruination. I worried that keeping that piece of blanket near her face would cause infection, but Meg would not be deterred. I think she gave up "Raggie" when she got married. (Maybe earlier, but I'm not sure!!)
When my first grandchild was born, life was good. One evening, when Robin was maybe a year old, she was left with me so her parents could attend a funeral...but Robin was sick. Quite sick. We watched Elmo on video and I snugged her up on the couch with a soft blanket That was the end of that! The soft blankets became a way of life for both of my grandchildren. I don't think either one of them has ever come out of their bedrooms in the morning without a soft blanket over their heads! I always tease Robin, calling her "Mary, Mother of Jesus" because of the look, but blankets are their feeling of security. Even my daughter has purchased a soft blanket just for her. What's left of Reggie, by the way, is just a small scrap of fabric in a platic bag now.
Have I written about this already? God, I hope not. That would mean I am OLD.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Life Class
When I came home from church today, I turned on the TV for some background noise. The channel was still on the Opray Winfrey Network, leftover from the re-run Dr. Phil shows that air from 6:00 to 9:00 AM every day. I was watching that before I left for church.
Since it is Sunday, Oprah airs a shows she calls Life Class and it frequently shows snippets of past shows where she talks about things learned from her various guests. Most of the time, I don't watch it because it gets a bit didactic, but I was distracted today and didn't change the channel. I was listening in the background. One snippet was about a guest who had gone out for her usual early morning walk with her girlfriend, and while she was gone, her ex-husband entered the home and killed all four of her children--one of them also his--then killed himself. She sat there on the Oprah show, the picture of total grief...no tears, just total devastation...and when Oprah asked her how she got through her days, she responded that her peace came from the decision that, when she could no longer stand the pain any more, she would do away with herself. She simply hadn't come to that day yet (largely because her family/friends would not allow her to be alone). The "life class" lessons were obvious. Oprah talked about how awful things happen and we sometimes have to reinvent our lives..blah, blah...
And it occurred to me that I had never endured anything that terrible, but I certainly had empathy for that poor woman because I understood at the very marrow of my being how she must have felt. I have always said if anything happened to my daughter or my grandchildren that people could visit me in the looney bin. Seriously! Then Oprah was saying things about having to invent new ways to get through the world. I realized in that moment that I have been doing that all my life!
Reader's Digest once published a list of high-stress life events that can create illness in the person experiencing them. Among them was: death in the family, job loss/job change, home move, divorce, catastrophic illness, etc. I got to looking at that list years ago and realized that I had experienced all of those, one per year for six or seven years in a row. Then there was a break for a few years, and they started all over again.
The worst wrench of my life happened three years ago this month. It changed everything. It challenged everything I thought was right and true and good. And through it all, I either had to find a way to survive or give it all up. Like the woman on Oprah, I was willing to die just to be rid of the emotional pain. I didn't have the courage to do it myself...just wished that God would take me. He didn't! Slowly, slowly, I figured out that I had to find a new way to get through the world...or just shrivel up. I'm sure it didn't do anything to help my health, . My cardiologist wanted to put me on Happy Pills when I sat in his office and wept uncontrollably when he asked what was going on in my life, but I resisted. Chemicals don't take away reality.
Still and all, in this moment, I'm pretty proud of the fact that I am still standing. I haven't had a tough life in the sense that I was beaten, abused, or poverty-stricken, but the potential has always been there for all of that. There were times when I was probably stupid to stick around due to that potential, but I did, and I survived. Some of what I've endured might have brought lesser women to their knees. A couple of those events were life-threatening. I got lucky.
I believe that every person who lives long enough will endure these bad things, so I don't feel special in that department. I just think that we all must walk carefully through life because we never know when it will all be over. The biggest tragedy is that it would all be for naught. Thought for today: stop whining about what you want and don't have, and start praising God for what you do have. I'm working on that!
