Treasured Moments

Christmas is a time of reflection and family and warm feelings, and I know I'm going to cry as I write this.  It is intensely personal.  If you aren't up for it, don't read it.  That's my spoiler alert!

1.  In the fall of 1964, my mother had to travel to be with my grandmother and grandfather at the Mayo Clinic to hope to find out what was wrong with my grandmother's legs.  (They found a benign grapefruit-sized tumor that was pressing on her spine.  The surgery to remove it was successful but the damage had already been done.  She remained in a wheelchair for the last 15 years of her life.)  I was a senior in high school.  In Mom's several-day absence, I had auditioned for--and got--the lead in my school's fall play.  That was a big deal.  Oak Park-River Forest High School had a real theater department, in a real auditorium, with real theater features, and the school was big enough with over 3,000 students that competition was stiff.

When we picked up Mom from the train station on her return, I finally found the chance to tell her my news from the back seat of the car.  She seemed delighted, even though exhausted and still worried about her mother's future.  A couple of days later, I heard pounding from the upstairs of the house. Never thought too much of it until I went to bed...and there, on my bedroom door, was a wooden star painted gold.  Just like on the dressing room doors of Hollywood stars!  I will never know whose idea it was.  I only knew that Dad made it in his wood shop at his school and that it meant my parents honored me.  I still have the star!!

2.  My parents footed the bill for my college education.  My housing, food, tuition, and books were covered...plus I was given an allowance.  Anything more, I had to work for...which I did.  (But not always wholeheartedly.)  Not too many kids these days can say that!  Graduation from Illinois State University---the same college that my father graduated from--was in June of 1969.  At that time, I was already engaged and we were making plans for an August wedding.  Still, on the day of Commencement, my father shook my hand and said, "Congratulations.  I have done everything I can for you by giving you a leg up on life.  The rest is up to you."  At first, I was confused, but then I understood that my parents weren't writing me off.  Dad was merely expressing pride in that they had provided me with something he'd had to work so hard for--a college education--and that I had gotten a degree and had already signed a contract for my first teaching position.  His job was done!

3.  As the wedding took place, my father walked me down the aisle of St. Stephen Protomartyr Church in Des Plaines, IL.  When he gave my hand to my future husband, he whispered in my ear, "Good bye, Peggy COVILL".  Why, Daddy...WHY would you want me to cry on my wedding day??!  My father, tough as he was, was a sentimental guy.  No matter what my last name is, I will always be a Covill!

4.  When my beloved grandmother died in 1975, I did okay...until the last pass by the casket after the visitation.  I broke down in sobs.  My mother held me up.  She said she wondered how long it would be before I gave in to the sorrow that I felt.  God bless my mother's understanding!

5.  The next day...the day of my grandmother's actual funeral--a VERY cold day in February---we had to practically carry my grandfather from the grave site.  He had lived out the vow of "til death do us part"...but now, he couldn't go.  He sobbed, "I don't want to leave her here!  I can't leave her here!" His children led him slowly and compassionately away, but it was not lost to me that this dear old man had been faithful in every way to the inevitable end.  I learned something about love that day.

6.  Ten years later, in early January of 1985, my 89-year-old grandfather was taken to the hospital with major pain in his gut.  It was determined that he had a bowel blockage.  No one wanted to operate on him because of his age, but the alternative was to let him be in horrible pain.  He went to surgery but never came out of the anesthetic.  He was comatose and unresponsive to stimuli for a week.

One night the next week, the hospital called me.  The nurse had been trying to locate my mother but couldn't find her.  I was next on the call list.  The nurse said, "Mr. Armstrong is on his way out."  I knew where my mother was, called her, then dashed off to the hospital which was only minutes away.  When I arrived, the nurse said, "When I called you, I thought Mr. Armstrong had expired, but he's rallied a bit".  But not for long.  I stood by his bed for no more than ten minutes as I watched the monitors go down and down and down until there was nothing left.  Suddenly, there was a priest by my side...and Sister Noreen, a grief nurse/nun.  (God bless Sister Noreen.  She was only doing her job, but I wanted her to go away.  We would all be fine!  I just needed time to prepare myself for the arrival of my mother and aunt.)

