Remembering October

My last Blog was the end of September. I was so glad that month was over because it has always brought back many unpleasant memories. I told you October is the month that all of the good things in my life happen.

Living up to it's expectations it was a very good month, There was a blip in the road this year. My "perfect part time job" is no longer. My job turned in to a full time position and I had to let it go. After twelve years of retirement, I just couldn't go back to full time work. I knew that it would not be good for me physically and would also mess up my state insurance. With all of my health problems, I just couldn't take that chance. It was difficult to leave and not the perfect circumstances. I prayed for grace and have come to terms with retirement again. I am not sure why I have so much trouble with not being employed. I need to feel a purpose in my life. I have started back to substitute teaching with DCPS in Special Needs classes. I love to work with the children and these are the ones who seem to need the most love and maturity. It is a good fit, for I surely have "maturity" and seldom find a child that I can't love.

We celebrated all of our birthdays and anniversary. We were busy and had really good times. Jim and I took a little trip to our favorite B&B in Missouri to celebrated our 39th anniversary. It is a very quaint little community and is always relaxing. This year they had built a zip line in town. Of course, it was the perfect opportunity for my dare devil husband. He glided through the trees as I sat on a log and watched. He loved it!!!

On Halloween, we had a special "Trick or Treater". Our doorbell rang at 8:00 as we were deciding what to do that day. I heard one of my most precious voices say, "Trick or Treat". It was Brittany and George! They had driven through the night to come home . We sat down and started talking until Brittany couldn't stand it any more. She told us that we are going to be Grandparents!!! Such wonderful and exciting news. We can hardly wait to have our little firecracker join the family. The due date is July 4th. What a way to end our special month.

I knew when I lost my job that God must have something else in store for me. I can now go to Charleston anytime I want! I also have time to spend with friends and do whatever I want---visit an ex-sister-in-law in the nursing home, visit an invalid friend, help a friend put up Christmas decorations, drive the sleigh for Santa and anything else I choose to do. Life is good and again, October brought many blessings!!!

September

Today is the 29th of September. It is the end of my September "funk" and the beginning of all that is good in my life. September was the month that presented many personal tragedies for me. Unimaginable pain, suffering and grief. Some years I have been so busy still getting school started that the underlying sadness was there, but not the time to actually recall the events.

This year marked the fortieth anniversary of my father's tragic and untimely death. He was 44 years old and left my mother a widow at just 39 with a one year old baby. The preceding year had also been a rough one. Mom and Dad were involved in a head on collision with Mom being 7 1/2 months pregnant and taking the brunt of the injuries. I was in college and dropped out that semester to come home and care for the family. Mom had a concussion and a severely shattered leg. She had her leg in traction when she went into premature labor. I was alone with her at the hospital. She delivered a beautiful baby girl with one leg swung in the air and not very coherent from the head injury. There are still some things about that period of my life that I can't talk about. That college semester I was home changed my life forever. I would not have a carefree period in my life for many years. My brother was sixteen, a new baby to care for, my Dad was pretty bunged up and my Mom was in a cast from her waist down her leg. When I did go back to school it all seemed very petty. I could not imagine a normal life---ever.

It was a struggle to get back on track with my education---but I knew I had to get that degree. That was the thing that would give me the ability to escape from life as I had known it. In order to get the courses that I needed, I had to live in the Home Management house, transfer to Western for a summer to get the required courses to catch up and move to Russellville, Ky to do my Student Teaching. I had just registered that day and would be living in the Home Management House the day that my father died. I couldn't stay home with my mother---I had to keep on track. Life was hard, very hard and I was torn between worry for my Mom and trying to reach my goal.

From the day my Dad died until 2005 when my Mom died---I was her support and helped her in every way that I could and helped her with raising Jodi. I loved my Mom dearly, but our roles had pretty much switched. Her life stood still and she never moved on until she died. She was sick for only a short period of time and died quickly. This was a blessing.

Jim's mother died Labor day weekend of 2002 after a lengthy battle with Cancer. She spent the last 3 months of her life in a hospital. I was alone with her when she died. This was OK, since I knew that she was going to have a hard time leaving this earth with anyone else there. We had many family discussions throughout that long, hot summer and everyone had said their private goodbyes. It happened just as I had known it would.

My brother had carotid artery surgery last week and I was so scared. He has Diabetes and the surgery is very dangerous. I know I would have worried any time it was done, but the fact that the surgery was planned for the end of September made it ten times worse for me. I couldn't shake the September curse feeling. He did remarkably well and God was good.

