I checked this blog and realized that it has been a whole week since I have visited this site.
I realize that the older you get, the faster the world spins, but WHERE did this last week go?
I guess that I shall just reflect on the week because it has been a happy one, and happy reflections are good to store away. Weeks seem to always begin on Mondays. When I actually had a job, Mondays were those awful, dreaded days that marked the end of week ends. Now Mondays are happy days because I get to spend them working with my aunt/sister/friend, Elaine, at the hospital information desk. Last Monday we had lots of catching up on news and
(we don't call it gossip) information.
Tuesday was the Christian Women's Luncheon at Edgewood Country Club. Since I had missed the May luncheon, it was good to get back into routine and to see all my old friends. I enjoy riding to the meeting with Margie Reed, appreciate her helping with transportation, and always
marvel at our interesting conversations. Tuesday we were joined by Diane Morford. Diane is a friend from teen years. We married our husbands the same year, and have been good friends ever since. I am so thankful that we can still have these times together.
Wednesday Don and I took off about 8:30am, and drove to New Buffalo, MI. We had a McDonalds brunch about mid-trip, and then went directly to the Four Winds casino. They had sent us coupons, and we had about $180.00 in casino cash to play with. We stayed and played until late afternoon, then went to check in at our motel, and to take naps.
Let me just say that we had one of the nicest hotel rooms ever. It was a new Fairfield, and we had a suite. Hotels are now providing such nice luxury touches when it comes to beds and bedding. The beds are super comfortable with luxury linens, six pillows of every size, and comfy duvet covers. We really slept well, and loved having the extra living room so that I could read and watch TV after Don was already asleep. Also he could read the paper and watch TV the next morning without waking me.
Wednesday night we enjoyed a delicious meal right down the road from the Fairfield at "Jimmy's", a very nice restaurant. And then we went back to the casino and played until we couldn't stand to play a moment longer. My arm and hand were sore the next day. Let's just say that we were a bit ahead if you don't count gas and hotel. But the enjoyable drive and
stay were worth every penny.
Thursday we just tried to catch up on jobs and recover from trip fatigue. Neither job is easy at our age. Don mowed and I worked on displays for the July book sale.
Friday was my day for working at Friends of the Library. The Library friends enjoyed our afternoon. And the Happy Birthday USA display looks pretty good, if I must say so myself.
I was so pleased and happy that Taylor and Ashley came to visit us at the library. They are such a great couple, and so cute! The ladies enjoyed meeting them, and I was so proud to introduce them around.
On Saturday we took Janie to lunch to celebrate her 80th birthday. I can't believe she is 80.
Cheryl. Liz, Janie's friend, Nancy Burkhardt, and I helped Janie celebrate. We had so much fun.
Edgewood has a beautiful dining room with huge windows overlooking the golf course and pool.
The food was great, the talk was fun, and the laughs were contagious. We even enjoyed the
sunbathers, or rather one sunbather. He put on quite a show! He had no idea he was entertaining the old ladies.
I also managed to get in quite a bit of reading this week. I have found that this is possible if you stay up late enough! I read "Saving C.C. Honeycutt" by Beth Hoffman, and "Song Without Words" by Ann Packer. Both books are excellent reads and deal with young girls who lose their mothers at very young ages. Both mothers have suffered mental illnesses that greatly affect the lives of their daughters. Both daughters are saved by the strength of friends. The third book that I read was " A Single Thread" by Marie Bostwick. In this book a woman is abandoned by her husband, and she, too, is saved by the strength of friends.
Thankfully, I haven't suffered the traumas that these women suffered, but I certainly do
value the strength and loyalty of my many friends. There have always been times in my life when circumstances have been difficult. And friends have always been there to make things better, make things bearable. I know right now there are friends I can call in an instant, and they will be there to help. There are places I can go where the doors are always open. I know that they care not a whit if the house is perfect or the dishes are done, because their hearts are always in perfect order!
I hope they know that my heart and door are always open, too.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
DAD! IT'S YOUR DAY
If at all possible, I have found
It's good to have a dad around.
They are good for cash to pay a bill
And keep promises when they say they will.
Most dress in clothes anything but new.
Some try to style. That's embarrassing, too.
They're good with hugs and grilled food,
Though they never understand your mood.
If silliness brings you satisfaction,
Dads are best at that kind of action.
They can be a model for what's right and good,
So we treasure our dad, is that understood?
Much love to Dad - he is the MAN,
To love him always is the PLAN!
It's good to have a dad around.
They are good for cash to pay a bill
And keep promises when they say they will.
Most dress in clothes anything but new.
Some try to style. That's embarrassing, too.
They're good with hugs and grilled food,
Though they never understand your mood.
If silliness brings you satisfaction,
Dads are best at that kind of action.
They can be a model for what's right and good,
So we treasure our dad, is that understood?
Much love to Dad - he is the MAN,
To love him always is the PLAN!
Friday, June 17, 2011
Bird of the Year (and it isn't Larry)
We sat on our screened-in porch this evening enjoying the cooling breezes as the day settled into evening. We were listening to the evening serenade of our resident cardinal, who entertains us most evenings, "Brigadoon, brigadoon, tyoo, tyoo, tyoo." This was the preferred song of the evening, even though he/she has quite a repertoire.