Nothing and no one will ever convince me that this whole thing was circumstantial.  I believe in my heart that my grandfather held on until someone from the family could be with him in his passing, and I was chosen.  All I could do was sob, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant."  And then I went (with Sister Noreen) to wait for my mother and her sister at the elevator.  They arrived right when I predicted they would.  I met them and told them that Popo had passed.  I felt my mother slump in my arms at the news; then we went into his room to see him.  I had already asked the nurse to remove all of the tubes and such for his daughters to see him.  On seeing him, my mother said, "Oh...that's not so bad."  And so, the torch was passed.  My grandfather had let me know in his passing that I was now in charge.  I did the best I could to be there for my family that night.

7.  My mother died suddenly on the day after Thanksgiving in 1986.  She'd had a "mild" stroke in October and was still in the hospital's rehab center when the bottom fell out.  Through all of this, there were problems between my husband and me.  He was angry with me because I'd had the audacity to host a garage sale at our house with a friend of mine without consulting him, so he announced that he would be taking HIS children to Indiana (we lived in IL at the time) to visit with his parents at Thanksgiving, even though that was in violation of the agreement we had made a scarce two years before to do one family or the other on the holiday, but not both.  This was MY family's turn...but it was not to be.  We were at odds for the entire month of October into November.  It wasn't nice.

That day, I wouldn't let our daughter go with him.  He griped about it, asking me what he was supposed to tell his parents about why she wasn't there.  I suggested that he should tell them the truth: that my family was in crisis and Megan needed to be home with me.  I'm not sure that ever sank in. In any case, he left for Indiana on the day after Thanksgiving...and my mother died that same day.

Will spare some of the sordid details.  Suffice it to say that my mother's sudden death left me numb.  My treasured moment in all of this heartache came at the grave site.  My in-laws...my husband's parents who didn't even really know my mother...came to the funeral.  And ONLY the funeral.  They didn't even stay for the bereavement dinner afterward.  They drove the four hours over and the four hours back just to be there for me.  All I know is that I turned from the casket at the cemetery, in my fog, into the arms of Artie McNary who had tears streaming down his face.  I'll never forget that. This dear man felt a compassion for me that I didn't ask for nor assumed.  What a blessing he was!

8.  Less than a month after my mother's death, I sat in the bleachers at Washington Elementary School in Pontiac, IL, for my daughter's Christmas concert.  She was 7.  She also had a solo in a song, The Friendly Beasts. I just blubbered, so sad and so proud...  Sad because my mother wasn't there to hear it, and proud because my child had such a clear and lovely voice.  Wow!  I still have a tape of that performance.  It will remain one of the shining moments of my memories.

9.  My father died while in my sister's care.  He had been ill, and she and her husband had been taking care of him at her house in Illinois.  At the time, I was involved in an Easter Cantata here in Indiana with a church somewhat west of my home, but I had a solo...and these cantatas are always emotional experiences. In any case, I came home from the first performance to a phone call from Shari that Dad had passed. There was one more cantata performance the next evening, and since I knew there was nothing I could do to help in IL, I stayed home for it.  I didn't know the other cantata cast members very well, but the night of the last performance, while we were putting on our costumes, I told the gals in the room that my father had died the night before.  One lady said, "Oh, how nice!"  I was shaken by that until she added, "Last night, your father couldn't hear you sing.  Tonight, he can!"
That made all the the difference in the world to me.  I still have no idea who she was...

My father was buried in his Navy uniform, as planned.  After he retired from the Navy, he became active in the American Legion in Streator, IL, serving as Adjutant and then Commander for many years.  At the funeral, one of his Legion friends stepped back from the casket, stood at attention, and saluted my father.  The final salute.  God bless the man!