Last year Jim and I took a bike trip and were gone all of September--returning home the day before Jen's birthday. It was a wonderful September!! The best of my life. I caught up on many of the carefree days that I had missed in previous Septembers. I didn't realize it could be such a beautiful month.

So you see, my reruns of September are mostly, not happy thoughts and I am glad to put this month behind me! But today is different, although it is still September---the 29th--- it is my new daughter-in-law's birthday and we will begin to celebrate. Tomorrow is Jodi's birthday---we will celebrate---and then October begins. Beautiful and hopeful, with all of it's magnificent color and new beginnings. Josh's birthday is next---October 11th, then Jim's is October 12th. Brittany 's birthday is the 28th. Our 39th anniversary will be October the thirtieth and Halloween always rounds out the month. During most of my life I also celebrated National School Lunch Week the second week of October. October is busy and glorious and God's affirmation that life is good and whatever doesn't kill you----does make you stronger.

Welcome October!!!

Goodbyes

Brittany was home for a week the first of August. It was the longest she had been home for a very long time. We had a great visit and managed to clean out her memorabilia from school and college days. We laughed and had a great time remembering those days. It is much more fun to look back now that she is a mature woman. We decided that no one has had any more fun than she has. There were a few memories that weren't so much fun---but were character builders.

I took her to Louisville to catch the plane home. I made it through the goodbye at the airport with a smile and a wave. I walked to the car and drove away. About 5 miles down the road an old country western song came on the radio. The song was the last Goodbye. If this were your last goodbye---did you tell them how much you love them? I began to cry. I knew that all of my love ones know how much I love them. I even tell my friends that I love them. I cried because of something that I had seen all too often lately.

Jim and I have taken two long rides this summer and several short ones. I have seen thousands of crosses on the sides of the road. So many people whose lives have been snuffed out, without a chance to say goodbye. Every cross is different and many times you get a feel for the life they represent. There are crosses with baby pink and blue wreaths with stuffed animals, crosses that are made of wood , some that are metal with barbed wire around them with names like "Duke and Wolf", decorated for every occasion. Loved ones leave all kinds of symbols of the character of their loved ones. The saddest of all is when you see a grouping of three or more with a large cross and several small ones. I am not sure how people go on after losing their entire family. They move on because they have no other choice. When I see these, I always remember my high school friend whose husband and two children were killed in a automobile crash about twenty years ago. Gracie was a second wife to Darell and and loved him with all of her heart. After her loss she grieved until she died an early life--she died after a brief illness, but she died of a broken heart, mostly.

While Brittany was home she visited with an elderly lady who was somewhat like a grandmother to her. She and her sons operate a gas station that we have used for years. Brittany would not go to get gas unless she had at least thirty minutes to talk and laugh with Ms Anna Booker. When she was home we had a little get together for Brittany. Even though we knew Ms Booker was very ill, we sent her an invitation. She called on the day of the party and said she wasn't able to come. Brittany was trying to decide whether to take her some goodies and go for a visit. She asked me what I thought and I told her it was completely up to her. She only weighed about 80 pounds and was failing fast. My advice was that if she wanted to remember her the way she had known her---don't go, if she wanted to see her and say goodbye--to go. She decided to go and they laughed and talked and Ms Booker ate more than she had for weeks. Anna Booker died two weeks later and Brittany had given her a fun visit and a final goodbye.

This week Senator Edward Kennedy died and via television, we all watched the mourning process of the Kennedy family again. Unlike the previous Kennedy deaths, Teddy Kennedy was given a chance to say his goodbyes. One of his family members said it was as if he was able to take a victory lap. The eulogies and prayers included his trials and tribulations and his many successful public accomplishments. The most touching words were those of his grandchildren. After the deaths of his two brothers, he became the father to his 13 nieces and nephews and four children. He lived a full life and gave them a true family closeness and the biggest gift for a Kennedy--the chance to say goodbye.

Goodbyes are hard many times, but not having the chance to say them is unfinished business and never goes away. I have watched people I love die slowly and painfully and I have had the shock of sudden death. It is important to me to always take the chance to say goodbye and tell someone how much they mean to me. I volunteered for Hospice a number of years ago and I know that dying well is a beautiful and natural thing. I learned how important it is that we not waste an opportunity to visit the terminally ill, even if it is hard, both you and the patient will be blessed with closure. My advice is the same as the song---"What would you say, if you knew it were your last goodbye?"

