When my sister's husband passed away three years ago, she was sick with pneumonia, and I had to take over some tasks that I wasn't totally prepared to do. I had suggested a bagpiper at the cemetery. She agreed. It added $150 to the ceremony, which made me wonder if it was worth it. It was! Roger was Canadian by birth. He and I--and all of us, perhaps--loved bagpipes. We, of course, asked for Amazing Grace, which is a common request.
As we arrived at the grave site on the day of the funeral, the piper was already in place and piping, as we gathered. Amazing Grace, of course, met all of us. And then the piper went into another song. I had heard it before. Couldn't put my finger on it. As the piper still played and slowly walked off toward the trees, it all seemed so right. Then we turned to the business of giving Roger to God's care.
A day or so later, in a private moment, I googled "bagpipe funeral songs" and there it was on YouTube. The song is called Going Home, and you don't even have to know lyrics to hear the words. Going home. Roger had gone Home. And I cried.
Home is a big deal for me. I never really had one much of my life, except my grandparents' farm. I didn't have roots in the military that was my childhood. I never really had friends that I could keep much longer than between stations for my dad. I think it made me weaker, yet stronger, all at the same time. When I had a child of my own, I wanted roots for her that I never had. I'm not sure that she understands how many decisions I made back in the day just to make sure she had the roots that hadn't been mine. It doesn't matter.
Why does this all come up today? Well...I subscribe to an online greeting card site that has beauty, fantasy, and class. Their latest offering for Thanksgiving has Going Home playing in the background.
Everyone wants to go home for Thanksgiving, right? Much more than Christmas, Thanksgiving is a time for families to gather and close ranks with whatever else has transpired with them in the past year. It is more personal, introspective, and necessary for personal peace.
When it is my time to "go home", I will do it with the understanding that God is in charge, with LOVE along the way. In the meantime, bring on Thanksgiving! I have so much to be thankful for.
Thursday, November 21, 2019
Monday, November 18, 2019
Whaaaat?
Not sure what happened to the beginning of my last post about friend Bill, or how to fix it. Just keep reading. It works itself out, I guess.
Sunday, November 17, 2019
My Blind Friend, Bill
I went to the funeral home last evening to attend the visitation for a friend's wife who had died from pancreatic cancer. He is an amateur radio operator, like me. His name is Bill; his radio call sign is KG9QJ; and he is blind.
My friendship with Bill and his wife was solid, back in the day. I took him to amateur radio flea markets/fairs (called "hamfests"), as well as provided transportation for him to and from his job, while his wife appreciated my efforts to help out.
<--amateur 25="" a="" about="" ago="" all="" and="" another="" are="" as="" became="" because="" been="" bill="" blind.="" call="" earrings="" efforts.="" errands="" for="" friends="" gave="" gold="" have="" he="" his="" i="" is="" jobs="" male.="" many="" me="" mine="" my="" nbsp="" needed="" never="" of="" often.="" only="" out.="" p="" probably="" radio="" same="" save="" share="" she="" sign="" so="" still="" stories="" sweetheart="" take="" talented="" thanks="" that="" the="" them="" there="" this="" time.="" to="" transportation="" very="" was="" wear="" wife="" will="" woman.="" years.="" years=""> Over time, I became inactive in amateur radio. (So many reasons--all excuses.) I lost touch with Bill and his family except for occasional posts from his wife, Jennette, on Facebook. And then, mere days ago, I got an email from a local amateur radio dude indicating that Bill's wife wasn't expected to live through the night. She was a friend of mine on Facebook, but I'd had no clue that she was even sick. She passed away that evening. The arrangements were made. I went to the funeral home Thursday afternoon to pay my respects but felt like such a jerk because I hadn't been there to help support him through his private hell.
When it was my turn to approach Bill and his eldest son, Tom, in the line, this is how things went:
Me: N9QT checking in.
Bill: Peggy?
Me: (hugging Bill for all he was worth and crying) Oh my God, Bill! I didn't even know Jennette was sick!
Bill: She didn't want anyone to know that she was sick.
Me: Well, thanks for not telling me, I guess, because I would have worried.
Bill: If you would get on the radio once in awhile, you might know some of these things...
Me: I KNEW you would say that! What will happen with you now?
Bill: I will continue to live in my home. You know where I live!
Me: Alone????
Bill: Who do you think was taking care of Jennette through all of this, with a little help from my right-hand man, here??? (Pointing at his eldest son.)
Me: (Turning to the people behind me in a short line.) Someone needs to remind this man that he's blind. He keeps forgetting!
There was some slight business about his hands being so warm when my own were very cold, and some other business about my rollator because I didn't want him to trip over it. He said, "That's exactly what Jennette had!" I said I would offer to be his caretaker but that I can barely take care of myself these days...blah, blah. I asked about his most recent Leader Dog, Driver. He said, "We call him D because he gets confused." In short, while I feel horrible for Bill for having lost his life's partner who was his love, his life, his breadwinner, his eyes, and his transportation, I came away knowing, once again, that this man is a survivor and will find his way through life as he always has. I feel like such a schmuck by comparison...