10.  There are lighter memorable moments.  For example, the night my grandmother died, my mother and grandfather were at the hospital while my father waited for them at home.  When they returned to the homestead after she passed, my father greeted them at the door and embraced his father-in-law as they all sobbed...and in that moment, my grandfather's pants fell to the floor.  Laughter then intermingled with tears.  Stuff happens, not to be forgotten!

I guess all of these are treasured moments are because they occurred at times that tend to stay in memory. I hope I didn't dwell on deaths too much.  I have many more treasured moments, but not as poignant as these.  We remember things that happen in our most vulnerable times.  Why is that?? In any case, I pray that my future treasured moments are focused on the good stuff!      

    

    
  

Never Say No

Once upon a time, when I lived in Pontiac, IL, my church had a Mother-Daughter Banquet.  I was invited to sing as part of the entertainment.  I wish my memory were better about that whole thing, but as I remember it, I was somehow encouraged to sing a song from The Fantastiks, "Never Say No".  I had never seen the Fantastiks, nor did I have any sheet music for it, but the song seemed to fit the occasion.  I scrambled to find a way to get the song to the pianist (the Internet didn't exist back then)...and she did the rest.  In short order, she had the song down, even if she had to improvise!

Here is the song I sang:

 Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Dog's got to bark, a mule's got to bray.
Soldiers must fight and preachers must pray.
And children, I guess, must get their own way
The minute that you say no.

Why did the kids pour jam on the cat?
Raspberry jam all over the cat?
Why should the kids do something like that,
When all that we said was no?

My son was once afraid to swim.
The water made him wince.
Until I said he mustn't swim:
S'been swimmin' ever since!
S'been swimmin' ever since!

Why did the kids put beans in their ears?
No one can hear with beans in their ears.
After a while the reason appears.
They did it cause we said no.

Your daughter brings a young man in,
Says "Do you like him, Pa?"
Just say that he's a fool and then:
You've got a son-in-law!
You've got a son-in-law!

Sure as the June comes right after May!
Sure as the night comes right after day!
You can be sure the devil's to pay
The minute that you say no.
Make sure you never say no!

I write this today because it is still true of my daughter, today!  When I sang the song, she was probably 7 or 8.  Now, she's 35 and still stubborn beyond belief!  (She gets that from her father, thankyouverymuch.)  God has blessed me with a beautiful and intelligent daughter, and two grandchildren who are equally as handsome and smart.  All I need now is to figure out how to maneuver through the rest of my life without becoming a problem to them all, while they continue to be a worry to me?  When do parents ever get to let down?  When do we get to say "no"??  

Keeping Me Humble

There is nothing quite as good at making you aware of your frailty than having your back go out.  Understand that I've had more and more trouble with my back over the past two years--to the degree that my activities have been somewhat limited.  This time, however, I've been brought to my knees.  Not fun!

Two days ago, I woke up with severe pain in my lower back on the right side.  It only hurt when I moved.  Any movement that included bearing weight on my right leg was excruciating until I could rectify positions.  I could walk, slowly, if I hung onto things...furniture, doorknobs, counters, etc...but it was slow.  I felt like an invalid.  (Still do.)

I looked to painkillers.  The first day, I started out with two Extra Strength Tylenol, which helped a little.  When that began to wear off, I turned to Hydrocodone (Vicodin) that I had been prescribed a year or two ago for a toothache.  Am I immune to that stuff???  I've taken it twice in my life.  It didn't do anything for me, both times.  So much for that!

I was feeling very sorry for myself.  My Christmas tree was not up yet and some of the mess from when the family was here was still evident...but I couldn't move.  And then, out of nowhere, my yard guy/helper showed up without a call from me.  In short order, he had the tree put up, swept the kitchen floor, vacuumed the carpets, took out endless garbage bags, and ran a grocery errand for me.  Answer to prayer!

My helper also brought my rollater in from my car.  (A rollater is a walker on wheels with a seat on it.  Bought it a year ago from the Aldi's store up in my daughter's neck of the woods--on sale for $30.)  So far, it has been a godsend.  I don't use it often, but it sure is helping me now in my own house.