It seems that every summer we have a different resident bird that manages to entertain us in many and various ways. Both Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal have chosen our pear tree as home, and keep us entertained with wicked, startling flashes of color, and with their singing. I really don't know if they both sing, if just one sings, or if it is Mr. and Mrs. I do know that yesterday evening our yard was curiously quiet as we sat on the porch. I remarked that the birds seemed to have deserted us. I could hear them singing from several houses away.
Then, when Don was getting ready to go to bed and most of the daylight had vanished, he said to me, "Come look out the window." There on our birdbath sat a beautiful hawk, preening and cleaning its feathers. No wonder all the small birds were staying away. The hawk is a beauty, but is a deadly hunter. We sometimes find piles of feathers in the yard. The hawk leaves only feathers after its meal.
But I have another hawk story about another bird of an earlier summer. When we still lived at our last house, a mother hawk decided to build her nest in a tree that stood right beside our screened-in porch. Then she promptly filled it with eggs. We still had two cats at that time and Mama hawk did not like our cats, and she did not like us. She especially did not want us sitting on the porch - poor planning on her part. She should have built that nest elsewhere. She would stand guard from a tree across the street and fly full speed directly at us, veering upward at the very last moment to avoid flying right through our screen wire. She caused several spilled cups of coffee. We did have a humming bird who forgot to veer and smashed into the screen. She couldn't get out, so I very gently pushed her little nose/bill/snout with my finger. She/he flew away a little dizzy headed, I thought.
But we grew quite attached to the hawk and enjoyed watching her as she took care of her young, and guarded the nest. At the end of the summer she began pushing the "little" ones out of the nest one by one. One morning the cats came and got us because something was amiss on the porch.
One of the little ones was hanging upside down with one claw caught in a window screen. When we tried to help her she was so frightened that she was harming herself with flopping about. We finally called the bird rescue people who came with their equipment and rescued the baby.
Two summers ago we had several bird feeders in the yard. One day we noticed a bright chartreuse bird eating at the feeder. We watched it with our binoculars, and sure enough, it was a parakeet. He must have escaped from someone's home, because he would let us walk up quite close to him as long as we didn't try to touch him. But he was wily enough to never let us catch him. He entertained us all summer. Every evening we would start watching for him. If a car was in the driveway, he would sit on the side mirror and admire himself. And he tried his very best to socialize with the other birds, following them around and trying to make friends. They treated him like an unwanted alien visitor.
As summer drew to a close we began to worry about his survival. We even bought a small bird cage and set it up in the yard with the door propped open with enticing food inside. But he wanted nothing to do with it. The only bird brave enough to go inside was a red-winged black bird. And they seem like pretty gregarious/brave little birds. But we didn't want him for a pet.
As summer ended all we could hope was that Mr. Green Jeans was wise enough to join up with a flock that migrated south. He would fit in perfectly in a tropical climate. Anyway, he has never come back to our yard, and, believe me, we have watched for him.
It seems that every summer we have a different resident bird that manages to entertain us in many and various ways. Both Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal have chosen our pear tree as home, and keep us entertained with wicked, startling flashes of color, and with their singing. I really don't know if they both sing, if just one sings, or if it is Mr. and Mrs. I do know that yesterday evening our yard was curiously quiet as we sat on the porch. I remarked that the birds seemed to have deserted us. I could hear them singing from several houses away.
Then, when Don was getting ready to go to bed and most of the daylight had vanished, he said to me, "Come look out the window." There on our birdbath sat a beautiful hawk, preening and cleaning its feathers. No wonder all the small birds were staying away. The hawk is a beauty, but is a deadly hunter. We sometimes find piles of feathers in the yard. The hawk leaves only feathers after its meal.
But I have another hawk story about another bird of an earlier summer. When we still lived at our last house, a mother hawk decided to build her nest in a tree that stood right beside our screened-in porch. Then she promptly filled it with eggs. We still had two cats at that time and Mama hawk did not like our cats, and she did not like us. She especially did not want us sitting on the porch - poor planning on her part. She should have built that nest elsewhere. She would stand guard from a tree across the street and fly full speed directly at us, veering upward at the very last moment to avoid flying right through our screen wire. She caused several spilled cups of coffee. We did have a humming bird who forgot to veer and smashed into the screen. She couldn't get out, so I very gently pushed her little nose/bill/snout with my finger. She/he flew away a little dizzy headed, I thought.
But we grew quite attached to the hawk and enjoyed watching her as she took care of her young, and guarded the nest. At the end of the summer she began pushing the "little" ones out of the nest one by one. One morning the cats came and got us because something was amiss on the porch.
One of the little ones was hanging upside down with one claw caught in a window screen. When we tried to help her she was so frightened that she was harming herself with flopping about. We finally called the bird rescue people who came with their equipment and rescued the baby.
Two summers ago we had several bird feeders in the yard. One day we noticed a bright chartreuse bird eating at the feeder. We watched it with our binoculars, and sure enough, it was a parakeet. He must have escaped from someone's home, because he would let us walk up quite close to him as long as we didn't try to touch him. But he was wily enough to never let us catch him. He entertained us all summer. Every evening we would start watching for him. If a car was in the driveway, he would sit on the side mirror and admire himself. And he tried his very best to socialize with the other birds, following them around and trying to make friends. They treated him like an unwanted alien visitor.
