Women’s History

This month is Women’s History month, where we celebrate all the famous, powerful women of the world. It’s nice to recall the accomplishments of people like Amelia Earhart, Althea Gibson, Katherine Johnson and Harriett Tubman, to name a few. But what about those NOT so famous women. Women like your mother, MY mother, the neighbor mom with the special needs child? How about we celebrate those women?

I’ll start. I like to work on family history, and as I do, I have come to appreciate the strength of the women in my family history. In the last year, I have watched my mother show how strong she is. You see, not only did 2020 start with a pandemic, but also the health of my father began to decline.

I look back on the last year, and the years of growing up, I am in awe of the strength my mother has shown. My parents raised nine children. Yes NINE. While my father worked, my mother took care of all of us. She cooked and cleaned and made sure we got to school- sometimes, even walking us when we were scared to go. At night I would hear the sound of her old sewing machine, as she made a new dress for one of us, or hemmed up the pants that would be handed down. Life with a big family was always busy.

At the start of 2020 my father was deemed a fall risk. As strong as my mother is, she certainly can’t help him if he fell. You see, my mother’s eyesight is poor, and she has hearing aids. When she removes her hearing aids- she can’t hear. A hindrance for sure, when he needed help. So, it quickly was determined that we, the kids, would rotate one night a week each, to be there “just in case”. This is where I saw, even further, the strength of my mother- dad too.

On my night to stay with them, I would watch my mother as she would care for my father. I would catch sight of her sitting on the bed with him, as he had lunch. She would stay with him and they would watch tv together. But the most touching thing was when she would wake at 3 am. go in his room to see if he needed anything. Sometimes she would get a warm bucket of water and wash cloth and care for him, giving him the dignity he deserved. Being tired herself, she thought of him and his needs. The same way she had done for us as we were growing up.

I could see, over the course of the year, the wear on her face. The stress and how hard it was, but she never faltered. And so, in this month of honoring women, I think the highest honor goes to those like my mother. Those that lead by example. Those that show such compassion and love during the most trying times. Those that raised compassionate people, willing to spend one night a week, sleeping on a sofa with one eye open and an ear for “just in case”. Those women, that do what’s right because it’s right. No, my mother didn’t fly airplanes or run races, or work at NASA, but she did something just as heroic- she modeled what true strength and love is.

So here’s to you mom,

You’re the BEST.

Simple connections

Walking through the cedar trees behind our campsite the other day, enjoying the quiet of the area, I began to take notice of the area. Not just look at it, but really take notice. The trail wrapped around the back side of the campground, just long enough for an early morning walk with our dog Henry. It was quiet, and the morning light filtered in softly through the canopy of the trees. As Henry sniffed his way through the trail, I noticed the path, though well defined, was not heavily traveled. The occasional spider web or overgrown fern along the path lent to the solitude of the small area.

As I walked along, I noticed the muffled sound of my footsteps. Looking down at the path, I noticed the soft earth, the bits and pieces of the downed trees as they crumbled back into the earth. Most would think of it as the decaying of old trees and plants. And then I noticed the trees, and the intertwined roots, and it dawned on me- we are all connected.

The old tree, that had fallen years before, became the base for the new growth. The strength and nourishment to continue was passed to the younger branches, giving them a strong start.

Where we come from, and who we are, are the product of what came before. That old growth of trees continues to nourish and sustain us, even if we don’t immediately see it.

As I walked along, I thought of my parents and all they have taught me. The values they instilled and the life lessons taught by example. I recalled stories they told of their upbringing and how that shaped them and their views on life, and in turn, me.

All that we are, and all that we pass on to our own children, comes from that base. That deep rooted system, built over time and generations. We take parts of what we need for ourselves to grow, to pass on to our children and continue that connection. I would like to think I have picked the best parts of my parents, and their parents- and passed that on to my children. That one day my children may walk a quiet forest path and recall those things we share, and feel that connection deep in their soul.

A Weed or a Wish?

Walking along the river with my dog the other day, I was noticing the various plants and flowers along the edge.  I am no gardener so I admit I don’t know the names of them. I just know that they all have qualities about them that are beautiful is some way.  Some are prickly, others delicate and bright.  I’m guessing, most I see are actually weeds, their beauty in the eye of the beholder.

One such weed I came across- possibly a variation of the dandelion- made me think of years gone by when, as a child, we would blow on them and make a wish.  I don’t know if any of those wishes came true,  maybe we were just spreading weeds about the yard.  Seeing the flower now, reminds me that life can take turns as quick as the breeze, and that it sometimes takes more than a wish to fix it.