Since it is Sunday, Oprah airs a shows she calls Life Class and it frequently shows snippets of past shows where she talks about things learned from her various guests. Most of the time, I don't watch it because it gets a bit didactic, but I was distracted today and didn't change the channel. I was listening in the background. One snippet was about a guest who had gone out for her usual early morning walk with her girlfriend, and while she was gone, her ex-husband entered the home and killed all four of her children--one of them also his--then killed himself. She sat there on the Oprah show, the picture of total grief...no tears, just total devastation...and when Oprah asked her how she got through her days, she responded that her peace came from the decision that, when she could no longer stand the pain any more, she would do away with herself. She simply hadn't come to that day yet (largely because her family/friends would not allow her to be alone). The "life class" lessons were obvious. Oprah talked about how awful things happen and we sometimes have to reinvent our lives..blah, blah...
And it occurred to me that I had never endured anything that terrible, but I certainly had empathy for that poor woman because I understood at the very marrow of my being how she must have felt. I have always said if anything happened to my daughter or my grandchildren that people could visit me in the looney bin. Seriously! Then Oprah was saying things about having to invent new ways to get through the world. I realized in that moment that I have been doing that all my life!
Reader's Digest once published a list of high-stress life events that can create illness in the person experiencing them. Among them was: death in the family, job loss/job change, home move, divorce, catastrophic illness, etc. I got to looking at that list years ago and realized that I had experienced all of those, one per year for six or seven years in a row. Then there was a break for a few years, and they started all over again.
The worst wrench of my life happened three years ago this month. It changed everything. It challenged everything I thought was right and true and good. And through it all, I either had to find a way to survive or give it all up. Like the woman on Oprah, I was willing to die just to be rid of the emotional pain. I didn't have the courage to do it myself...just wished that God would take me. He didn't! Slowly, slowly, I figured out that I had to find a new way to get through the world...or just shrivel up. I'm sure it didn't do anything to help my health, . My cardiologist wanted to put me on Happy Pills when I sat in his office and wept uncontrollably when he asked what was going on in my life, but I resisted. Chemicals don't take away reality.
Still and all, in this moment, I'm pretty proud of the fact that I am still standing. I haven't had a tough life in the sense that I was beaten, abused, or poverty-stricken, but the potential has always been there for all of that. There were times when I was probably stupid to stick around due to that potential, but I did, and I survived. Some of what I've endured might have brought lesser women to their knees. A couple of those events were life-threatening. I got lucky.
I believe that every person who lives long enough will endure these bad things, so I don't feel special in that department. I just think that we all must walk carefully through life because we never know when it will all be over. The biggest tragedy is that it would all be for naught. Thought for today: stop whining about what you want and don't have, and start praising God for what you do have. I'm working on that!
Second Season
As I mentioned in a previous post, my annual flowers are looking beautiful since the heat and drought dissipated. But my perennials are totally confused!
Most of my annual plants come up in early spring, bloom, then die back for the remainder of the growing season. Not this year! Apparently the drought and heat represented "winter" to them, and now that we have reasonable temperatures and plenty of rainfall, they are rejuvenated. I have had new fronds of my Autumn Ferns come up, new growth on the day lillies, and blooms on whatever the shrub is on the border of my property. (The border shrub doesn't surprise me, though. I've seen that silly thing bloom in December!) The broad-leaf hostas in front, though shredded from the last hailstorm, have finally bloomed.
And guess what? There is a frost advisory for tonight. It's plenty early in the season for that! It seems that fall arrived almost exactly on the first day on the calendar. Yesterday, I broke out the fall decorations for the house. Just enough to celebrate. I'm not ready for the weather to go from desert to rain forest to winter all in eight weeks' time, but such is life in the Midwest. Ain't it grand?
Most of my annual plants come up in early spring, bloom, then die back for the remainder of the growing season. Not this year! Apparently the drought and heat represented "winter" to them, and now that we have reasonable temperatures and plenty of rainfall, they are rejuvenated. I have had new fronds of my Autumn Ferns come up, new growth on the day lillies, and blooms on whatever the shrub is on the border of my property. (The border shrub doesn't surprise me, though. I've seen that silly thing bloom in December!) The broad-leaf hostas in front, though shredded from the last hailstorm, have finally bloomed.