When I was still teaching high school, I brought Bill and Sparky (his first service dog) with me one day per year to be my lesson plan, for about three years. I shamelessly couldn't tie his presence into English lessons except to talk about communications. (Bill is a ham operator. I am a ham operator. Ham operators are all about communication, right?) No one ever challenged me. The kids loved talking to a blind dude to ask their adolescent questions. "How do you go to the bathroom?" "How do you know store clerks aren't cheating you when they give you change?" "Are you happy that you got blind later, or do you wish you'd been born blind?" And, of course, they loved having a dog in school. Once per period, we would take Sparky out of harness to show them the difference between a dog at work and a dog who was free. It was great.
My friendship with Bill and his wife was solid, back in the day. I took him to amateur radio flea markets/fairs (called "hamfests"), as well as provided transportation for him to and from his job, while his wife appreciated my efforts to help out.
<--amateur 25="" a="" about="" ago="" all="" and="" another="" are="" as="" became="" because="" been="" bill="" blind.="" call="" earrings="" efforts.="" errands="" for="" friends="" gave="" gold="" have="" he="" his="" i="" is="" jobs="" male.="" many="" me="" mine="" my="" nbsp="" needed="" never="" of="" often.="" only="" out.="" p="" probably="" radio="" same="" save="" share="" she="" sign="" so="" still="" stories="" sweetheart="" take="" talented="" thanks="" that="" the="" them="" there="" this="" time.="" to="" transportation="" very="" was="" wear="" wife="" will="" woman.="" years.="" years=""> Over time, I became inactive in amateur radio. (So many reasons--all excuses.) I lost touch with Bill and his family except for occasional posts from his wife, Jennette, on Facebook. And then, mere days ago, I got an email from a local amateur radio dude indicating that Bill's wife wasn't expected to live through the night. She was a friend of mine on Facebook, but I'd had no clue that she was even sick. She passed away that evening. The arrangements were made. I went to the funeral home Thursday afternoon to pay my respects but felt like such a jerk because I hadn't been there to help support him through his private hell.
When it was my turn to approach Bill and his eldest son, Tom, in the line, this is how things went:
Me: N9QT checking in.
Bill: Peggy?
Me: (hugging Bill for all he was worth and crying) Oh my God, Bill! I didn't even know Jennette was sick!
Bill: She didn't want anyone to know that she was sick.
Me: Well, thanks for not telling me, I guess, because I would have worried.
Bill: If you would get on the radio once in awhile, you might know some of these things...
Me: I KNEW you would say that! What will happen with you now?
Bill: I will continue to live in my home. You know where I live!
Me: Alone????
Bill: Who do you think was taking care of Jennette through all of this, with a little help from my right-hand man, here??? (Pointing at his eldest son.)
Me: (Turning to the people behind me in a short line.) Someone needs to remind this man that he's blind. He keeps forgetting!
There was some slight business about his hands being so warm when my own were very cold, and some other business about my rollator because I didn't want him to trip over it. He said, "That's exactly what Jennette had!" I said I would offer to be his caretaker but that I can barely take care of myself these days...blah, blah. I asked about his most recent Leader Dog, Driver. He said, "We call him D because he gets confused." In short, while I feel horrible for Bill for having lost his life's partner who was his love, his life, his breadwinner, his eyes, and his transportation, I came away knowing, once again, that this man is a survivor and will find his way through life as he always has. I feel like such a schmuck by comparison...
When I was still teaching high school, I brought Bill and Sparky (his first service dog) with me one day per year to be my lesson plan, for about three years. I shamelessly couldn't tie his presence into English lessons except to talk about communications. (Bill is a ham operator. I am a ham operator. Ham operators are all about communication, right?) No one ever challenged me. The kids loved talking to a blind dude to ask their adolescent questions. "How do you go to the bathroom?" "How do you know store clerks aren't cheating you when they give you change?" "Are you happy that you got blind later, or do you wish you'd been born blind?" And, of course, they loved having a dog in school. Once per period, we would take Sparky out of harness to show them the difference between a dog at work and a dog who was free. It was great.
Then, one year, when I was directing the school play, Bill offered to help...so I let him. He wired a bell so that it could be rung by a switch to imitate a telephone ring. He suggested changes, etc...and the kids loved having him at rehearsals. We didn't have an auditorium...just a multi-purpose room. Poor Sparky couldn't get any traction on that floor so mostly gave up on romping with the kids when he wasn't in harness. The kids loved having him there, and I appreciated the help.