It would be nice if it were as easy as blowing the seeds off a dandelion to make wishes come true. To provide wishes to those struggling, the firefighters battling to save land and home, or those in need of a medical miracle. I was recently reminded how precious life can be and that even  the power of wishes and prayers may not be enough. I would gladly sit in a field of flowers and scatter the seeds to the wind, if I knew it would grant a miracle.

Weeds, like some people, are hardy, surviving in some of the more  hostile environments, yet they do survive, and many thrive.  I admire those people who thrive in adversity, their strength and determination, the ability to be a bright spot even when seen as something less.  Don’t get me wrong, there are still weeds- like people – who are just prickly mean stickers.  I avoid them, because they don’t add anything I find positive.

I would rather be a dandelion.  A bright spot in a child’s day as they blow the seeds for a wish,  an herbal tea to provide that possible miracle cure, even a landing spot for a bee. Maybe some see the weed, I choose to see the wish.

Blessings Abound

As I travel around the country, through small towns and large, I notice the presence of many churches.  The stained glass windows of many catch my eye, as the sun glints through them.   I don’t often have the time to stop and take a picture, but when I am able, I cherish the moment.   There are times, as I travel through town, there seems to be a church on every corner.  Churches of different denomination yet, just in it’s presence, the message is universal.

Today, as we made our way through town, I began again to notice the churches.  I noticed the architecture of the different buildings, the windows, and most important- the open door of most.  As I was taking a quick snapshot of one such church, a kind gentleman asked if I had seen inside yet.  I replied I had not, and he smiled and said  ” come inside I will show you”.  I walked to the car where my son was waiting, telling him to come along and see inside.

As we walked inside Don, the gentleman leading the way, explained that this particular church, with its stone exterior, bell tower, rich wood interior and traditional stained glass windows, was designed after English country churches common in the 1800s. Built in 1892, it is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The worship space seats about one hundred twenty people and houses both a pipe organ and a grand piano. The sanctuary underwent a comprehensive historical restoration in 1993. Standing in the church with the sunlight shining through the stained glass windows, the beautiful woods of the pews and ceiling were so warm and inviting, a very welcoming building. I suppose if I lived in this town, I might make this “my church”, but since I do not, I will be content with my visit today.

We thanked Don for the visit and went on our way.  Even though I don’t live here, or worship here, I felt peace and comfort in his church, and, in turn, this town.  I know I will miss this area when we finally move along, but will take with me the blessings we have discovered.

Milestones

How do we define milestones in life? What makes one event more noteworthy than another?  I was recently looking on that famous greeting card website for an anniversary year designation, and noticed that there comes a time, after about 15 years, that the designation is rather ho hum.  As if those years don’t really deserve much mention.  Seriously- it said for year 23, the “theme” is air.  Air?  Am I to assume, then,  that I can put a lid on a mason jar and hand it over, for a gift of air?

I have been pondering this because today is my 24th anniversary.  A rather ho hum year according to that famous card company web site.  This years theme is stone.  I wonder, how did we go from a Diamond at year 10 to stone at year 24? Have these past 14 years not amounted to more than a rock?

Let me tell you – 24 years is nothing to sneeze at.  Marriage is so much more than the ceremony and reception.  It is all those small things, those ho hum days and events that never get the recognition they deserve.

The  day he clips a rose from the garden and puts it on the table because it’s pretty.

When she brings him Vernors because he’s been sick, and she knows it will make him feel better.

It’s laughing at your silly jokes, a hug just because, dancing in the kitchen to annoy the children.  Being able to disagree, but know, no matter what, you love them.  It’s laundry and shopping and cooking and cleaning.  Dealing with being sick, aging family and bills.

Marriage is hard, it’s fraught with pitfalls that devour many and  leave many more with bruises unseen.   It’s messy, and stressful and there are three sides to it-his, hers and the truth.

So when I look at that greeting card website that says year 24 is stone- and the big milestone of  year 25 is silver, I can’t help but shake my head and disagree.  Each of these 24 years has been a milestone to celebrate, to shout to all that those ho hum events and days have had as much meaning as that year 25.

So today, on this day of stone for my husband I , I want to publicly shout out to all, that we have persevered through all those ho hum moments.  We have fought and made up, laughed and cried, supported and cheered, and most of all loved each other as we promised we would.  You see, we made a choice, those many years ago, and though it’s been hard at times, I can’t imagine another I would have loved the way I love him.