Sitting on the porch

I am sitting in my new office on the second floor of our brand new building. I love my new office and my window. After sharing an office for almost six years in less than optimal conditions---I truly appreciate the space, cleanliness and calm. I feel like I have died and gone to office heaven!

As I look out my window, there is a house across the street from me that takes me back to Spottsville almost 50 years ago. I go back to a simpler time during summer vacations. The thing that keeps prodding that memory is a front porch the entire width of the house with two doors going in to the front of the house. Most especially the freshly dust mopped battleship grey painted wood floor. My grandmother mopped the porch on a regular basis and dust mopped it daily. There is one rug as you step onto the porch and another that leads all the way to the door. NO-ONE enters with their shoes on. The back porch on my grandmother's house was the same as the front, only higher from the ground and just as clean. The children had to be watched carefully to keep us from falling off. Maybe that was just me because of my clumbsiness.

You could sit on the front porch and people would walk down the road and stop---just to talk a spell. The back porch was used to do the laundry with a wringer washer. White clothes were washed first, then light colored, then darker colors and finaly dirtiest work clothes. My grandmother used pant stretchers to keep from ironing pants. They were a pretty cool invention. I don't think she liked ironing any better than I do. We played on the porches. We talked and dreamed on the porches. Nothing was better on a late summer day than swinging on the porch.

There is not a lot of activity on the porch I look at daily. People come and go but don't sit there much. The lady wears "house dresses" that are belted above her belly like my grandmother. Ladies just didn't wear pants much back in my grandmother's day and evidently she like many her age just never felt right in them.

Some day I am going to go visit the lady across the street---clean my shoes off really good ---
and sit for a while---think about the days gone by. Yes someday.....

I Am at The Point

I just received an e-mail today from my great Aunt Ruby Lee with the following thought. It struck me that this is what age and perspective gives you. The older you are---the more true this becomes.

"There comes a point in your life when you realize:
Who matters.....
Who never did......
Who won't anymore......
And who always will.
So don't worry about people from your past, there is a reason they didn't make it to your future."

It would be wonderful if young people could realize this and not waste as much time on people who will prove to be insignificant in their future. Maybe that lesson is one that we need to learn in order to appreciate our truly good friends.

True friendship is always a give and take. You know the kind of people who call and you know they want something from you and you call them and they never reciprocate. There are also the friends that call just to check on you and if you don't hear from them it is your turns to call to touch base. Friends that you can talk to every six months and pick up where you left off are always nice.

Many friends fill a need at any given time--such as the parents you talk to at your children's school--classmates---work colleagues---organizational friends---all your life friends---talk to you if I see you out but would never call friends---and the "bestest kind of friends"---the ones that will be there for you whenever, wherever and whatever.

I just got home from a trip and am glad to see all of the friendly faces in my life.

Communication

When I was growing up there was only one form of one on one daily communication. The telephone, which was a land line and only one phone per household. The telephone was located in a central part of the house and had to be used at that specific location. We had a telephone table which was a seat with a shelf on the right of the seat to hold the phone. Later, the phone was a wall hanging phone with a long cord that allowed you to move across the kitchen and still talk. What a convenience that was. You could actually do something else while you talked---like wash dishes or stir the pot on the stove. Who could have imagined cordless phones and 6 year olds with cell phones? Many houses, like the one we live in now ( built in the late forties), actually had a little alcove built into the wall in the hall to hold the phone. You not only had to share the phone with everyone who lived in the house with you, but also those on your party line. A party line meant you shared your phone with either two or four other households. Everyone had a different ring like one long ring and one short ring, two long rings, two short rings or one short ring followed by a long ring. If you picked up the phone to use it and somebody else was using it you could actually listen to their conversations. My Uncle Joe was known to eavesdrop. If the person heard the click they would say--I think someone is listening. Uncle Joe would say " Oh it is just poor old Joe, I am just dusting the phone". If it were a true emergency you would politely ask if you could use the phone. The worst part was when you were actually expecting a call and someone on your party line would keep it busy. Oh, life before cell phones.