I had cast a set of fraternal twins for the play. Jai and Jonah. All went well through rehearsals, but then one of them, Jonah, had a tonsillectomy ten days before opening night. Uh.... Jonah had a big part. The afternoon of dress rehearsal, he started spitting up blood into the trash can. I had to call dress rehearsal off early, send the kids home, and drive Jonah home because his emergency number couldn't be reached. He ended up in the hospital to have his throat cauterized, and I ended up having to find a person who could take his place in the play with less than a day's notice. The story gets longer...but I'll cut to the chase here.
Each year, there were two performances of our plays. Opening night is always full of nerves. The next night, the finale, is the one where the director needs to be on the watch. I never experienced this in my own performances when I was in school, but kids in these small semi-rural schools become short-timers, thinking of pranks to pull. In all of the plays I have directed through the years, I gather the kids together on opening night to tell them that I have done everything I can do for them...that the performance is theirs...and I would be directing activities from the behind the audience via radio to my friend Bill who was backstage.
And then it happened. In one particular scene of the final performance, Bill and service dog Sparky walked to the middle of the stage in full view of the audience, stopped, and said, "Sparky, I don't think this is the restroom"...and walked off. OMG! He had thrown in with the heathens! When I collared him about it later, he said he did it in order to prevent a promised on-stage de-pantsing if he didn't. It was funny. Not sure anyone in the audience understood it because it was an inside joke for the kids, but it got a laugh. Gee, thanks, Bill!
Bill and I go back a long way. We helped each other out whenever we could. He maintained vending machines in rest areas and other places (like the Girls' School, which was a reformatory). And the blind jokes...Oh, the blind jokes!
Me: You were on a ladder to check out your radio antenna? Are you nuts??
Bill: I'm okay if I don't look down!
Each year, there were two performances of our plays. Opening night is always full of nerves. The next night, the finale, is the one where the director needs to be on the watch. I never experienced this in my own performances when I was in school, but kids in these small semi-rural schools become short-timers, thinking of pranks to pull. In all of the plays I have directed through the years, I gather the kids together on opening night to tell them that I have done everything I can do for them...that the performance is theirs...and I would be directing activities from the behind the audience via radio to my friend Bill who was backstage.
And then it happened. In one particular scene of the final performance, Bill and service dog Sparky walked to the middle of the stage in full view of the audience, stopped, and said, "Sparky, I don't think this is the restroom"...and walked off. OMG! He had thrown in with the heathens! When I collared him about it later, he said he did it in order to prevent a promised on-stage de-pantsing if he didn't. It was funny. Not sure anyone in the audience understood it because it was an inside joke for the kids, but it got a laugh. Gee, thanks, Bill!
Bill and I go back a long way. We helped each other out whenever we could. He maintained vending machines in rest areas and other places (like the Girls' School, which was a reformatory). And the blind jokes...Oh, the blind jokes!
Me: You were on a ladder to check out your radio antenna? Are you nuts??
Bill: I'm okay if I don't look down!
At a nightclub with Rickie and the Rowdies performing:
Performer: We might have someone who will be topless!
Crowd: Yay!
Bill: (shouting out) That won't impress me a bit!
Walking into a Subway to order food:
Employee: Well, aren't you cute!
Bill: Thank you!
Employee: I was talking to the dog, but you're cute, too!
At a hamfest (flea market for amateur radio):
Ham friend: (To Bill) There is a guy down there (pointing to a place at the venue) who is selling extension poles for $10.
Me: Bill can't see your directions.
Ham friend: (Leaning down and talking to the service dog.) There is a guy down there who is selling extension poles for $10...
On the road from a hamfest, with Bill and dog in the car:
Bill: You turned the wrong way.
Me: How do you know that?
Bill: The sun is in my eyes. I notice the light.
Me: You are blind and are telling me I'm going the wrong direction??
Ham friend on the radio: Peggy, where are you? We are looking for yooo...
It absolutely killed me that a blind dude corrected me, but I was definitely going the wrong direction!
Once, I wanted to put an electrical outlet on my patio. Bill volunteered. I had my doubts, but it happened. The only thing I had to do was tell him the color of the wires involved. He not only put it together but made it so that the outlet would be "hot" whether the porch light was on or not. I was in awe...
I love Bill, not as a blind man, but as a friend. His blindness only sweetens the pot of his potentiality. You think you've got problems? This man--THIS MAN--is all about being a survivor. He humbles me. My friend Bill is everything we should all hope to be!
Saturday, November 2, 2019
The Best Money I Ever Spent
As the gift-giving season approaches, I am reminiscent of gifts I have given, whether Christmas or not, that represent money well-spent. Truly, I have received wonderful gifts in my lifetime, probably the greatest of which was from an anonymous someone who paid the bank loan I had taken out to put a new roof on my house just last year. I can't come close to paying that forward to anyone, but there are a few gifts I have been able to give that made me feel proud, and several of them were just last-minute brainstorms. Here are some of them of which I am most proud and happy:
1. My daughter was married and expecting their first child. She lived on a golf course where her husband was superintendent. He was often out on the course, which left her mostly home alone during the days, (six miles from my house). On a whim, I bought them FRS radios so they could at least be in contact. That gave way to cheap Tracfones, as cell phone technology progressed. I couldn't afford to buy them real cell phones because they all required good credit and contracts, neither of which I could supply at the time, but at least I could feel satisfied that she could contact her husband should his presence be really needed.