Happy 24th anniversary my dear love.

Flat Anthony

Funny thing about kids, they grow up. We have 2 sons that are growing into such fine young men, we  are so proud of both of them. For Mother’s day a few years ago,our oldest gave me a pillowcase with his picture on it. Seems kind of funny, but I love it. I bring it with us when we travel.

We have been an RV family for about 6 years, and in that time we have traveled thousands of miles around the country. We have been from the Pacific to the Atlantic, summer and winter. Some of our favorite memories happened because of a chance to buy an old RV..As a parent, it has been rewarding to know that we have been able to give the gift of travel and love for our country to our boys.

Our oldest son is now 22 and, as a young man starting out, no longer has the time to take off for weeks or months at a time. When we travel now, I feel a sadness that he isn’t able to continue to share in our adventures. Our remedy? We call it Flat Anthony- the pillow with his picture on it.

Flat Anthony comes along with us whenever we travel, and this last trip, well, let’s just say he had some adventures.  How could we not take him along?

We didn’t want him to miss beach combing, or climbing on the rocks, the dune buggy ride, whale watching, 4th of July or the evening campfire watching the ships on the river.

It clearly isn’t the same as having him along with us, and I sometimes feel guilty having fun without him. We are so proud of all his accomplishments, and maybe some day, when he is older with a family of his own, he will remember his youthful trips and want to do the same with his family.

For Love of Trains part 2

 

As we travel in our Rv, our trips always include some sort of train activity.  It is a given, a necessity for survival when your autistic son lives for all things train.  As we plan our trips we include train rides or visits to train museums to ensure  harmony along the way.  These plans give us locations to see, and something for our son to look forward to, as he puts up with activities he might not otherwise enjoy.

In the small Northern California town of Dunsmuir, there is a small Amtrak stop, and the Union Pacific yard.  We happened to be camping in the area and decided to go to Dunsmuir for lunch and to watch for whatever train might arrive. Andrew brought his small video camera so  he could film the trains.

We parked nearby and headed toward the Amtrak stop. Looking at the schedule, we found that we would not be seeing Amtrak – it makes its pass through town very early morning.  Andrew knew, however, that other trains travel this route all during the day so it was only a matter of time.  As he set up his video camera  we noticed some workers on the other side of the track.  We didn’t have long to wait before the horn of a train could be heard, and the shout from Andrew “here it comes!”

Pulling in to the station was a Union Pacific train.  The train pulled in slowly and stopped at the small station.  As we watched, the 2 workers we had seen on the other side of the track  picked up their bags and headed to the cab. At the same time, the 2 workers that had just arrived on the train, grabbed their bags and climbed out. This  was a simple crew change,  exchange in a normal workday of some train employees. We didn’t speak to the workers but what came next was so kind- an act of generosity that  reminds me there are great people out there.

The new crew climbed in the cab and suddenly one of them leaned out of the cab and called to Andrew to come closer. Andrew walked  closer, and the employee  opened the side cab door and leaned out, handed him a  lantern!  As he handed it to Andrew, he claimed he didn’t need it anymore.   Just like that, this man gave a boy something he always wanted. As quickly as he came out of the cab he went back in, told Andrew to cover his ears, blew the train horn and they were off. Andrew calling for them to drive safely.

We watched as the train disappeared down the track, another day in the life of a train lover..

 

 

 

 

For Love of Trains part 1

Andrew LOVES trains. That is a fact that is obvious the moment you meet him, almost as obvious as the fact that he is autistic. For us, this love affair is part of our family experience, it is a daily staple. It is woven in our conversation,our travels and yes our home decor. The love he has for trains however, has brought opportunities and has brought out the kindness of people that is so incredibly heartwarming. Two recent incidents, with regard to trains, have touched our family in such a warm way.

We travel in our RV as often as we can, summer being the longest trips for obvious reasons. This year we had a few trips already so our summer trip was not as far or long. It was however, one of the best we have had.

Part of our trip took us back to Portland and the Oregon Rail Historic Foundation (http://www.orhf.org/), home of Andrew’s favorite train, the 4449.  Visiting this museum and seeing his favorite train, was all he talked about for most of our trip. The day came to visit the train and you would have thought it was Christmas.  We had been to the museum before so Andrew knew just what he wanted to see. As he walked around, you could see the excitement in his eyes, his love for these big machines just radiating from his every pore.