As summer drew to a close we began to worry about his survival. We even bought a small bird cage and set it up in the yard with the door propped open with enticing food inside. But he wanted nothing to do with it. The only bird brave enough to go inside was a red-winged black bird. And they seem like pretty gregarious/brave little birds. But we didn't want him for a pet.
As summer ended all we could hope was that Mr. Green Jeans was wise enough to join up with a flock that migrated south. He would fit in perfectly in a tropical climate. Anyway, he has never come back to our yard, and, believe me, we have watched for him.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
A Garden of Surprises
We have a tiny garden full of surprises in our yard. It keeps surprising us by producing flowers that we didn't know were there.
I had a very good friend, Barbara. We taught together, we were in Menta together, we volunteered in the literacy program and at Friends of the Library together. We always shared rides to our volunteer jobs. Barbara was one of the neatest persons I have ever had the joy of knowing - big heart, wonderfully interesting conversationalist - full of wisdom and common sense.
One day when Don picked us up at the library and we were driving to Barb's house, she mentioned that she needed someone to dig up the bulbs from a small garden bed.
She lived in a lovely condominium and shared a garden bed with a neighbor. It was between their two patios, and they wanted to replant with neat, low maintenance shrubs. Don volunteered to do the digging. Barbara said that we could have all the bulbs to replant in our yard. So Don rescued the bulbs and planted them safely in various places in our yard. We really didn't know what they were.
This all happened before Barbara became ill and was diagnosed with lung cancer. Her family and all her women friends went through this tough time together, with Barbara showing us all how a classy lady goes through a devastating illness with dignity. She died a year ago.
Well, the bulbs from her garden keep surprising us. Things keep popping up in different places with different names that have us running to identify them. Early this spring we had yellow daffodils. And this week we have the most startling Amaryllis blooming in the bird bath bed, with loads more of them reading to pop out.
Also in our surprise bird bath bed are miniature roses all abloom. These are from some past
Mothers' Day gifts from our Cincinnati kids and grandkids. For several years they have sent
these exquisite miniature rose bushes. Don plants them in our rose beds. Sometimes in the spring they come up and bloom. Some years they don't. But this week they have surprised us once again.
Such memories that can be inspired by a lovely flower- flowers that share so many of the fine qualities of the gift givers: beauty, strength, pleasure.
That's our little memory garden - what an unexpected source of joy.
I had a very good friend, Barbara. We taught together, we were in Menta together, we volunteered in the literacy program and at Friends of the Library together. We always shared rides to our volunteer jobs. Barbara was one of the neatest persons I have ever had the joy of knowing - big heart, wonderfully interesting conversationalist - full of wisdom and common sense.
One day when Don picked us up at the library and we were driving to Barb's house, she mentioned that she needed someone to dig up the bulbs from a small garden bed.
She lived in a lovely condominium and shared a garden bed with a neighbor. It was between their two patios, and they wanted to replant with neat, low maintenance shrubs. Don volunteered to do the digging. Barbara said that we could have all the bulbs to replant in our yard. So Don rescued the bulbs and planted them safely in various places in our yard. We really didn't know what they were.
This all happened before Barbara became ill and was diagnosed with lung cancer. Her family and all her women friends went through this tough time together, with Barbara showing us all how a classy lady goes through a devastating illness with dignity. She died a year ago.
Well, the bulbs from her garden keep surprising us. Things keep popping up in different places with different names that have us running to identify them. Early this spring we had yellow daffodils. And this week we have the most startling Amaryllis blooming in the bird bath bed, with loads more of them reading to pop out.
Also in our surprise bird bath bed are miniature roses all abloom. These are from some past
Mothers' Day gifts from our Cincinnati kids and grandkids. For several years they have sent
these exquisite miniature rose bushes. Don plants them in our rose beds. Sometimes in the spring they come up and bloom. Some years they don't. But this week they have surprised us once again.
Such memories that can be inspired by a lovely flower- flowers that share so many of the fine qualities of the gift givers: beauty, strength, pleasure.
That's our little memory garden - what an unexpected source of joy.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
How Difficult it is to Entertain Some People
Since I share my posts on Facebook, you may have noticed that lovely SmithBites blog post about the Memorial Day picnic at our house. It was a lovely, fun, party with food furnished by our kids. Debra and Rod brought all the yummy Mexican themed food. Cheryl brought
nachos and crock pot FULL of hot dip. She also brought really cute graduation hat cup cakes in honor of Taylor's graduation. I made my usual flimsy attempts to add something to the party.
I made Mexican Paletas (I think they are called). They are just blended fruit, sugar, and juice made into little popsicles. I also had Ginny James get quesidilla cornacopias from her Schwan man to
add to the menu. They even drove all the way across town to bring them to us. Then I totally forgot to get them out of the freezer. OH WELL!
The kids took care of all the classy, delicious parts of the party. And Debra has described it well on her blog. But all the silliness was planned by Don. He went to great lengths to plan the annual 500 mile race pool. Everyone drew drivers' names until they were all gone. He didn't even have anyone put in the usual $1.00 per driver. He came up with all the lovely prizes by himself. He gave everyone all the promotional items he has won at Hoosier Park this year.
Well, he didn't give all of them away. Believe me when I tell you, we can hold several more
contests.
Actually some of the prizes were quite nice, and the winners got quite a kick out of winning. I got such a kick out of mine, that I promptly gave it away to Austin, Tiffany's new boyfriend.