2. My daughter was married and still expecting their first child. She still lived on the golf course. On Mother's Day of that year, I knew that she would be working in the club house on the course in the morning. They didn't have much and were pinching pennies. I had purchased a maternity outfit for her for her very first Mother's Day, and decided to show up with breakfast to make it special. She didn't know I was coming. I took her a McDonald's sausage biscuit (her favorite), a drink, and the maternity outfit. The clubhouse wasn't busy, so we sat and visited on Mother's Day morning, enjoying each other's company. She was delighted, which made ME delighted, and we had some nice Mommy's Day moments.
3. After that first baby was born--the delight of my life--along came Christmas four months later. I decided that the best thing I could do for my daughter and hubby would be to give them a date night out together, alone. They were inveterate Colts fans, so why not a game, plus dinner? (This is when the Home of the Colts was still the Hoosier Dome and before Colts' Super Bowl fame.) I bought tickets online. Added money for dinner wherever they chose. Added more money for parking downtown. And then, OMG, I couldn't send them to a Colt's game without Colts' apparel! Bought a sweatshirt for one and a long-sleeved t-shirt for the other, then (of course) added babysitting. This was in 2002. It was an expensive gift (for me) at that time, but I couldn't touch the same experience today for what I spent. And you know what? They went. They had a good time. The baby and I survived. All was well! I think it was the first time they had been out together without the baby since she had been born. That, in itself, made every penny spent totally worth it to me.
4. Over time, that marriage dissolved. Next thing I knew, my daughter and grandchildren moved in with me...and then, almost as suddenly a couple of years later, the grandkids went to live with their father in Muncie, IN, while their mother went to live with a new fellow in Terre Haute. He was in grad school at Indiana State University there and would be graduating in late December, then the two of them were leaving for California where he would be taking a position with Microsoft in Silicon Valley. I hardly knew him and didn't think I knew my daughter anymore, so I was wandering around Walmart looking for ideas about what to get for them mere days before they departed. I noticed that Garmin GPS units were on sale. I knew nothing about GPS technology except that everyone was getting them, so I bought one for them because I knew they didn't have one. Within minutes of opening the gift on the day of our gift exchange, the young man who would become my son-in-law in a couple of months had that silly GPS installed in the car and ready to operate as if he had been born with one in his hands! It served them well on their trip westward and for years thereafter, with updates along the way, until they found other better technologies and gave "Linda" to his parents. All for $89 sale price. Yeah...worth it!
5. When the grandchildren were suddenly shipped off to Muncie, my granddaughter's Girl Scout leader, who had connections with the elementary school, delivered Robbie's second grade "effects" to me. Among them was a water color wash painting of a seascape. There was a whale and a dolphin, quite recognizable, and a treasure chest at the bottom, and other things of interest. I was quite stricken with the artistic talent of that picture, done by a 7-year-old. My granddaughter!!! This was in the fall. As far as I was concerned, that picture deserved a frame, but it was a bastard size. For months, I searched for a frame that would work. Up and down the aisles of Hobby Lobby, Michael's, anyplace that had any kind of a frame selection. And then, out of seemingly nowhere, a frame that would work appeared just before Christmas. On sale, it was $45. Yikes! That was a lot of money for a relatively simple picture frame, but I bought it, put the picture in the frame, wrapped it up, and hoped my grandbaby would appreciate my sacrifice.
Christmas Day arrived. Robin opened the wrapped picture. She didn't seem particularly impressed, but still waters run deep. As her father and family drove up for our Christmas feast, she grabbed the picture and sat on the couch with the picture propped up on her lap, facing the door for all to see, awaiting their praise. She really was proud of that picture, and so was I !
The picture was hung on the wall of her bedroom in Zion, IL. where the family had moved--a room that she shared with her step-sister. Many not-so-nice things happened, thereafter, and both of my grandchildren went to live with my daughter and son-in-law who had moved to Illinois to be closer. Somehow, that glorious picture didn't survive. Nobody admits to knowing whatever happened to it. But for that one moment in time, it made my granddaughter feel special, no matter the cost of the frame, and that was most important to me.