And guess what? There is a frost advisory for tonight. It's plenty early in the season for that! It seems that fall arrived almost exactly on the first day on the calendar. Yesterday, I broke out the fall decorations for the house. Just enough to celebrate. I'm not ready for the weather to go from desert to rain forest to winter all in eight weeks' time, but such is life in the Midwest. Ain't it grand?
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Mind Splatter
It's been quite awhile since I posted on this blog. I haven't given up. I simply haven't been able to get my mind to settle on thoughts that could be expressed coherently and still be of interest to others. I blame this on what I call "mind splatter".
Over the past couple of years, I have become an active participant in the "social media" event called Facebook. For the most part, it has been fun to keep in touch with former students and old friends, but lately this has been challenging. Why? Because it is an election year. People whom I normally like and respect in real life have become blithering idiots when it comes to religion and politics online. I have no objections to people having their political opinions, and I support their right to say what they feel. But I also have an overgrown sense of fairness, and some of what I see people posting on Facebook is stuff they have copied and pasted from other sites with no regard to accuracy. Simply put, it is mindless regurgitation, made popular because it is fun to take pot-shots at people and politicians in the anonymity that comes with sitting alone at a computer and not face-to-face.
I am painfully aware that I am at odds with many of the people in the state of Indiana. I am a liberal thinker. (I honestly don't know how anyone who is a Christian or an educator can be anything else.) However, I consider myself an "independent" voter...not a Democrat. I have voted for Republican candidates in the past and might again in the future, but more-and-more, I am so turned off by the conservative rhetoric that gets spouted online that it's all I can do to keep my mouth shut. I have already "unfriended" a number of people on Facebook because I no longer care to read their posts that are offensive to me. And these are people that I like!
I won't even go into details, but I will say that the people who post offensive things come in three categories:
Super-patriotic (you don't support the troops if you don't "like" or repost emotional tugs at the heart. Perhaps they have forgotten that there is no draft now. The troops have CHOSEN this lifestyle.)
Super-religious (you don't love God or Jesus if you don't "like" or repost things they have posted. I'm sorry...my personal relationship with God does not require verification on social media!)
Super-political (you are a "moron" or an "idiot" if you don't vote for my candidate. Oops! I have issues that concern me. If your candidate/party does not address these in ways that are acceptable to me, I will vote my conscience. My right!)
A couple of times, I got into online arguments with people I otherwise like, that were so off the mark into name-calling and personal attacks that I had to back out because I felt that they were arguing just for the sake of arguing. (I did get apologies from the worst of them...but not online where others could see.)
Then, one day, the subject of our state Superintendent of Public Instruction came up. He has set up to have the state take over schools that are "failing" based on student test scores, and I can hardly wait to see how he and his take-over model will succeed over the life-long efforts of teachers who are working their butts off for their students. I decided to post a rant about it. At the beginning, I said that I felt a "rant" coming on...and those who didn't want to know it should not read it. Thereafter, one of my female radio friends (there aren't many of us around!) wrote that she didn't read it because she didn't want it to come between us. I think she thought I was posting about presidential politics. She is a conservative Christian, big time. Although we've never talked about it, I'm sure I don't share her politics...but you know what? I REALLY appreciate her saying what she did. Not only did she respect what I suggested (that people of another bent not read it), but by saying what she did, I came to realize that I was becoming too caught up, emotionally, in the whole Facebook/politics deal!
So...what's up with that? Obviously, I don't have a life outside my home! Social media only presents what people want it to present...the fact that no one sits in their home to keep them honest. I have endeavored to be honest and real, but at the end of the day, I understand that it is all just a game. I've had to back off and let the good times roll without me. I'm still fighting the mind splatter that comes with caring about people who think it is okay to attack others. Conservatives and liberals aren't wired the same. It isn't just a matter of politics. It's about whose ox is gored, and how passionate they are about the ox.
I love my country. I love my God. I love my family. I pray for all three every day of my life. I respect the Commander-in-Chief no matter what political party is behind him at any given time. Time to get over the political rhetoric and get back to living! In twenty years, no one is going to remember the importance of Facebook. I live my life as honestly and unselfishly as I can. So be it!