While speaking with the gentleman in charge that day, I commented about Andrew being autistic- he said he knew- has a son on the spectrum as well.  We finished our conversation and then he looked at Andrew and told him to follow him. They walked over to the 4449 train and he told Andrew to go ahead and climb up in the cab, ignoring the please keep off sign, then he called over one of the workers to climb up with him.  Here was a sudden kindness to a young boy from a man who could see the thrill this small act provided.  The thrill that he was IN the cab of his favorite train, the thrill to “drive” that train-if only for a moment even if it never actually moved. We can’t thank him enough.

 

 

 

 

A trade off

I love camping, always have. There is something about being outside, sitting next to a fire, the smoke filling the air, seemingly always blowing in the direction you are sitting. Marshmallows roasting, hot dogs cooking, all the traditional activities. When I was younger, camping meant a tent and sleeping bag, small camp stove and a chair. The lure was the outdoors. So many places to see, all with their own appeal. I’m old now.

Sleeping on the hard ground,and invariably a rock, has lost its lure for me. Camping has changed over the course of my life; it is now done with much more comfort. A real bed, bathroom, kitchen and air conditioning and satellite tv! Not really roughing it anymore.

Some may think that this isn’t real camping. As I walk around the campground I notice everyone is doing the same thing. When you pull in you set up your spot.  For some, that’s pitching the tent, others it’s plugging in and hooking up the sewer line.   It’s fun seeing all the different types of rv’s and tents; seeing where everyone is from is interesting. I notice, as people take walks around the campground, they give a sideways glance or point. Being from California and currently in Ontario Canada, we get our fair share of looks. Some will stop and ask if we are lost, or why are we here. Not lost and we are here because we can be.

So we set up our “summer home” and have all the comforts, but we still go out each day and explore something new. The wonders of the outdoors, the history of the area, the local flavor of the city. In the evening we may come back and sit by that fire, talk with the other campers, hear of their travels, share ours. It’s nice to know, if it rains, we wont be soaked and miserable.Yes, we have moved on past the tent on the ground and really roughing it. Our biggest issue seems to be trees.

I love a campground with shade and trees- but they block the satellite signal. Oh the horrors! We have spent time positioning our rv just right in the spot to get the signal, have even gone so far as to move spots. Not always with success. In the end, it comes down to a trade off- beautiful spot under the trees or satellite tv? Because it’s about the camping, the beautiful spot wins. Tv can wait, enjoying a campfire with new friends or family, well that always is my first choice.

Wants and Needs

Merriam Webster defines Need as:

“something that a person must have : something that is needed in order to live or succeed or be happy”

It is always funny to me, when my son comes to me and says, ” I NEED this!”  This, of course, being whatever latest toy/Lego he just HAS TO HAVE. He doesn’t just want it, he NEEDS it, and is quite persistent in his announcement. With him though, that NEED can change as quick as the next commercial, or the turn down the next aisle at the store.  For him, NEED versus WANT are equal.

It isn’t always material things people insist they NEED.  Relationships can fall into that category at times. I have listened as people espouse how much they NEED the other person in their life.  That all-consuming, can’t spend a minute apart, what do I do without you, NEED.   It is wonderful to have a partner to share your joys and sorrows, your adventures and boring days, but to place your happiness on their shoulders  becomes smothering and draining. Why would anyone want that?   Isn’t it better to be proud of yourself and your achievements, secure in the knowledge you can take care of yourself and be self-sufficient, bringing all that to a relationship?  Encouraging the other person to be all they can be, not basing your happiness on them?

I would guess most people confuse what they want with what they need. Do we NEED that 3000 square foot home, with a pool? Or that fancy car? No, of course not.  Do we WANT them? I know I do. Do I have them?  No. What I do have is a decent size home, no pool. We have decent cars, no Mercedes or BMW, but decent.  You see, we didn’t go overboard with what we bought. We bought what we could afford, we worked hard and so far we have done pretty well.   We have planned for our wants and made certain our needs were met first.  Now we have the opportunity to purchase a really big want!  A new, well new to us, RV.

Yes it is big, and a bit costly, o.k. really costly.  Do we NEED it? According to Merriam Webster no.  Do we want it? Absolutely.  We had an RV before, and spent 5 years taking cross-country  family vacations.  We had our easy trips where everything went rather smooth.  There were those trips that became “adventures”.  You know the type; where it seems any and all mishaps occur, and during the trip it is all so stressful you think why in the world did we do this?  But, in  hind sight, those adventure trips are the ones you retell, with fondness and laughter, well after the stress has worn off.