I was afraid we would scare him away from such a crazy family if I didn't bribe him with a nice prize. Don made quite a ceremony out of prize presentations. Cheryl got some steaks, Tiffany got some steak knives, and Lydia won the very coveted slot machine cookie jar. I hope she is
saving it for her hope chest.
Another much anticipated entertainment at all our parties are the gymnastic events. These fall into two
categories. The first is the replaying of the Christmas video from about 25 years ago. Tiffany was five and had received set of rhythmic dancing ribbons. I had put some wine in the very delicious punch, that everyone but Tiffany was allowed to drink. Sad to say that all the adults at the party danced with the ribbons. So, as usual, Don, the entertainment coordinator broke out the Christmas video once AGAIN! Lydia, Avery, and Taylor can't believe that their parents acted that way. I don't know why, because they still do.
Then, of course, we had to let Ginny Gymnast do her routine, after Don let her out of the storage shed. I think when I told Austin that we were letting Ginny out of the shed, he really was about to try and escape from the family. But, let me tell you about Ginny. When our Grandchildren were very small, I bought a Ginny Gymnast doll at a rummage sale and kept it in
their toy storage cabinet at our house. I actually think I bought it for Tiffany at a rummage sale at the lake.
When we sold the lake place, we brought it home for the grandkids to play with here. But, for some reason, Cheryl is the one who simply cracks up when the doll does her routine. (She is battery operated, does flips, hand stands, splits, and lands on her nose a lot.) Of course, if you know Cheryl, you know it doesn't take much to make her laugh. So one year on Cheryl's birthday, Randy, Elaine, Avery, and Lydia were here visiting and we were having Cheryl's birthday party and Rod and Debra's.
The girls and I got a sudden fiendish inspiration and wrapped up Ginny in a lovely gift box, and took it to the birthday party for Cheryl to open. Needless to say, Ginny was the hit of the party and has continued to come to many of our parties. But when Don and I moved five years ago, we somehow lost Ginny in the move. (Let's see - hmmmm - one of those Goodwill boxes?)
Then about a year ago at one of our parties, everyone talked about missing Ginny. So after the party I got on E Bay and actually found another one to buy!
So, Ginny is back, and hopefully will never be lost again. Even if we keep her in the shed, we love her. And, Austin, I hope you aren't too scared of this crazy family. We all liked you a lot.
And, I should mention that Ashley, Taylor's girlfriend, although not as new to the family as Austin, had never before seen Ginny. But we have no fear about Ashley, she seems to be as easily entertained as Cheryl.
nachos and crock pot FULL of hot dip. She also brought really cute graduation hat cup cakes in honor of Taylor's graduation. I made my usual flimsy attempts to add something to the party.
I made Mexican Paletas (I think they are called). They are just blended fruit, sugar, and juice made into little popsicles. I also had Ginny James get quesidilla cornacopias from her Schwan man to
add to the menu. They even drove all the way across town to bring them to us. Then I totally forgot to get them out of the freezer. OH WELL!
The kids took care of all the classy, delicious parts of the party. And Debra has described it well on her blog. But all the silliness was planned by Don. He went to great lengths to plan the annual 500 mile race pool. Everyone drew drivers' names until they were all gone. He didn't even have anyone put in the usual $1.00 per driver. He came up with all the lovely prizes by himself. He gave everyone all the promotional items he has won at Hoosier Park this year.
Well, he didn't give all of them away. Believe me when I tell you, we can hold several more
contests.
Actually some of the prizes were quite nice, and the winners got quite a kick out of winning. I got such a kick out of mine, that I promptly gave it away to Austin, Tiffany's new boyfriend.
I was afraid we would scare him away from such a crazy family if I didn't bribe him with a nice prize. Don made quite a ceremony out of prize presentations. Cheryl got some steaks, Tiffany got some steak knives, and Lydia won the very coveted slot machine cookie jar. I hope she is
saving it for her hope chest.
Another much anticipated entertainment at all our parties are the gymnastic events. These fall into two
categories. The first is the replaying of the Christmas video from about 25 years ago. Tiffany was five and had received set of rhythmic dancing ribbons. I had put some wine in the very delicious punch, that everyone but Tiffany was allowed to drink. Sad to say that all the adults at the party danced with the ribbons. So, as usual, Don, the entertainment coordinator broke out the Christmas video once AGAIN! Lydia, Avery, and Taylor can't believe that their parents acted that way. I don't know why, because they still do.
Then, of course, we had to let Ginny Gymnast do her routine, after Don let her out of the storage shed. I think when I told Austin that we were letting Ginny out of the shed, he really was about to try and escape from the family. But, let me tell you about Ginny. When our Grandchildren were very small, I bought a Ginny Gymnast doll at a rummage sale and kept it in
their toy storage cabinet at our house. I actually think I bought it for Tiffany at a rummage sale at the lake.
When we sold the lake place, we brought it home for the grandkids to play with here. But, for some reason, Cheryl is the one who simply cracks up when the doll does her routine. (She is battery operated, does flips, hand stands, splits, and lands on her nose a lot.) Of course, if you know Cheryl, you know it doesn't take much to make her laugh. So one year on Cheryl's birthday, Randy, Elaine, Avery, and Lydia were here visiting and we were having Cheryl's birthday party and Rod and Debra's.