Over the past couple of years, I have become an active participant in the "social media" event called Facebook. For the most part, it has been fun to keep in touch with former students and old friends, but lately this has been challenging. Why? Because it is an election year. People whom I normally like and respect in real life have become blithering idiots when it comes to religion and politics online. I have no objections to people having their political opinions, and I support their right to say what they feel. But I also have an overgrown sense of fairness, and some of what I see people posting on Facebook is stuff they have copied and pasted from other sites with no regard to accuracy. Simply put, it is mindless regurgitation, made popular because it is fun to take pot-shots at people and politicians in the anonymity that comes with sitting alone at a computer and not face-to-face.
I am painfully aware that I am at odds with many of the people in the state of Indiana. I am a liberal thinker. (I honestly don't know how anyone who is a Christian or an educator can be anything else.) However, I consider myself an "independent" voter...not a Democrat. I have voted for Republican candidates in the past and might again in the future, but more-and-more, I am so turned off by the conservative rhetoric that gets spouted online that it's all I can do to keep my mouth shut. I have already "unfriended" a number of people on Facebook because I no longer care to read their posts that are offensive to me. And these are people that I like!
I won't even go into details, but I will say that the people who post offensive things come in three categories:
Super-patriotic (you don't support the troops if you don't "like" or repost emotional tugs at the heart. Perhaps they have forgotten that there is no draft now. The troops have CHOSEN this lifestyle.)
Super-religious (you don't love God or Jesus if you don't "like" or repost things they have posted. I'm sorry...my personal relationship with God does not require verification on social media!)
Super-political (you are a "moron" or an "idiot" if you don't vote for my candidate. Oops! I have issues that concern me. If your candidate/party does not address these in ways that are acceptable to me, I will vote my conscience. My right!)
A couple of times, I got into online arguments with people I otherwise like, that were so off the mark into name-calling and personal attacks that I had to back out because I felt that they were arguing just for the sake of arguing. (I did get apologies from the worst of them...but not online where others could see.)
Then, one day, the subject of our state Superintendent of Public Instruction came up. He has set up to have the state take over schools that are "failing" based on student test scores, and I can hardly wait to see how he and his take-over model will succeed over the life-long efforts of teachers who are working their butts off for their students. I decided to post a rant about it. At the beginning, I said that I felt a "rant" coming on...and those who didn't want to know it should not read it. Thereafter, one of my female radio friends (there aren't many of us around!) wrote that she didn't read it because she didn't want it to come between us. I think she thought I was posting about presidential politics. She is a conservative Christian, big time. Although we've never talked about it, I'm sure I don't share her politics...but you know what? I REALLY appreciate her saying what she did. Not only did she respect what I suggested (that people of another bent not read it), but by saying what she did, I came to realize that I was becoming too caught up, emotionally, in the whole Facebook/politics deal!
So...what's up with that? Obviously, I don't have a life outside my home! Social media only presents what people want it to present...the fact that no one sits in their home to keep them honest. I have endeavored to be honest and real, but at the end of the day, I understand that it is all just a game. I've had to back off and let the good times roll without me. I'm still fighting the mind splatter that comes with caring about people who think it is okay to attack others. Conservatives and liberals aren't wired the same. It isn't just a matter of politics. It's about whose ox is gored, and how passionate they are about the ox.
I love my country. I love my God. I love my family. I pray for all three every day of my life. I respect the Commander-in-Chief no matter what political party is behind him at any given time. Time to get over the political rhetoric and get back to living! In twenty years, no one is going to remember the importance of Facebook. I live my life as honestly and unselfishly as I can. So be it!
Monday, August 27, 2012
Drought Lessons
What a summer this has been! Here in the Indianapolis area, it was VERY hot and VERY dry. Record-breaking, actually. I have a few perennial plants that come up every year that I try to maintain, and this year, for the first time in several, I actually dared to plant annuals in the pots on my patio. What have I learned?
1. I have planted the same types of flowers in the patio pots for years. As long as I was home to keep them watered, all was well. They were very pretty. This year, I planted the same flowers...but they didn't do well, although I watered them daily. I (apparently falsely) believed that as long as they had water, they would be fine. What I didn't figure was that many days of over 100-degree temps would stunt them. Watering kept them alive but didn't keep them pretty. Now that the temps have gone down to "reasonable", the flowers are beginnng to look as nice as they should have looked much earlier in the season. Just in time for fall and frost!!!!