 Today, I have stayed medicated with the Tylenol.  It has helped, but I'm still moving very, very slowly.  This is not acceptable.  I have things to do!  Christmas is coming!  Not to worry about feeding myself.  There is plenty of food in the house, and I have been eating whatever I can get my hands on due to boredom.  Still, I would like to be a viable member of society rather than having to depend on others to get along!  Please God, let this back spasm go away.  What I dealt with before seemed bad enough.  This, however, is awful!

I am so thankful that I live in this little bungalow-on-a-slab.  No stairs.  Not sure how I would get along if I were struggling to get by with stairs in the mix.  You can feel pretty powerful when your body works as it used to...but when it doesn't, it's pretty humbling.  I am seeing life through new glasses.  All I want out of life right now is to find a way to walk unmedicated and without pain.  Prayers are gratefully accepted!

Now, THAT'S a Daddy!

Over the last month or so, there has been a change in the family dynamic.  My granddaughter is now living with her mother and stepfather in Lindenhurst, IL.  Big changes for a young gal!  Of course, all eyes have been on Robin to see how she fares in her new school situation, etc....but Ever Watchful Grandma Peggy has also had her eyes on the rest of the family to see how they react.  I have been particularly interested in my son-in-law who has no children of his own, although he has been stepfather to my grandkids for over four years now.  He's done very well.  Still, being a weekend stepfather isn't the same as having one of the children actually living in the house on a daily basis.  How would he handle it? And now, after seeing it first and second hand for myself, I wonder what I was worried about!

First of all, Denis refers to the children as "my daughter" and "my son".  He does not make the distinction that they are "steps"...and doesn't like it if someone else does, except in obvious situations. This indicates to me that he is dedicated to being the best parent he can be to them.  Ryan adores him--thinks of him as the "fun master" because they play together: Nerf guns, video games, pool...even soccer.  Ry is reluctant to let Denis shower or sleep in because those cut into their time together. (Poor Denis!)

Denis is a VERY patient man.  I have never heard him raise his voice in anger, even though he probably has had reason to--with or without the children.  (The only time I have seen him totally frustrated is when his parents were here from Russia and he had to do translation duty, Russian/English and English/Russian...and one other time when his wife had a meltdown.)  Now that Robin lives with him, she goes to him for help with her algebra homework (something I wasn't taught until 9th grade, btw...and she's only in 7th).  As a computer programmer, Denis is a whiz-bang in math.  That, coupled with his patience and ability to explain, makes for calm and peaceful homework help.  He doesn't do the work for Robin--just answers her questions.  Tonight, I guess she said, "Thank you for making my homework so much easier."  She has no clue how much worse things could be...or maybe she does.  (I was a teacher, but my daughter and I had what I called Homework Wars every night.)

Robin and Denis are doing Tae Kwon Do together.  Robin had expressed a desire to do it, and Denis wanted the exercise...so they complain about their sore muscles together.

Denis is not Robin and Ryan's father, but he does his best to be what they need from him when they are there.  Having been a stepparent myself, I am aware of the pitfalls that come with the territory. My then-spouse never, ever thanked me for treating his children like my own.  Once he actually said that I cared more about something else than his kids, even though I worked my fanny off for them.  I got the recognition I felt that I deserved from his parents, however, when Grandpa Artie told me how much he and his wife appreciated that I never drew divorce lines that kept them from seeing their grandchildren and us at the same time.  I never forgot that.  And I will never forget Denis for his efforts to be the best daddy possible, having been thrust into the role by way of marriage.

God bless the stepparents of the world who are actually putting the well-being of the children at heart.  Denis is truly a daddy, even though he has never had a child of his own.  I love him even more for that!      


  

Communication 101

Have you ever thought about how you communicate with your friends and loved ones?  You probably think you do well, but I'm here to tell you that you don't.