The girls and I got a sudden fiendish inspiration and wrapped up Ginny in a lovely gift box, and took it to the birthday party for Cheryl to open. Needless to say, Ginny was the hit of the party and has continued to come to many of our parties. But when Don and I moved five years ago, we somehow lost Ginny in the move. (Let's see - hmmmm - one of those Goodwill boxes?)
Then about a year ago at one of our parties, everyone talked about missing Ginny. So after the party I got on E Bay and actually found another one to buy!
So, Ginny is back, and hopefully will never be lost again. Even if we keep her in the shed, we love her. And, Austin, I hope you aren't too scared of this crazy family. We all liked you a lot.
And, I should mention that Ashley, Taylor's girlfriend, although not as new to the family as Austin, had never before seen Ginny. But we have no fear about Ashley, she seems to be as easily entertained as Cheryl.
Monday, June 13, 2011
I Wish I'd Known Him Then
More and more in recent times Don seems to like to reminisce about his childhood, and share stories about his boyhood. I love those stories. It makes me want to know that resourceful little guy, and to keep him company.
It seems he must have spent a lot of time entertaining himself. His mother was only a teenager when Don was born, and then divorced when he was just a baby. She always worked, and Don spent most of his childhood at his grandparents' house. They were good people, and had their own boys, Don's uncles, who were only a few years older. But, I guess, there was enough age difference that Don created a lot of his own entertainment.
Don loved any kind of sports. He loved baseball, softball, football, and basketball. But mostly basketball. He played a lot of basketball at the Cunningham house down the street where they had the only full double basketball court in town. But mostly he created his own games that he could play by the hours by himself.
He was telling me yesterday that he would bounce a baseball hard against the back step so that it bounced unpredictably into the yard. Then he would race to field the ball. He actually pretended there were two teams, kept score, named the teams, had tournaments.
At high school basketball tourney time, he would play out the entire state brackets by using playing cards to draw for quarter by quarter scores. He would play out the entire state tournament in this way. I can just picture it.
And, of course, there were always wiffle ball games, games of "Horse", and who knows what else.
I'll bet the sound of a ball hitting the side of the house over and over drove the grown- ups crazy.
He also talks about some very dangerous things he did. He would hop on a slow moving train beside the grocery where his mom worked, and ride across town to baseball practice! And when his grandparents managed a little theatre in the south part of town, Don and his uncles would stay late and sweep the theatre after it closed. If it was snowy when they left. They would wait for a bus to stop in front of the theatre, then grab the back bumper, and slide home on the ice.
Scares me to think about it. It is a wonder he survived his childhood.
But the resourceful, busy boy grew up to be a resourceful busy man. And he always made up fun games and contests for his own kids to play. And then he entertained the grandkids in much the same way. And he still keeps himself very busy. He gets up in the mornings with an agenda - at least a half day of little jobs, errands, and places to go - people to care for. The neighbors ask, "Where does he go so early every morning?"
Oh, and the little boy who loved to listen to The Grand Ole Opry and The Hit Parade on the radio? He's this grown up man who loves to listen to music on his satellite radio, or our favorite CD's. He can still name a the artists, and looks up lyrics and artists' names on the internet.
Still happy entertaining himself and keeping busy. One of his coaches in college, talking about Don's resourcefulness and drive, said, "I don't know where you got it, but don't ever lose it."
He hasn't - only maybe a little slower version of himself. But, I would love to have known the little boy.
It seems he must have spent a lot of time entertaining himself. His mother was only a teenager when Don was born, and then divorced when he was just a baby. She always worked, and Don spent most of his childhood at his grandparents' house. They were good people, and had their own boys, Don's uncles, who were only a few years older. But, I guess, there was enough age difference that Don created a lot of his own entertainment.
Don loved any kind of sports. He loved baseball, softball, football, and basketball. But mostly basketball. He played a lot of basketball at the Cunningham house down the street where they had the only full double basketball court in town. But mostly he created his own games that he could play by the hours by himself.
He was telling me yesterday that he would bounce a baseball hard against the back step so that it bounced unpredictably into the yard. Then he would race to field the ball. He actually pretended there were two teams, kept score, named the teams, had tournaments.
At high school basketball tourney time, he would play out the entire state brackets by using playing cards to draw for quarter by quarter scores. He would play out the entire state tournament in this way. I can just picture it.
And, of course, there were always wiffle ball games, games of "Horse", and who knows what else.
I'll bet the sound of a ball hitting the side of the house over and over drove the grown- ups crazy.
He also talks about some very dangerous things he did. He would hop on a slow moving train beside the grocery where his mom worked, and ride across town to baseball practice! And when his grandparents managed a little theatre in the south part of town, Don and his uncles would stay late and sweep the theatre after it closed. If it was snowy when they left. They would wait for a bus to stop in front of the theatre, then grab the back bumper, and slide home on the ice.
Scares me to think about it. It is a wonder he survived his childhood.
But the resourceful, busy boy grew up to be a resourceful busy man. And he always made up fun games and contests for his own kids to play. And then he entertained the grandkids in much the same way. And he still keeps himself very busy. He gets up in the mornings with an agenda - at least a half day of little jobs, errands, and places to go - people to care for. The neighbors ask, "Where does he go so early every morning?"
Oh, and the little boy who loved to listen to The Grand Ole Opry and The Hit Parade on the radio? He's this grown up man who loves to listen to music on his satellite radio, or our favorite CD's. He can still name a the artists, and looks up lyrics and artists' names on the internet.