2. Grass gives up before weeds do. After many weeks without rainfall, the grass turned brown and crispy, but the mulberry "volunteers" and other wicked plants were as green as ever. I know it has to do with tap-roots, etc., but somehow it doesn't seem fair.
3. Now that the drought has so-called broken, the grass has greened, but the other stuff in the yard hasn't. There are brown patches everywhere, and when I came home after two weeks away at my daughter's, there was a big streak of large mushrooms in my front yard.
4. With the storm that provided rain for the plants came hail. Big hail. Hail big enough that many houses in Plainfield will be getting new roofs. Hail big enough that my perennial hostas out front were shredded, and the leaves that came down with the hail formed a drift on my sidewalk--all dead, just as if it were fall. The jury is still out if I will be able to get a new roof. I never had my roof checked after the last really big hailstorm in the mid-90s. I'm ready now.
5. My daughter and I decided to "put up" veggies and fruits this summer. Unfortunately, the drought and heat made that stuff hard to come by...and it won't get any easier. Here in Indiana, for example, green beans are hard to come by. (My sister's garden is just now beginning to produce.) I miss my garden!!!!!
6. It is yet to be determined how badly this year's harvest will affect market food prices. Meat is already out of sight. Produce and fruit will follow. I don't ever remember eggs being as expensive as they are now...and it isn't over yet.
I think it's time for Home Owner's Associations to give up and allow folks to plant what used to be called Victory Gardens in war time. Thankfully, I don't have an HOA to deal with here...just lots of tree roots. Unfortunately, many young folks don't know how to preserve foods. Time to learn!
1. I have planted the same types of flowers in the patio pots for years. As long as I was home to keep them watered, all was well. They were very pretty. This year, I planted the same flowers...but they didn't do well, although I watered them daily. I (apparently falsely) believed that as long as they had water, they would be fine. What I didn't figure was that many days of over 100-degree temps would stunt them. Watering kept them alive but didn't keep them pretty. Now that the temps have gone down to "reasonable", the flowers are beginnng to look as nice as they should have looked much earlier in the season. Just in time for fall and frost!!!!
2. Grass gives up before weeds do. After many weeks without rainfall, the grass turned brown and crispy, but the mulberry "volunteers" and other wicked plants were as green as ever. I know it has to do with tap-roots, etc., but somehow it doesn't seem fair.
3. Now that the drought has so-called broken, the grass has greened, but the other stuff in the yard hasn't. There are brown patches everywhere, and when I came home after two weeks away at my daughter's, there was a big streak of large mushrooms in my front yard.
4. With the storm that provided rain for the plants came hail. Big hail. Hail big enough that many houses in Plainfield will be getting new roofs. Hail big enough that my perennial hostas out front were shredded, and the leaves that came down with the hail formed a drift on my sidewalk--all dead, just as if it were fall. The jury is still out if I will be able to get a new roof. I never had my roof checked after the last really big hailstorm in the mid-90s. I'm ready now.
5. My daughter and I decided to "put up" veggies and fruits this summer. Unfortunately, the drought and heat made that stuff hard to come by...and it won't get any easier. Here in Indiana, for example, green beans are hard to come by. (My sister's garden is just now beginning to produce.) I miss my garden!!!!!
6. It is yet to be determined how badly this year's harvest will affect market food prices. Meat is already out of sight. Produce and fruit will follow. I don't ever remember eggs being as expensive as they are now...and it isn't over yet.
I think it's time for Home Owner's Associations to give up and allow folks to plant what used to be called Victory Gardens in war time. Thankfully, I don't have an HOA to deal with here...just lots of tree roots. Unfortunately, many young folks don't know how to preserve foods. Time to learn!