6. When my brother-in-law died, I arrived at my sister's barely in time. I got there on Monday afternoon. He passed early on Tuesday morning. It wasn't my mission to be there for him. He was already in God's hands. I came because my sister needed me. She was horribly sick with pneumonia. The doctor wanted to put her in the hospital, but she had too many things to attend to, which put me in Disaster Mode. The family whirled around us. I ordered her to her chair and tried to take over. There were many things to do. My right-hand-man became grand-nephew Nick. We ran errands with him providing directions and muscles to do what we needed to do. There were some negative issues along the way, but I relied on Nick to be family communicator (via cell phone), strength mule, and navigator. He had no income. At one point, I pulled out a $20 bill to give him. At first, he didn't want to take it but pocketed that twenty quickly when I said he had earned it. Easy money for both of us!
7. I've been to Seattle at least twice a year since my daughter and family moved there four years ago. I've seen many places and sights, thanks to my family, but had steadfastly refused visits to the Space Needle, due to prices. Parking alone costs $30. Grumble, grumble. Plus at least $19 admission each...for what??
A couple of years ago in May, Grandma Judy and I went to Seattle together to attend our granddaughter's performances in Les Miserables. We also had a delightful lunch on Whidbey Island, outdoors on a lovely spring day, which I bought. I also paid for a tank or two of gas in all of our travels. And then we did the whole Space Needle thing. I resisted. There were five of us, representing a LOT of money. Yeah...big deal. We went up the big outside elevator to take us to the top--something that would normally freak me out--but the instant I stepped out of that elevator, I was faced with a view of Seattle, Puget Sound, Mount Rainier, and all other points below that showed me that every cent paid that day was worth it! This was one experience I didn't totally pay for but was awed by the experience. What a breathtaking view of Seattle!
8. Last winter, the Seattle area experienced horrendous snowfalls. Were it in the Midwest, it wouldn't have been a big deal, but the PNW is not equipped to deal with much snow. If I remember correctly, the normal expected snowfall, total, in my daughter's area is three inches. Last winter, they had over 16 inches, with one snowfall happening before a previous one could be cleared, and no one equipped to deal with it. To make matters worse, my family lives on a hill. Mail wasn't being delivered. Stores were totally out of products with no way of getting them restocked. It was Snowmaggedon! Before all of this happened, I had packed up a box full of Girl Scout cookies and shipped them out. The shipping alone cost more than the cookies, and it occurred to me that there are Girl Scout cookies even in Washington, but I damned the torpedoes and sent them anyway.
As it happened, the cookies finally arrived on yet another snowy day. The stores were bare and families hadn't been able to get out because the hills of Washington were too icy to travel. My family was also trapped at home, so the goodies in the household had all but dried up. The cookies arrived on the first day that USPS could get through to their house, so it represented a "box of love from Grandma". Worth it? Yes. Do it again? Probably. Life isn't always about being sensible, right?
9. Do you ever have a hankering for something that you can't have? You can't have it because it simply doesn't exist where you are?? My daughter and family put themselves on a no-sugar diet last year. They reserved one day per week to have sweet treats. One particular week, she was in a quandary about how to expend her sweet calories. Sugar cream pie came to mind. It's one of our family's favorites. Unfortunately, that particular brand (Wick's) is an Indiana thing. It's just not available outside of the state. I got online and discovered that I could send six Wick's Sugar Cream Pies to Washington for $153 plus tax and shipping. WAY too much money just for pies, right? Yes. But I did it. And I'm not sorry I did it. I had sent my family a little taste of home, and I felt good about that!
It really IS better to give than it is to receive. I have no regrets in that area of my life!
1. My daughter was married and expecting their first child. She lived on a golf course where her husband was superintendent. He was often out on the course, which left her mostly home alone during the days, (six miles from my house). On a whim, I bought them FRS radios so they could at least be in contact. That gave way to cheap Tracfones, as cell phone technology progressed. I couldn't afford to buy them real cell phones because they all required good credit and contracts, neither of which I could supply at the time, but at least I could feel satisfied that she could contact her husband should his presence be really needed.
2. My daughter was married and still expecting their first child. She still lived on the golf course. On Mother's Day of that year, I knew that she would be working in the club house on the course in the morning. They didn't have much and were pinching pennies. I had purchased a maternity outfit for her for her very first Mother's Day, and decided to show up with breakfast to make it special. She didn't know I was coming. I took her a McDonald's sausage biscuit (her favorite), a drink, and the maternity outfit. The clubhouse wasn't busy, so we sat and visited on Mother's Day morning, enjoying each other's company. She was delighted, which made ME delighted, and we had some nice Mommy's Day moments.
3. After that first baby was born--the delight of my life--along came Christmas four months later. I decided that the best thing I could do for my daughter and hubby would be to give them a date night out together, alone. They were inveterate Colts fans, so why not a game, plus dinner? (This is when the Home of the Colts was still the Hoosier Dome and before Colts' Super Bowl fame.) I bought tickets online. Added money for dinner wherever they chose. Added more money for parking downtown. And then, OMG, I couldn't send them to a Colt's game without Colts' apparel! Bought a sweatshirt for one and a long-sleeved t-shirt for the other, then (of course) added babysitting. This was in 2002. It was an expensive gift (for me) at that time, but I couldn't touch the same experience today for what I spent. And you know what? They went. They had a good time. The baby and I survived. All was well! I think it was the first time they had been out together without the baby since she had been born. That, in itself, made every penny spent totally worth it to me.