There are three facets to what you say to your people:  1) What you actually say, 2)  What you actually mean, and 3) What your intended audience hears.  For example, when your spouse says "Are you going to wear that shirt to the party?"  He/She really means, "It isn't acceptable for you to wear that shirt to the party."  What you hear is, "If you wear that shirt to the party, I will never forgive you."  Do you get it?

When my daughter was younger, her interpretation of what I said was similar to this.  I can remember a time or two when she told her friends that her mother would "kill" her for a certain behavior.  Yeah, right.  "I got yelled at for doing that" meant only that Mom didn't approve.  I never actually raised my voice or even made a big deal out of whatever it was she did.  (Maybe I should have!)

I was reminded of this during Thanksgiving weekend when the grandchildren were here.  I had bought multiple bags of candy that quickly disappeared with the children sneaking the pieces out of the kitchen.  The last bag had three pieces of Rolo candies in it.  I knew that Robin likes Rolos, so I asked (from the kitchen, where I was, to the living room, where Robin was), "Robin, are you the Rolo-eater in the family??"  That's what I said.  What I meant was, "There are three Rolos left.  Do you want them?"  What she heard was, "ARE YOU THE GUILTY PARTY THAT ATE MOST OF THE ROLOS?"  Robin's defensive response was that she ate Rolos but she wasn't the only one and hadn't eaten all of them.  My daughter and I looked at each other in amusement.  I had erred in my intended communication!  I corrected the communication and gave her the three remaining Rolos.  Sheesh!

My son-in-law has come to refer to a "Manslater"--something that Saturday Night Live touted as a handy tool for men to understand their wives.  We've laughed about it for a couple of years.  Denis, whose second language is English, is only just learning about the little nuances of communication in America.  In the meantime, as honest as I think I am in my efforts to make myself understood, I have figured out that even I get misinterpreted.

Life goes on!

Bless the Beasts (and the Children)

Back in the 70s, The Carpenters had a hit song with the same title as this blog post.  What I have to say has nothing to do with the song OR the movie of the same title.  I use it because it speaks to my Thanksgiving weekend experience...and the things we learn from our kids and our critters.

My family came to my little house-on-a-slab for the Thanksgiving holiday, including my grandkitty (Toffee).  We are always crammed into the abode but it always seems to work.  Toffee (aka Koshka--"cat" in Russian) was not at all skittish about her surroundings when let out of the carrier after the trip.  She's been here before.  This time, she seemed to feel at home, whatever that means to a cat.

Interestingly, capturing her to put her back in the carrier for the trip home is always tricky.  She has a sense about things.  Hallway doors to bedrooms get closed, limiting hiding spots.  People start putting on coats, suitcases come out, and people get really busy...and suddenly, the cat is largely absent.  This trip, she was hiding under the covers of Meg and Denis's bed.  An ominous lump.  When it came time for the carrier, Meg uncovered the cat who made a run for it, but ran TOWARD the humans instead of the other way.  Busted!  Poor Koshka!  How do they know??  (All of the dogs I ever had in my life seemed to know when the bathwater that was being drawn was for them instead of for the humans and could be found hiding under the bed.)

There were issues with the children, too.  Who knew that putting up Grandma's Christmas tree would strike fear in the hearts of the young'uns?  I can use the help and always considered it a family activity, but apparently we have put so much emphasis on it that the children run the other way!  Needless to say, I didn't press the issue.  My tree is still not up.  I actually considered not doing it at all, but that would be unAmerican!

Within 20 minutes of the family's departure, I was informed that Robin had left her iPod in her bedroom and would need to be mailed.  (Done.)  And after they returned home, they were missing Meg's Kindle and the charger cord for Robin's school-issued Chromebook.  I did a hunt complete with flashlight, standing on my head looking under things.  Nothing!  Thankfully, both were found with them before we all went to bed in our respective homes that night.  Whew!

There were other issues, of course, but nothing earth-shattering or that need to be discussed here.  I was happy to have the family here...and even happier that we shared Grandkid Time with the other Plainfield grandparents.  As we age, our collective time to spend with the grandchildren is limited. I'm not at all unhappy about how things went. God is good all the time!