I can't actually tell you when I got my first cell phone. Jim had a business phone very early on and it came in a bag about the size of a small breadbox. When the kids were relatively young in the early eighties, I was in graduate school during the summer. I was driving back and forth to Bowling Green and had no communication with them during the day. That was the first time in my life that being without a phone seemed to be a problem for me. Until then I just did not feel that being out of communication for a short period of time could be a problem. Until about five years ago, we always had a live answering service. We could always call them to get messages or to leave a message for someone who called. No one freaked out like today, if they can't reach someone immediately by phone. Oh---those were the days and today's children will never know that feeling. The total lack of immediateness of life. Today everyone has their own special ring tone so the caller will know who is on the other end before they pick up the phone. Before they can even look at the caller ID number! The surprise of who is on the other end is gone. Today, most people make a conscious decision of whether or not they want to talk to the caller, before they hear the voice. We were just so glad someone was calling, that they were able to get through to us and everyone was mostly glad to talk. Now days everyone has a zillion phones and call for the most stupid reasons. Young people for the most part can't save a thought and gather them all together to make one call. Every thought must be transmitted by phone or text message or e-mail or Instant Message individually and within nano moments of the thought racing through the head.

We are so inundated with all of the communication that it literally drives us to turn off the phone. Meetings are always punctuated with a cell phone ring--some of the ring tones give me
pause to wonder---"what were they thinking?'. I recently called my daughter by mistake during a school day. Her phone doesn't even work on school property, but it did on that particular day. The day before, she had enforced the no cell phones in class with one of her high school students. So not only did the phone ring, her purse was all the way on the other side of the room and the ring tone was a little embarrassing.

When Brittany went to college I would have never kept up with her any way except on her yellow cell phone. When Josh went to college, I finally learned to type. I couldn't type because I took typing in college and Robin couldn't stand for me to peck at the keys--- so she did my homework!! I always was fortunate to have someone who would do my typing until e-mail came along. Had to learn to do that myself. The best way I could communicate with him was e-mail. My daughter is a talker and my son is a writer.

There is also the instant phone texting which can occupy your thoughts when you are unable or it is inappropriate to talk. You can also read your e-mail via the phone. You can keep up with all of your friends and what they are having for lunch via facebook, via e-mail, via cell phone. What do you have to talk about when you get face to face??? Maybe I am just getting old and cranky, but TMI (too much information) makes me CRAZY.

What I think the most wonderful communication tool that really is a huge help is the FAX machine. The FAX changed business in an orderly and productive way that e-mail will never do. Faxes are usefull, but not all that much fun, especially the one at work that I have never been able to master. They are there for you when you want them but don't intrude when you don't. Bingo---not fun--not abused. Real messages, legal documents, reports, rough drafts, medical reports need to go anywhere---just FAX a copy, instantly. Don't get me wrong, I like e-mail and surfing the net---but for business purposes---FAX and telephones are definitely the most efficient in my opinion.

Mother Days

Mothers Day comes once a year but the most special days were my true mother days, October 11, 1977 and October 28, 1980. These were the days that I gave birth to my two beautiful babies. I can proudly say they were a true blessing to me then, as they are today. I am not sure how I got so lucky--but God blessed me with wonderful children who have turned into delightful adults and my two best friends. Last year was also special, because they were both married to spouses whom they truly loved and love them in return. How much better does life get?

I have only eaten out twice on Mothers Day. This morning I went out to eat breakfast alone. Don't feel sorry for me---Jim rode his midnight ride last night and had breakfast with his friends and I opted to stay home and sleep. We will celebrate the day with grilled steaks later this afternoon. I must tell you about the last time we ate lunch out on Mothers Day. I think it was probably 1979. All of the mothers in Jim's family decided we needed to go out for lunch. Josh and Wesley were 1 1 /2 and the other children, Jodi, Carrie, Jonas, Cindy and Mona were school age and preteens. There was probably a total of about twenty people and we went to Western Sizzling Steak House. It was a "not so upscale place" and you had to wait in line. It took at least two hours to get a table and by the time we did-- all of the kids including Josh (who never got cranky) were out of control. Jim was starving and always gets extremely irritable when he gets hungry. I think it took us about four hours. That was the day we swore that we would never go out for a holiday again!! And to this day---we haven't. I can't remember many of the details, but knew I never wanted to do it again.

One other Mothers Day will always stand out. It was 1997. Brittany had just gotten her drivers license and begged me to drive to the BBQ festival. I gave her all of the usual warnings about being careful and parking away from the most traffic. She did that, but didn't notice that she parked early in the afternoon and one of the popular taverns was just across the street. When she got ready to leave, she had an accident. It was Saturday night before Mothers Day and we were all wiped out the next day. That incident, as awful as it was---probably made us much closer. I was thankful it wasn't any worse and that my baby was safe and she was thankful, I was there for her.