4. Over time, that marriage dissolved. Next thing I knew, my daughter and grandchildren moved in with me...and then, almost as suddenly a couple of years later, the grandkids went to live with their father in Muncie, IN, while their mother went to live with a new fellow in Terre Haute. He was in grad school at Indiana State University there and would be graduating in late December, then the two of them were leaving for California where he would be taking a position with Microsoft in Silicon Valley. I hardly knew him and didn't think I knew my daughter anymore, so I was wandering around Walmart looking for ideas about what to get for them mere days before they departed. I noticed that Garmin GPS units were on sale. I knew nothing about GPS technology except that everyone was getting them, so I bought one for them because I knew they didn't have one. Within minutes of opening the gift on the day of our gift exchange, the young man who would become my son-in-law in a couple of months had that silly GPS installed in the car and ready to operate as if he had been born with one in his hands! It served them well on their trip westward and for years thereafter, with updates along the way, until they found other better technologies and gave "Linda" to his parents. All for $89 sale price. Yeah...worth it!
5. When the grandchildren were suddenly shipped off to Muncie, my granddaughter's Girl Scout leader, who had connections with the elementary school, delivered Robbie's second grade "effects" to me. Among them was a water color wash painting of a seascape. There was a whale and a dolphin, quite recognizable, and a treasure chest at the bottom, and other things of interest. I was quite stricken with the artistic talent of that picture, done by a 7-year-old. My granddaughter!!! This was in the fall. As far as I was concerned, that picture deserved a frame, but it was a bastard size. For months, I searched for a frame that would work. Up and down the aisles of Hobby Lobby, Michael's, anyplace that had any kind of a frame selection. And then, out of seemingly nowhere, a frame that would work appeared just before Christmas. On sale, it was $45. Yikes! That was a lot of money for a relatively simple picture frame, but I bought it, put the picture in the frame, wrapped it up, and hoped my grandbaby would appreciate my sacrifice.
Christmas Day arrived. Robin opened the wrapped picture. She didn't seem particularly impressed, but still waters run deep. As her father and family drove up for our Christmas feast, she grabbed the picture and sat on the couch with the picture propped up on her lap, facing the door for all to see, awaiting their praise. She really was proud of that picture, and so was I !
The picture was hung on the wall of her bedroom in Zion, IL. where the family had moved--a room that she shared with her step-sister. Many not-so-nice things happened, thereafter, and both of my grandchildren went to live with my daughter and son-in-law who had moved to Illinois to be closer. Somehow, that glorious picture didn't survive. Nobody admits to knowing whatever happened to it. But for that one moment in time, it made my granddaughter feel special, no matter the cost of the frame, and that was most important to me.
6. When my brother-in-law died, I arrived at my sister's barely in time. I got there on Monday afternoon. He passed early on Tuesday morning. It wasn't my mission to be there for him. He was already in God's hands. I came because my sister needed me. She was horribly sick with pneumonia. The doctor wanted to put her in the hospital, but she had too many things to attend to, which put me in Disaster Mode. The family whirled around us. I ordered her to her chair and tried to take over. There were many things to do. My right-hand-man became grand-nephew Nick. We ran errands with him providing directions and muscles to do what we needed to do. There were some negative issues along the way, but I relied on Nick to be family communicator (via cell phone), strength mule, and navigator. He had no income. At one point, I pulled out a $20 bill to give him. At first, he didn't want to take it but pocketed that twenty quickly when I said he had earned it. Easy money for both of us!
7. I've been to Seattle at least twice a year since my daughter and family moved there four years ago. I've seen many places and sights, thanks to my family, but had steadfastly refused visits to the Space Needle, due to prices. Parking alone costs $30. Grumble, grumble. Plus at least $19 admission each...for what??
A couple of years ago in May, Grandma Judy and I went to Seattle together to attend our granddaughter's performances in Les Miserables. We also had a delightful lunch on Whidbey Island, outdoors on a lovely spring day, which I bought. I also paid for a tank or two of gas in all of our travels. And then we did the whole Space Needle thing. I resisted. There were five of us, representing a LOT of money. Yeah...big deal. We went up the big outside elevator to take us to the top--something that would normally freak me out--but the instant I stepped out of that elevator, I was faced with a view of Seattle, Puget Sound, Mount Rainier, and all other points below that showed me that every cent paid that day was worth it! This was one experience I didn't totally pay for but was awed by the experience. What a breathtaking view of Seattle!