Thursday, August 16, 2012
The Fountain
A few years ago, one of my cousins in Wisconsin sent me a digital copy of an old photograph of our great-great-grandparents. It shows them sitting on the ledge of a fountain in a wooded spot with a gazebo nearby and a large building behind them. The photo fascinates me. I have researched the lives of these people for over thirty years, and each year something new is revealed. But here they are, looking at me in through the lens of a camera over 100 years after they died-- a bearded David dressed in his Civil War uniform, and his wife, Bethsheba, dourly dressed in Victorian black from head to toe.
The fountain, itself, is quite distinctive. It is tall with three tiers, each smaller than the one beneath it. Holding up the tiers is a base that has some sort of tall birds facing forward, with wings outstretched and touching each other. A work of art! I used to gaze at the photo, wondering where that fountain might be and how I could go about finding it to take a picture of me sitting in the same place that my g-g-grandparents did.
My daughter, ever the genealogist, always takes the lead in these searches. We knew that David and Bethsheba had lived the last few years of their lives in the Wisconsin Veteran's Home near Waupaca, Wisconsin. With a few little clicks on her computer, she sent a copy of the picture to an email address at the veteran's home. From there, it was forwarded to a couple of people, and within two or three days, we had the answer: the fountain had been on the Home's campus but had fallen into disrepair and removed, although it was in storage somewhere on the grounds. Awwww.... I wouldn't be able to get the picture that I wanted, but at least we knew where my g-g-grandparents were sitting so many years ago--the location of that magnificent fountain!
I've been in northern Illinois visiting my daughter and family for a couple of weeks. Last weekend, kind of as a last-minute thought, we left on a perfectly beautiful day on a drive to Waupaca, Wisconsin, just to walk the grounds where my g-g-grandparents had lived and were buried. It is a three-hour trip, almost exactly. We found the cemetery instantly, and even better, found the graves almost the minute we got there. I've seen pictures of their tombstone, which looked almost unreadable and covered with lichens. This trip, the stone was scrubbed almost pure white! (Thank you to whomever cares enough about the men and women buried there to tend to their tomstones. I appreciate it!)
After touring the cemetery for a few minutes, we drove across the road to the Wisconsin Veteran's Home, looking for where that silly fountain might have been. We were also looking for a statue of a Civil War soldier that appeared in another old family picture, thinking it must surely also be at the Home because the family was attending a "funeral in Waupaca" (which would have been one of the great-greats). Somehow, we entered the Home grounds at an entrance other than the main gate, so we weren't seeing anything promising, but we kept looking. Eventually, we did find the Mother Lode--the ring of a fountain that had been dedicated in 1894, with a gazebo nearby and a large building behind. Eureka! Even the oak trees in the little park matched the ones in the picture. What a feeling that was!The story of David and Bethsheba has long fascinated me because he left his wife and eight children in Peoria, Illinois, to go off to fight in the Civil War (for the bounty, I am told). He returned, then re-upped in a veteran's volunteer corps. Then his term of service was up and he went home. Unable to find work, he went off to "herd cattle" for a few months in South Dakota, and that was the last anyone heard from him. Awhile later, a man showed up on Bethsheba's doorstep saying that David had been killed by Indians in SD, so she was left to fend for herself and her eight kids. She couldn't read or write, and had no skills. I'm sure life wasn't easy for her. Eventually, in her older years, she went to live with one of her daughters and family in LaCrosse, WI. When Congress enacted a law allowing a pension for the widows of Civil War veterans, Bethsheba applied for it. She was turned down because she couldn't prove David was dead. The Bureau of Pensions started an investigation that took years, interviewing friends and neighbors to see if they might know of any reason why David would simply abandon his family. They also interviewed folks in the area of South Dakota where David was supposedly killed,, and sought to find out more about the man who brought the news of Davids' supposed death. Nothing ever turned up...but by now, it was thirty years after the war. David would have been in his 70s. Eventually, somehow, a very much alive David McKinney was found in Grants Pass, Oregon, drawing his own pension. His daughter was dispatched to Oregon and brought him back to LaCrosse, and Bethsheba took him back! It was all a mistunderstanding, he said. (I don't believe that for a second, but apparently Bethsheba did.) They eventually were admitted to the Wisconsin Veteran's Home where they lived out their last few years together.