By the time I was the only mother to spend the day with, my children were gone from the nest and gone from Owensboro. I am glad to have Josh and Jen here for all of our holidays. One out of two isn't bad. Brittany will always be here in spirit. She is so much like me that I have no problem reading her mind. Josh on the other hand---I need to see his eyes and then---I don't always know what is going on. What I do know without a doubt is they love me and neither are very hard on me about my parenting skills. My greatest gift is that I can still tell my kids (all four of them now) that I love them every time I talk to them.

When I drove back into the drive this morning I saw my bright pink azalea blooming and looking at me. It was from the last Mothers Day I spent with my Grandmother Heppler. She got it as a prize for being the oldest mother at Newman Baptist Church. Every year it blooms I remember her and it seems to beckon me when I pull in my drive. When the kids were young Newman also had a tradition of giving all of the mothers a flower on that Sunday. The best gifts for me were the ones made by their little hands and given with so much pride.

There was also the year that Brittany's teacher had them write about their mothers and had it published in the local paper. Brittany said, "I love my Mom because she lets me do anything I want if it isn't dangerous". I just knew that people thought my parenting skills lacked a lot. What they didn't know was that Brittany was a very "spirited" child and I learned very early that I had to pick my fights. If it wasn't dangerous or disrespectful--it usually wasn't worth fighting over.

Since my Mothers birthday was the 18th of May, there were many Mothers Days that were spent trying to make all of the rounds to all of the Moms and grandmothers and still do something special for Mom's birthday. It would sometimes get pretty hectic as the end of school
approached. I must say I miss those days and and I miss my mother and all of the others. Like most other holidays, I learned that it was easier to celebrate and host them at my house. My children don't remember many family gatherings except at home. I wish more than anything that Mom could have seen how Brittany and Josh turned out---she would be so proud and so would Granny Benson.

Happy Mothers Day to all of my friends who are moms and those who have helped me raise my children, most especially Donna Basham (emergency contact and friend). Have a great day Mr. Bloggeriffic--you do a fantastic job of both mothering and being a Daddy to Jarod.

Treasure Hunting

The Spring and Fall are my favorite times of the year to go treasure hunting. My treasure hunting involves getting up early on Saturdays to roam around town and visit garage sales. When the kids were young, anytime we took a walk we also looked for treasures--a feather,small broken toys, a special rock---anything could be a treasure. Not only do I find treasures but also meet interesting people. One day last Fall, I went to a sale that was run by a man, which is a little unusual. He had lots of red shirts in Jim's size(this man had been an avid Daviess County band parent whose colors were red). I told him that my husband played Santa and he looked at me and said you must be Sherry Benson. He knew Jim, and I was impressed that he knew my name. He was a wonderful man and we enjoyed a very pleasant conversation. I meet lots of old friends and visit with people in the community.

Last weekend, I found several treasures. I found an Otis Redding CD for Brittany with her special song that she played for George on their wedding day. I found a small sewing kit for 25 cents that included something that I really need---a small metal needle threader. I can never thread a needle anymore---I think they are making the eyes of the needles smaller as my eyes get weaker. My favorite treasure that day was a handmade white felt angel with angora wool hair. It came from an identical kit that my mother had bought at the old SW Anderson's Department store here in Owensboro. There were four angels in the kit, pink, blue, gold and white. There on a table with many forlorn articles, I saw my mothers hands as she carefully crafted the angels. I smiled and gave a nod to the skies as I made my purchase. One dollar for a great treasure and wonderful memory. I wonder how many people passed it by that day, before I got there. At my friend and supervisor's sale, I purchased a blue cornflower corning ware butter dish and lid. It had belonged to her mother. There is no telling how many pounds of butter has been served from that dish. I know most people use tubs of margarine from the grocery, but I still like stick butter---the real thing.

This past weekend, I had my monthly MOP group to volunteer at 11:00, so my treasure hunting was a little rushed. There was a $1.00 tea kettle that I found that I needed during the ice storm, 10 cents for a bag of lanterns to fit on Christmas lights, and a real deal on two matching tablecloths with ten napkins that I will use at one of my future catering projects---jewel tone plaids with bold colored napkins. White china cups and saucers to round out a set of plain white everyday china. With my purchase from Jen and Josh last year--an eight piece place setting for less than forty dollars. White will be a nice change for the Spring and Summer. I also purchased a hand embroidered pillowcase with a flower basket and a honey bee---since Reed calls me "B".