8. Last winter, the Seattle area experienced horrendous snowfalls. Were it in the Midwest, it wouldn't have been a big deal, but the PNW is not equipped to deal with much snow. If I remember correctly, the normal expected snowfall, total, in my daughter's area is three inches. Last winter, they had over 16 inches, with one snowfall happening before a previous one could be cleared, and no one equipped to deal with it. To make matters worse, my family lives on a hill. Mail wasn't being delivered. Stores were totally out of products with no way of getting them restocked. It was Snowmaggedon! Before all of this happened, I had packed up a box full of Girl Scout cookies and shipped them out. The shipping alone cost more than the cookies, and it occurred to me that there are Girl Scout cookies even in Washington, but I damned the torpedoes and sent them anyway.
As it happened, the cookies finally arrived on yet another snowy day. The stores were bare and families hadn't been able to get out because the hills of Washington were too icy to travel. My family was also trapped at home, so the goodies in the household had all but dried up. The cookies arrived on the first day that USPS could get through to their house, so it represented a "box of love from Grandma". Worth it? Yes. Do it again? Probably. Life isn't always about being sensible, right?
9. Do you ever have a hankering for something that you can't have? You can't have it because it simply doesn't exist where you are?? My daughter and family put themselves on a no-sugar diet last year. They reserved one day per week to have sweet treats. One particular week, she was in a quandary about how to expend her sweet calories. Sugar cream pie came to mind. It's one of our family's favorites. Unfortunately, that particular brand (Wick's) is an Indiana thing. It's just not available outside of the state. I got online and discovered that I could send six Wick's Sugar Cream Pies to Washington for $153 plus tax and shipping. WAY too much money just for pies, right? Yes. But I did it. And I'm not sorry I did it. I had sent my family a little taste of home, and I felt good about that!
It really IS better to give than it is to receive. I have no regrets in that area of my life!
Friday, November 1, 2019
Update on the Alien Tomato
My sprouted tomato got quite a bit of attention on Facebook. No one had ever seen anything like it before. Me, too.
The first day, it was a mystery.
The second day, more sprouts showed up on the outside of the tomato.
The third day, the sprouts showed signs of decay.
The fourth day, the whole tomato began to rot.
I considered my options. The sprouts were terribly fragile. There was no way I could have planted the whole tomato, and planting just the sprouts would have been horribly labor-intensive with no promise of success. I would have to purchase peat pots, soil, and watch the sprouts daily. Been there and done that before. Knew it wouldn't be successful.
My housekeeper came on the fifth day. She and I both took pictures of the tomato, and then...in a moment of clarity...pitched what I had come to name Audrey III in the trash.
One of my FB friends looked up the phenomenon. It's called vivipary, caused by a number of conditions. It is all edible, but I wasn't ready to put Audrey on a BLT sandwich.
Thus endeth the saga of an overripe tomato. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. God bless the name of the Lord.
The first day, it was a mystery.
The second day, more sprouts showed up on the outside of the tomato.
The third day, the sprouts showed signs of decay.
The fourth day, the whole tomato began to rot.
I considered my options. The sprouts were terribly fragile. There was no way I could have planted the whole tomato, and planting just the sprouts would have been horribly labor-intensive with no promise of success. I would have to purchase peat pots, soil, and watch the sprouts daily. Been there and done that before. Knew it wouldn't be successful.
My housekeeper came on the fifth day. She and I both took pictures of the tomato, and then...in a moment of clarity...pitched what I had come to name Audrey III in the trash.
One of my FB friends looked up the phenomenon. It's called vivipary, caused by a number of conditions. It is all edible, but I wasn't ready to put Audrey on a BLT sandwich.
Thus endeth the saga of an overripe tomato. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. God bless the name of the Lord.
The Halloween That Almost Wasn't
Every year on Halloween, I:
*put a large bowl of candy on the fireplace mantel near the front door;
*put my bat wreath (with a motion sensor that makes its red eyes flash and gives a maniacal laugh when someone approaches) on the door,
*rake the leaves off the sidewalk that leads to the front stoop,
*put my Halloween flag on the little garden flag standard by the door,
*turn on the porch light,
*plop my festive court jester hat on my head,
then sit down to await the "ghoulies and ghosties and three-leggedy beasties".
And every year on Halloween, I greet the little monsters and gangsters, dinosaurs and superheroes, requiring that they actually say "Trick-or-Treat" before I give out candy, and take a moment to guess what their costumes represent. It's fun.
The trick-or-treat hours in Plainfield are 5:30 PM to 8:30 PM, and Plainfield parents generally stick to those hours.
Traditionally, the first ones at the door are the very little ones--maybe first-timers--accompanied by Mom or Dad or both--sometimes with older siblings who show them the ropes; sometimes infant siblings who can't even walk yet; and sometimes with the family dog (also in costume). As it gets dark, the clientele changes to the older ones, with the moms and dads standing on the sidewalk by the street. Then, too, some arrive by vehicle. A carload of them may get dropped off at the beginning of a block with the car slowly following close behind to the end of the street.