Our summer travels will take us to the familiar and the new,  to family and strangers.  We anticipate “adventures” and hope for smooth rides.   Clearly this is not a NEED, according to Merriam Webster.  It is not a must have,  we can live without it, be successful without it and happy without it.  By all means,  it is a want.  So, for our youngest son, who says he “needs to travel” and for us as parents, who find comfort in the adventures, we will embark on new journeys.  We will experience new adventures, and working  together, find what truly brings us joy, as individuals and as a family.

Make A Plan

“Make a plan”,  my husband tells me that all the time.  I try, I really do, but  he’s so much better at it.  I can get one started but I am so indecisive, and I procrastinate, that he just takes over and finishes the plans.  That isn’t always a bad thing either.  It’s not that he does it all, it really ends up a collaborative effort.

A few years back we were planning a cross-country trip in our RV, talk about a collaborative effort! It took many nights of pouring over maps and searching for places to stop on the way.  The only thing that was a certain, was that we needed to be in Michigan for my husbands parents anniversary/birthday party.  His parents were both turning 90 years old and it was their 65th wedding anniversary.

Coming from California, we have a couple of route choices, each with their own positive and negative aspects.  Not only was it the route to get to Michigan that needed to be decided, but the entire trip.  How long would we go, what else would we see, where would we go? And so the planning began.

We had one month for our trip .We chose to start on what is known as “The Loneliest road”, highway 50.  We would than go to Mt Rushmore, and on to Michigan. After the family party we would head to Niagara Falls, and New York city.  We planned to go to Washington DC, but when we heard our son’s friend was playing baseball that summer for the Cape Cod League, the plan changed, and we went to watch him instead.   A decision that turned out to be a true slice of all American fun.

The route home was a bit more direct, with a stop in Kansas to see the Wizard of Oz museum, than pretty much straight home.  All in all a lot of driving, tons of fun, a couple mishaps, that we fondly recall as “adventures” now.  But to be sure, one of the best trips we have taken to date.

What has become most important for me, for us, is that we had a plan.  Everything seems to come down to having a plan.  When my husband and I got married, we had a plan.  From the music played before, during and after the ceremony, to our vows, we had a plan.  For our life, after that ceremony, we have had a plan.  I admit, some of our plans have gone  awry, but we have adjusted, and are actually ahead of ourself and our plan. Countless nights have been spent pouring over bills and maps and music and  forms, making choices and putting it all into the current plan.

I believe that, as a family, we have made plans, shared our points of view, and though it may seem a bit lopsided at times, we have worked as a team.  While no plan is without its share of pitfalls,  we have weathered those adversities and are still hanging in there.  Each one of us has contributed, and I marvel at all we have accomplished so far.

Retirement

Being young, and at the beginning of a working career, RETIREMENT was always that mythical accomplishment you strived for; someday.  Someday, I will RETIRE. When I have everything paid for, I will RETIRE.  Someday, when I am older I can RETIRE.  SOMEDAY.

It’s fun to think of the what if’s, and, if I only had….    You know, what if I win the lottery? If I only had no bills.   If I won the lottery, I wouldn’t have any bills!  I could  just RETIRE! How awesome would that be?   I never play the lottery, so that eliminates, that option.  I guess I just have to pay bills the old-fashioned way;  work.

I showed up at work every day.  I worked the odd hours, the over time, the times when I really didn’t feel good but went anyway; much to my husbands  dismay.  Don’t get me wrong, I did have my days of calling in sick, but I was never one to call in very often.  It just wasn’t how I was taught.   We had bills to pay and responsibilities to take care of, so I went.  Our hard work paid off, little by little those bills disappeared.

Pretty soon RETIREMENT seemed possible, like grabbing that big brass ring on the carousel ride. At first that ring is out of reach completely. After a while, with each circle around, you get closer and closer. Finally, the ride circles around, the horse is sliding up, you reach and grab that big brass ring.  Success! RETIREMENT.

I find myself now, smack in the middle of SOMEDAY. Wow, it’s not mythical, it does exist. Dec 30 2013 I RETIRED.  It’s funny to say.  RETIRED.  The word conjures up so many images, many I ‘m not sure I relate to.  It still doesn’t seem quite real, to be RETIRED.