Still happy entertaining himself and keeping busy. One of his coaches in college, talking about Don's resourcefulness and drive, said, "I don't know where you got it, but don't ever lose it."
He hasn't - only maybe a little slower version of himself. But, I would love to have known the little boy.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
The Ironing Board Chair
I have never lived a day in my life without this chair being in it. This chair was made by my Grandfather Lininger at sometime in the 1920's I think. This was during the Great Depression, and my parents, along with my two oldest brothers, were forced to move in and live with my mother's parents, Grandma and Grandpa Lininger. My older brothers were probably about 3 and 1 at the time.
I am not sure how long this living arrangement lasted, but two more boys were born in the 30's, and I came along in 1936, and I'm pretty sure that only the two older boys lived with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa Lininger built this chair as a "time out" chair for the little boys. As I remember Grandpa, he was not terribly enthralled with little children, and was a little short on patience. The Time Out chair was probably a good idea. And, I'm sure that, being short of money, Grandpa used whatever materials were at hand. In this case, he used an old wooden ironing board. If you look closely at the back of the chair, you will recognize the shape.
This chair was always in our house as I grew up. I remember it for a short while in the laundry room with an always overflowing laundry basket sitting on it. But, mostly I remember it for years in my parents' bedroom sitting by my dad's side of the bed. And it was always stacked tall with issues of the "Saturday Evening Post." All the years of my dad's life, that I knew him, he subscribed to this magazine, and only this magazine. You know the Post - it is still in print in a much smaller paper-saving version. It always had a cover that was a painting by Norman Rockwell. It had recent news and human interest stories, some fiction short stories, and a lot of cartoons.
My dad read the post in bed every night before falling asleep. I believe I started reading it as soon as I learned to read, or maybe even before. I loved the pictures and the cartoons. I can remember lying on their bed on summer afternoons and reading that week's issue. I know it wasn't great literature, but I liked it, and it introduced me to American culture as only a popular magazine can. When I see today's little puny version, it makes me sad and homesick to see my mom and dad propped up in bed reading when I went in to kiss them good night.
Now the chair sits in my bedroom by the window. The seat has a crack that might pinch your bottom if you sit in it. Anyway, it's really too low for an adult. So you see that now it has been claimed by Frank the cat, and from this viewpoint he loves to survey his empire. It is comforting to awaken in the night, and see him keeping watch over our little world.
The Ironing Board Chair - it's not beautiful - but it continues to keep me connected.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Senior Adventures
Don and I sat having our raisin bread toast and coffee this morning, and discussing some of our "senior" experiences that occur daily. We were both closing one eye and saying what little we could see with our left eyes. ( I won that contest.) This led me to mention what strange things my eyes do while I'm reading. I should only read large print books. But I have good friends who give me books they say I simply have to read, and so I do even though they have tiny, tiny print. I have been trying to finish Ginny's book "The Hissy Fit." It is hilarious and a great read, but her copy has teeny, teeny print. When my eyes get tired as I'm reading, I get these crazy swirls all about the perimeter of my eyesight. It is like reading with your book in a bowl full of worms.
Then at night when I close my eyes I sometimes have a very colorful light show behind my eyelids. Don often has "floaters" in his vision. And he has experienced optical migraines that are so bad he has to stop the car, put his head back, and close his eyes until it passes. All these vision problems cause us to carefully select seats in restaurants to avoid glaring light, and to not recognize friends' faces when we come inside from bright daylight.
Then there are the little hearing antagonisms. Don has some ocean wave roaring in his ears. I have a sudden loud banging sound sometimes when falling asleep. That syndrome was explained on the "Doc Martin" show, but I can't remember what causes it.
( I shall save memory loss for another blog.) Then, sometimes when I awaken in the morning and move my head on the pillow I have a sound in my ears like sand moving in a sand bag. Maybe it is sand. I've heard of people having sawdust for brains.
I won't even mention all the idiosyncracies of the digestive system. They are too numerous and gross for delicate reading. I try my best to keep these hidden from the public eye. I will say that I strictly adhere to the four basic senior food groups that my body craves: sugar, fats, salt, and caffeine.
Today Cheryl and I are going out for a mom/daughter lunch and shopping trip. She is full of energy, hopping in and out of the car, and insisting on helping me walk so I won't fall over something. Bless her heart. I remember when I used to hop in and out of cars and lightly skip up steps. Alas, that is not a part of the senior experience. Here is the proper senior way of getting into a car: turn clear around, drop your rear end onto the seat, and carefully pull your legs in after being sure to not injure your bad hip.
And, as far as steps go: Mike, the therapist says that you always lead with your good hip and leg when going up the steps, and lead with the bad one when going down.
To help seniors remember, he says, "You know bad things go down you know where."
Mike and I share the same philosophy of life: all bad things should go you know where. An even better plan is: if there is a ramp, take it. Always follow the path of least resistance.
So, enough about our senior adventures. All I have left to say that all my senses are diminished except maybe one: the sense of humor. Cheryl and I often laugh so hard at lunch that we fear getting asked to leave the restaurant. Well, here she is, come to pick me up. We're off on another adventure.
Then at night when I close my eyes I sometimes have a very colorful light show behind my eyelids. Don often has "floaters" in his vision. And he has experienced optical migraines that are so bad he has to stop the car, put his head back, and close his eyes until it passes. All these vision problems cause us to carefully select seats in restaurants to avoid glaring light, and to not recognize friends' faces when we come inside from bright daylight.