And every year, when the last of the kidlets go home for the night, I sit down to write a blog entry about all of the fun things I saw or experienced.
THIS year, however, was different. Why??
As October 31st matured, the temperatures dropped to wind chills in the 20s, the wind whipped into Wind Advisory mode, and what is that I see? Snow?? Yes, snow! It snowed all afternoon. Fortunately, none of it really stuck, but it didn't make for much fun for marauding children to be out at night.
I couldn't get the leaves raked because they were coming down faster than any effort I could make.
I didn't wear my jester hat because I couldn't find it. (That is to say that it wasn't where it usually is, which means that either my housekeeper or I changed its location when my mind didn't.)
One hour into trick-or-treat time, I hadn't had that first knock on the door. I stuck my head out to see if there were anyone on the street. I did notice that there weren't many porch lights on in my block (what a bunch of Scrooges!) and...oh yes...there were some costumed children getting out of a car halfway down. Finally, a party of four knocked and threatened for a treat. I told them they were my first trick-or-treaters...that I guessed it was too nasty out for kids. The mom standing on the sidewalk by the street chuckled and yelled out, "We are dedicated!"
I had another group of two children.
And close to closing time, I had another group of two. Both were boys, probably of middle school age. The tallest of the two mentioned that they were probably the last ones still out--that the rest of their group gave up an hour or two ago. I totally understood why.
Total number of goblins last night: eight. Eight!
Some communities changed their trick-or-treating to today, based on the weather forecast. Plainfield didn't. I will keep the still-full bowl of candy by the door just in case. What remains will go to the Homeless Feeding Mission that my church provides to Indy's homeless, and a couple of local areas that have hungry people.
Happy Nasty Halloween. On to Thanksgiving!
*put a large bowl of candy on the fireplace mantel near the front door;
*put my bat wreath (with a motion sensor that makes its red eyes flash and gives a maniacal laugh when someone approaches) on the door,
*rake the leaves off the sidewalk that leads to the front stoop,
*put my Halloween flag on the little garden flag standard by the door,
*turn on the porch light,
*plop my festive court jester hat on my head,
then sit down to await the "ghoulies and ghosties and three-leggedy beasties".
And every year on Halloween, I greet the little monsters and gangsters, dinosaurs and superheroes, requiring that they actually say "Trick-or-Treat" before I give out candy, and take a moment to guess what their costumes represent. It's fun.
The trick-or-treat hours in Plainfield are 5:30 PM to 8:30 PM, and Plainfield parents generally stick to those hours.
Traditionally, the first ones at the door are the very little ones--maybe first-timers--accompanied by Mom or Dad or both--sometimes with older siblings who show them the ropes; sometimes infant siblings who can't even walk yet; and sometimes with the family dog (also in costume). As it gets dark, the clientele changes to the older ones, with the moms and dads standing on the sidewalk by the street. Then, too, some arrive by vehicle. A carload of them may get dropped off at the beginning of a block with the car slowly following close behind to the end of the street.
And every year, when the last of the kidlets go home for the night, I sit down to write a blog entry about all of the fun things I saw or experienced.
THIS year, however, was different. Why??
As October 31st matured, the temperatures dropped to wind chills in the 20s, the wind whipped into Wind Advisory mode, and what is that I see? Snow?? Yes, snow! It snowed all afternoon. Fortunately, none of it really stuck, but it didn't make for much fun for marauding children to be out at night.
I couldn't get the leaves raked because they were coming down faster than any effort I could make.
I didn't wear my jester hat because I couldn't find it. (That is to say that it wasn't where it usually is, which means that either my housekeeper or I changed its location when my mind didn't.)
One hour into trick-or-treat time, I hadn't had that first knock on the door. I stuck my head out to see if there were anyone on the street. I did notice that there weren't many porch lights on in my block (what a bunch of Scrooges!) and...oh yes...there were some costumed children getting out of a car halfway down. Finally, a party of four knocked and threatened for a treat. I told them they were my first trick-or-treaters...that I guessed it was too nasty out for kids. The mom standing on the sidewalk by the street chuckled and yelled out, "We are dedicated!"
I had another group of two children.
And close to closing time, I had another group of two. Both were boys, probably of middle school age. The tallest of the two mentioned that they were probably the last ones still out--that the rest of their group gave up an hour or two ago. I totally understood why.
Total number of goblins last night: eight. Eight!
Some communities changed their trick-or-treating to today, based on the weather forecast. Plainfield didn't. I will keep the still-full bowl of candy by the door just in case. What remains will go to the Homeless Feeding Mission that my church provides to Indy's homeless, and a couple of local areas that have hungry people.
Happy Nasty Halloween. On to Thanksgiving!
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