It has been a couple of weeks since I have signed the papers, and turned in my work items.  No longer do I have the laptop, the tool belt, the key ring with its multitude of keys, my I.D. badge.  I also don’t have work orders to do, equipment to build, and every moment of my day to account for.

My husband is worried that I will be bored.  Well, I  may be, at times, but there are closets to clean and  projects to do.  We are also in the process of finding just the right RV to purchase to add to our RETIREMENT portfolio.  We love to travel, and have many plans for some amazing trips to come.  One, in particular, is to Alaska.

I  wrote previously about starting to work, and thinking that 5 years was a long time.  Looking back, 35 1/2 years  seems like yesterday.  At some point I may end up being that RETIRED person, sitting on the porch rocker, sipping coffee and knitting.  I think for now I will just enjoy being the wife, and mom, traveler and writer.

Ornaments of Life

I must admit, I love Christmas ornaments.   I know  just when my admiration, or maybe obsession, began.  Every year, on Christmas Eve we would have our family Christmas gathering.  Each year it would be at a different family members home. a tradition we still hold.  I think I was about 14 the year my dad’s cousin hosted the party. I can still remember walking inside the house.  My grandmother and her sister in the kitchen readying the various dishes, the younger cousins in the living room  eyeing the packages under the tree.  And there, off to the side- the tree itself.

I made sure I greeted everyone, but that tree, for some reason seemed to draw me back.   It was about 7 feet tall, lush and green.  I can still recall the  smell of  the pine scent mingled with the spiced cider from the kitchen;  see the lights as they twinkled, but all the ornaments that adorned that tree were what truly drew me in.  I don’t think I had ever seen so many ornaments on one tree.

There were  balls of various colors, snowflakes and santa’s and christmas tree ornaments. There were glass and crystal and ceramic ornaments.  The lights sparkled and twinkled as they bounced from ornament to ornament. The tree seemed to be alive and dancing in its corner of the room.  I think the sheer number of ornaments that graced the tree was what was so special.  I remember thinking, someday I would like a tree as beautiful as that.

I started collecting ornaments after that year. I would buy the annual Wedgwood, or Lenox ornaments.  One or two, ok  sometimes 3 or four , each year.   One year, the pen pal I had, in what was still East Germany, sent me ornaments for my tree.  Three dozen ornaments!  One box had a dozen red balls, one had a dozen pastel balls and the third had a dozen pine cone shapes in red green and gold.  I still use those special ornaments each year.

As the years have gone on, I have collected my ornaments, always thinking of that special tree. Each place we travel to, I try to find a representative ornament.  Every year, as we bring out the containers of Christmas decorations, and begin to adorn the tree, we smile as we recall where the particular ornament came from.  The Statue of Liberty from New York, The cable car from San Francisco, the Grand Canyon, Dirty Sally’s in Ten sleep Wyoming.  Decorating the tree becomes more than just placing the ornaments, it brings us together and reminds us of family times and all we have gone through.

Our tree isn’t quite as full as the one I recall in my youth, although I continue to add to the collection each year.   Maybe the tree isn’t completely full, but my life is, and those small ornaments remind me every year of all that we have, and what a joy my family is to me.

My Mother’s Hands

I looked at my mothers hands the other day, and it struck me how much life I saw in them.  I marvel at those hands and recall all the strength and tenderness they have shown throughout the years.

When I was about 10 years old I had long hair, and I remember my mother brushing it into pony tails. She would quickly and softly brush it out and put the rubber bands in.  Also those summer days when I would come home from a day full of swimming and she would carefully untangle those same rubber bands, and brush out my now swimmers green hair.

Those summer evenings spent in the yard playing, watching as my mother would pull weeds out from among the patch of daisies that grew in the beds.  A tug here, a scrape there, the weed came out and the daisies bloomed.

Day after day my mother would fix our lunches for school. An assembly line of sandwiches, fruit and maybe a cookie, lovingly placed in a brown paper lunch bag for each of us.  Maybe not glamorous or our favorite, but always something good.

I remember, not long before my grandfather passed away, we were visiting and had tickets to a play. Because he was not well, he wasn’t going with us   I watched  as my mother took her father’s hands in hers, gently patted his hand as she spoke to him before we left for the evening.

It’s all those little things, the weeding of the garden the brushing of hair, the gentleness of holding her fathers hands in hers and countless other day-to-day activities.  Little things to be sure, but when I recall those moments in time I smile.  My mother’s hands- such strength, such life.