Then there are the little hearing antagonisms. Don has some ocean wave roaring in his ears. I have a sudden loud banging sound sometimes when falling asleep. That syndrome was explained on the "Doc Martin" show, but I can't remember what causes it.
( I shall save memory loss for another blog.) Then, sometimes when I awaken in the morning and move my head on the pillow I have a sound in my ears like sand moving in a sand bag. Maybe it is sand. I've heard of people having sawdust for brains.
I won't even mention all the idiosyncracies of the digestive system. They are too numerous and gross for delicate reading. I try my best to keep these hidden from the public eye. I will say that I strictly adhere to the four basic senior food groups that my body craves: sugar, fats, salt, and caffeine.
Today Cheryl and I are going out for a mom/daughter lunch and shopping trip. She is full of energy, hopping in and out of the car, and insisting on helping me walk so I won't fall over something. Bless her heart. I remember when I used to hop in and out of cars and lightly skip up steps. Alas, that is not a part of the senior experience. Here is the proper senior way of getting into a car: turn clear around, drop your rear end onto the seat, and carefully pull your legs in after being sure to not injure your bad hip.
And, as far as steps go: Mike, the therapist says that you always lead with your good hip and leg when going up the steps, and lead with the bad one when going down.
To help seniors remember, he says, "You know bad things go down you know where."
Mike and I share the same philosophy of life: all bad things should go you know where. An even better plan is: if there is a ramp, take it. Always follow the path of least resistance.
So, enough about our senior adventures. All I have left to say that all my senses are diminished except maybe one: the sense of humor. Cheryl and I often laugh so hard at lunch that we fear getting asked to leave the restaurant. Well, here she is, come to pick me up. We're off on another adventure.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Our Big Anniversary Celebration
Today is our wedding anniversary - our 54th, to be exact. It sounds like a very long time, but those years seemed to have rolled by quickly when we look backward from this viewpoint.
It has been a good marriage and a happy life. Of course, we have had our tough times and our challenges, but we have always faced them together and with love.
There have also been a lot of laughs and some really good stories - some I cannot tell.
We have never been real big on celebrating anniversaries. It is usually like by evening on the day it dawns on us that it is our anniversary. So we go out to eat to celebrate - just like we do every day. I choose to believe that our whole life is one big celebration, not that we forget to celebrate anniversaries.
We knew that we each had other things to do today - Don met Chuck for their usual Wednesday afternoon watching the horse races on simulcast. Sometimes they even place a bet, or rather Don places the bets. Chuck has a time getting in and out of chairs. I was having lunch with the Menta ladies club, just as we do twice a month. Later Don mowed yards and I checked the E mails, then we had carry-in chicken dinners, spent an hour at the casino, and visited Cheryl at her evening job in the garden shop. Yeh, it was a good celebration, pretty much like all our days.
We did take a little road trip yesterday down to Cambridge City to visit the antique mall where we used to have a booth. Then we ate lunch at one of our favortie lunch spots in Cambridge City, the Lakeview. We said it was a pre-anniversary trip because we knew we would be busy today. I'm just saying - we aren't big on celebrating. I did bake a coffee cake to leave on the kitchen counter for breakfast as is our custom on special days. This always prompts Don to make an early morning trip to the store to buy a card - which he did this morning. It WAS a very sweet card.
Once, many years ago, Don said that we would go to Hawaii on our 25th anniversary. Here it is our 54th, and I think it is safe to say that I have never been out of Indiana on any of our anniversaries. One year we totally forgot the date. We were in Certerville helping Rod move. The temperatures were in the 90's, we were very very tired, hot, and dirty. We were driving home early evening when it suddenly dawned on us that it was our anniversary. So we stopped in Losantville, population
maybe 100, and had supper at the Blue Moon Cafe. Not Hawaii, but maybe the most exotic of spots in Losantville.
Well, anyway, we figure that it is all that other important stuff that you do for each other on the other 364 days that really matters. So Happy Anniversary, Honey, I think this marriage may last.
It has been a good marriage and a happy life. Of course, we have had our tough times and our challenges, but we have always faced them together and with love.
There have also been a lot of laughs and some really good stories - some I cannot tell.
We have never been real big on celebrating anniversaries. It is usually like by evening on the day it dawns on us that it is our anniversary. So we go out to eat to celebrate - just like we do every day. I choose to believe that our whole life is one big celebration, not that we forget to celebrate anniversaries.
We knew that we each had other things to do today - Don met Chuck for their usual Wednesday afternoon watching the horse races on simulcast. Sometimes they even place a bet, or rather Don places the bets. Chuck has a time getting in and out of chairs. I was having lunch with the Menta ladies club, just as we do twice a month. Later Don mowed yards and I checked the E mails, then we had carry-in chicken dinners, spent an hour at the casino, and visited Cheryl at her evening job in the garden shop. Yeh, it was a good celebration, pretty much like all our days.
We did take a little road trip yesterday down to Cambridge City to visit the antique mall where we used to have a booth. Then we ate lunch at one of our favortie lunch spots in Cambridge City, the Lakeview. We said it was a pre-anniversary trip because we knew we would be busy today. I'm just saying - we aren't big on celebrating. I did bake a coffee cake to leave on the kitchen counter for breakfast as is our custom on special days. This always prompts Don to make an early morning trip to the store to buy a card - which he did this morning. It WAS a very sweet card.