Coast to Coast

My husband came to me about 7 years ago, with the idea of buying an RV to travel from California to Michigan. He shared his idea with me that it would be so fun and what a great way to travel with our boys, one of whom is Autistic. Being the practical/skeptical one, I’m sure I looked at him as though he just fell off his rocker. We talked, ( he talked, I listened, intrigued by his idea ) and came to an agreement that it could work.

For the next few weeks, my wonderful husband scoured the paper and on-line in search of just the right RV. Finding what he thought was a good deal, he would call and talk to the owner, sometimes go look at them. When one would pass the initial scrutiny, we would all go take a look. It seemed there was always something not quite right for us. Too small, too big, too old, the smell of the previous owners perfume that lingered everywhere. I was beginning to think we both had fallen off our rocker.
Finally an rv with low mileage in our price range came up. Although it wasn’t real big, it seemed to have enough room for us, it was clean, and didn’t smell of perfume.  We decided that would be the one.  We bought it, and our adventures began.

WE spent the next 5 years creating memories none of us will forget.,  some better than others, but all so special.  We traveled from coast to coast, visited National parks and local sights. Watched baseball at it’s all American pastime best, and drove on through the snowy night to reach the family’s home for Christmas Eve.  Each trip a story in itself, in total a collective memory  that binds our family together.

I think there is something about traveling that draws us in, takes hold of part of our soul and feeds it deep down, like a much-needed drink of water on a hot summer day. Once that first sip is taken, it seems there is no quenching that thirst. The thirst for adventure, knowledge, change, excitement, something other than the ordinary day-to-day.

We sold our RV   2 years ago, and since then we have  struggled with not having it.  Yes it was old and broke down at times, seemingly even sitting still, but it was ours.  We cherish those times, so much so that we are planning to  replace the RV with a new one.   A new set of adventures await us and we are excited to see where the road will take us next.  Stay tuned,  you never know what fun we may have

Sweet Lorraine

In a suburb of Detroit, on a street named Lorraine, a young couple bought a brand new home;  3 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath, full basement, large yard.   With their daughter and son, they moved in and started their daily life.  Nothing unusual about that, People do it all the time.  Happens every day to millions across the country. Every day someone moves to a new house, starts a new life.     That’s the thing, people do it all the time. The year was  1958.

Like any home, I imagine there were trials and tribulations within.  Young kids become teens, have their own ideas and their own dreams, soon become young adults.  As a parent, we raise our children to be good, honest, hardworking citizens, knowing that one day, they will fly from that nest on their own.  When they do venture out, that home is the connection, the comfort zone, the familiar.

Life changes and we move on, leaving one place for another.  Seeking either a new adventure, more space or less space.  Leaving the nest for the first time for some or downsizing for others.  That place we call home can have great meaning to us or be nothing more than a structure to live in.  Lorraine was a home,  a gathering place for family and friends, a constant.   So constant, that the couple lived nowhere else- ever.

The couple was my mother and father in law.  I joined the family in 1993, and was welcomed warmly from the beginning.  The first time we met, I was greeted with a hug  on the front porch of Lorraine. At the end of each visit  they would stand on that porch and wave goodbye as we left.  Every time, without fail, a constant.

Funny how some things NEVER change. Like the decor in that house.  In 20 years, and certainly before I showed up, it remained the same.  The same wallpaper in the kitchen, in the bath. The same perpetual christmas decor in the basement. A constant.

It’s hard when things change.  We lost my father in law in 2009 and mother in law in August of this year.   Years earlier, my mother in law had mentioned she kept money in different places. She wasn’t kidding. We found change and money nearly everywhere.  As we went through the house, it was not surprising to see all that was there.  I smiled  at the box that held  the wedding shower cards-from moms wedding in 1944. The various coin purses- filled with coins, in several drawers.  But the biggest smile for me was finding miniature candy bars and candies in nearly every coat pocket in the hall closet.  I never knew.

As we sat at the kitchen table that one last time,  I listened as the hall clock chimed, as the floor boards had that squeak when you walked down the hallway, how I could hear the others in the basement start a new game of pool.  Those familiar sounds, so constant throughout the years, that I will miss.

The contents of the house will be sold soon.  Gone will be the knick knacks, the dishes, the treasures that were their life.  Soon after, the house itself will be sold.  Gone will be the constant, the home the family knew.  The house is just a place, the home will live in our hearts forever, as will the sight of the two of them standing on the porch waving  as we pull away.

Traditions

I would venture to guess, most everyone has at least one holiday tradition in their family.  It may be as simple as a favorite recipe made each year, or a house where all gather.  That one event that we all look forward to, that seems to connect us together again.

Who can  forget Christmas morning as a kid? Waking early, rushing to the living room to see all the bright packages piled under the tree.  Searching carefully for one with my name on it, hoping it holds that magical item I just HAD to have.  And then, we wait.  Oh, the agony of waiting for the rest of the family to wake up.  Don’t they know it’s CHRISTMAS?!  Finally, after what seems forever, the others would come out, equally excited ready to get the day moving.  And then, we wait.  Our parents were not out yet.   Have they lost their Christmas spirit?  Arent’ they excited?

One year, I may  have been about 10 or so, things changed a little.   Lined up in front of the fireplace were 9 new, matching red stockings. Green and white trim bordered the top, our names embroidered  across the front.  Filled with treats and a small gift. Oh how exciting!  Just about that time, our parents made it into the living room, looking  in dire need of a cup of coffee.  As my mother made her way to the kitchen to get the coffee started, she informed us all that yes, we could have whatever is in the stocking while  she gets breakfast ready.   SWEET!  let’s see what treats and treasures we have.

We each found our stocking and commenced to dump its contents in front of us.  Inside we found,  an orange or an apple, a handful of mixed nuts in the shells,  a handful of Brachs candies and a small gift. It may be nail polish for the girls, or a yo-yo or some other small item. No matter what it was, it was something we could have right then. More important, I think, it gave time for my parents to get that much-needed cup of coffee.

That is but one fond tradition I had growing up.  There were plenty of  other traditions. For example: carefully decorating sugar cookies and gingerbread cookies to be used as ornaments on the tree; finding the bottom half of the tree empty in the morning, because the dog ate them.  Or having mini english muffin pizzas , eggs and moms cherry ring for breakfast.

My husband’s family has their traditions as well. Notes in every package, kielbasa for breakfast, new pajamas from grandma.   Now that we have our own family, we have blended some of his, some of mine, to make ours.   I do hope one day that our boys will remember those traditions, remember  that what truly made them happy wasn’t all the “things” they got but the love and family .

I looked forward every year to that christmas stocking.  I don’t remember many of the “must have” items in the bright shiny packages, but that stocking was always there.  I may still have it, tucked away in a box somewhere.

What traditions do you cherish, or have passed on?

Trade Rumors

My husband loves baseball. I mean REALLY loves baseball.  He’s happy that I love baseball too.  We watch and analyze, cheer and lament.  We talk about  our teams and players like they are our family.  Families are like baseball teams, at least mine is as big as one.

I think any good team starts with its management.  For families, of course , that would be the parents.  In my family the “team” started 60 years ago. Young and full of hope and potential, they said “I do”.  I often wonder how much of their future was planned verses life just happens?  Did they actually PLAN to have 9 kids?

Each player -kid- on the team has a role, a purpose.  The oldest/veteran breaks in the management, paves the way for the future players.  As others are introduced, the dynamics change.  Trying to adjust to the new lineup, so to speak, roles are defined. Each person has their worth.  What good is it if everyone is a pitcher? Who would catch for you? Who would be your outfield backing you up?   Each one  has a job on the team and together they work toward a common goal.

As with any team/family,  there comes a time to shake things up, move on to another team.  In a family the kids grow up, maybe get married,  start their own team.  Sometimes the kids leave on less than  amicable terms and it’s a mutual parting of the ways.  Their time and purpose completed for that team, off to the next step. There are times too, when as much as one would like to stay in that comfort zone ,it is time to take that leap of faith and go for it.

Twenty years ago I started my own team.  Excited for the future, unsure of what would come next.  Am I any less a part of the original team?  Was my time there dismissed when I moved on? Not at all.  I had my role on that team; moms favorite, though she will say the same about all her kids, and truly mean it about each one. We don’t always get it right,  some times we strike out.  But, as in baseball, one inning doesn’t make the whole game.  Sure, one bad inning can devastate THAT game,  there are 161 games to follow.

I wouldn’t trade my team for anything in the world.  Hopefully I learned something from the best managers out there, and can pass that on to my young players.  I do know one thing- When you step up to the plate, life may throw you a curve.  Stand in there, take a swing, you never know- you may just hit it out of the park.