Once, many years ago, Don said that we would go to Hawaii on our 25th anniversary. Here it is our 54th, and I think it is safe to say that I have never been out of Indiana on any of our anniversaries. One year we totally forgot the date. We were in Certerville helping Rod move. The temperatures were in the 90's, we were very very tired, hot, and dirty. We were driving home early evening when it suddenly dawned on us that it was our anniversary. So we stopped in Losantville, population
maybe 100, and had supper at the Blue Moon Cafe. Not Hawaii, but maybe the most exotic of spots in Losantville.
Well, anyway, we figure that it is all that other important stuff that you do for each other on the other 364 days that really matters. So Happy Anniversary, Honey, I think this marriage may last.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Time Out
It has been over a month since I have written an entry on this blog site.
And the only excuse that I can offer is that I am suffering from an addiction.
I know, that is a shocking admission, but I am afraid there is no cure. You see, I
am addicted to British television. What is it about the British sense of humor?
I think it is because they are so preposterously outspoken, and their words are so
perfectly matched with preposterous facial expressions.
Most recently I discovered a series that had been on BBC for four seasons, and
was one that I had never seen before. It is called "Doc Martin," and I found all four seasons that could be watched instantly on Netflix. Well, you guessed it, instead of spending any time writing or doing much of anything else, I have spent most of my free time this past month watching all four seasons of "Doc Martin" from beginning to end.
I have yet to discover anyone, friends or family, who have ever seen or heard of this series. I first noticed the title because they received almost a 5 star rating on Netflix, and I had never seen any title that had much over a 4. So it immediately caught my attention, along with the fact that I could watch instantly.
It is a series about a highly regarded London surgeon who develops a deadly fear of
blood - not a good phobia for a doctor to have. It is necessary for him to give up his surgical practice and retrain as a general practitioner. He decides to move from London to the small seaside village of Portwenn in Cornwall. He buys a surgery that is in a terrible state of disorganization with, perhaps, the worst office girl on the face of the earth.
Doctor Ellingham, or Doc. Martin, as the villagers call him, is certainly the proverbial fish out of water in this small village. They are very simple village folk who know one another's business WAY TOO MUCH. He is a brilliant Londoner who has absolutely no bedside manner whatsoever. Picture Dr. House with a neat haircut in a suit, white shirt, and tie. I mean he is ALWAYS in a suit, white shirt, and tie. And he always says exactly what he thinks. If he thinks they are ignorant, he tells them they are ignorant. Get the picture? Of course, the twists of the plots always make the outcomes seem like his fault, and the whole village knows and talks about it!
The medical situations are fascinating. The plot twists are at times hysterical. And you have to feel sorry for poor Doc Martin, even if he is thoroughly obnoxious.
Stir in a little love interest, or maybe a big love interest that finds him always with foot in mouth. Set all these happenings in a beautifully quaint English village, and you will see why I have been hooked for the last month.
The only ray of hope is that while doing research about the series, I read that they will soon be filming season five.
And the only excuse that I can offer is that I am suffering from an addiction.
I know, that is a shocking admission, but I am afraid there is no cure. You see, I
am addicted to British television. What is it about the British sense of humor?
I think it is because they are so preposterously outspoken, and their words are so
perfectly matched with preposterous facial expressions.
Most recently I discovered a series that had been on BBC for four seasons, and
was one that I had never seen before. It is called "Doc Martin," and I found all four seasons that could be watched instantly on Netflix. Well, you guessed it, instead of spending any time writing or doing much of anything else, I have spent most of my free time this past month watching all four seasons of "Doc Martin" from beginning to end.
I have yet to discover anyone, friends or family, who have ever seen or heard of this series. I first noticed the title because they received almost a 5 star rating on Netflix, and I had never seen any title that had much over a 4. So it immediately caught my attention, along with the fact that I could watch instantly.
It is a series about a highly regarded London surgeon who develops a deadly fear of
blood - not a good phobia for a doctor to have. It is necessary for him to give up his surgical practice and retrain as a general practitioner. He decides to move from London to the small seaside village of Portwenn in Cornwall. He buys a surgery that is in a terrible state of disorganization with, perhaps, the worst office girl on the face of the earth.
Doctor Ellingham, or Doc. Martin, as the villagers call him, is certainly the proverbial fish out of water in this small village. They are very simple village folk who know one another's business WAY TOO MUCH. He is a brilliant Londoner who has absolutely no bedside manner whatsoever. Picture Dr. House with a neat haircut in a suit, white shirt, and tie. I mean he is ALWAYS in a suit, white shirt, and tie. And he always says exactly what he thinks. If he thinks they are ignorant, he tells them they are ignorant. Get the picture? Of course, the twists of the plots always make the outcomes seem like his fault, and the whole village knows and talks about it!
The medical situations are fascinating. The plot twists are at times hysterical. And you have to feel sorry for poor Doc Martin, even if he is thoroughly obnoxious.
Stir in a little love interest, or maybe a big love interest that finds him always with foot in mouth. Set all these happenings in a beautifully quaint English village, and you will see why I have been hooked for the last month.
The only ray of hope is that while doing research about the series, I read that they will soon be filming season five.
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