My home is filled with treasures and memories. Other than electronics, appliances and an occasional sofa (three to be exact in 38 years), everything has had a life somewhere else.
Buying new and retail never gives me the same feeling as reinventing a pre-loved object. This is my way of connecting the past to the present and hopefully to the future AND recycling.

One of my favorite treasures is a baby blue coffee mug with a gold nativity scene on it. The words in gold also say "Peace on Earth". It was late on a Saturday afternoon on one of the most elite neighborhoods in Owensboro. The sale had attracted big crowds because of the location. I walked by a table and there was the blue cup--calling me to pick it up. I picked the cup up and could tell it wasn't cheap. There was a tag on it that said "Free to a good Home". I knew that I would give it a good home and I cherish it every Christmas as I enjoy relaxing with a cup of coffee in my light blue living room. As always, I wondered how many people had passed that cup and couldn't commit to giving it a good home.

I leave a lot of treasure at the sales. I have new rules.
I must have an immediate use for it.
I must know where I will put it.
I will not buy things for other people unless it is really special!!! ( except Reed)
I will have fun and relax.

Age is Relavent

Lately, I have been feeling old. It could be because everyone my age is having birthdays that qualify them for social security. It could be because almost everyone I work with is considerably younger than me. Whatever the reason--I felt old. I have also figured out my desire to blog. When I was young, I was taught to respect my elders. This wasn't very difficult for me because I loved being around older people. They were so full of wisdom and I enjoyed hearing the stories of "how things used to be". Most of the people I worked with were considerably older than me and I had some wonderful mentors. My employees were much older and taught me so much. I lived in my own little world where I was "the youngest". I thought when I got to be their age there would be people who would want to learn from me. Everything is very different now! The age of technology and instant gratification is upon us. Twittering, or tweeter, facebook, instant message, cell phones and internet have catapulted young people into an age of "only what I want to know--when I want to know it" Young people don't have time for stories, they can instantly find the answers to their questions on the internet at their convenience and in brevity. They don't have time for stories and really don't want to listen.
This is why I feel the need to write, I need to tell my stories and nobody wants to listen.

Thursday, I attended a funeral of my beloved Sunday School teacher Bea Green. She was 95 years old. She was my spiritual mentor in my formative years. She was one of the older generation that helped to build my moral compass. She also was the person who taught me the books of the Bible. After nearly fifty years, I can still recite the entire list of the books of the Old Testament. Every time I hear the country song lyrics--everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to go NOW, I think of Bea. She was ready to go for as long as I remember. She played the piano by ear and wrote songs and poetry. When I ride across country, I think of a song she taught us about riding on the king's highway. It was a metaphor for riding with Jesus and I can appreciate all of what God made on the back of our Harley.

I think I may have been the youngest person at the funeral with the exception of family members. I sat next to a lady that came in alone and I have known her all of my life, but not well. She was dressed to perfection and her shoes and purse matched. She had on a lovely pastel pink suit and carried a cane. I am sure she is past 85, but not sure how far passed. She was a delight to talk to. She said that she dresses and gets out every day and still drives herself. Her body showed some age, but she definitely was young in spirit. My Aunt Lou sat next to me and she is seventy seven, I think. I only wish that I looked as good as she does and my other aunt that is also her age.

Age is definitely relavent and mostly mental.

Robinella

Almost forty years ago,(that seems impossible) I met Robinella Allen. Robin later became my college roommate. She not only had a unique name, but she was a one of a kind! Robin was an only child and was from Livonia, MI, just outside Detroit. She had little tolerance for anybody that she didn't immediately like. Luckily for me, she liked me. Robin ate things that I had never been exposed to like pistachios, black olives and peanut butter pizza. There was a restaurant that would deliver to our dorm and she would order pizza with big globs of peanut butter on it. We became quite a pair. I spent most of the time apologizing for something rude that she said to people. She spent most of her time trying to speed me up!~ She had legs that seemed to come to my shoulders. She used to tell me that I should sue the city for building the sidewalks so close to my butt.

Robin was thin and tall and had stylish clothes. She had eye makeup in every color! She walked fast and she talked fast. Her parents had run a night club in MI and worked a lot at night. Robin always resented not having siblings and a close family. She had all the material things that she could ever want. She loved coming to southern IL and spending the summers with her maternal grandparents. For her, the small town and unlimited attention was heaven.

Living in a dorm room with Robin was an experience. She was spoiled rotten and would throw temper tantrums when things didn't go her way. The worst one that I remember, was when she literally tore the phone OFF the wall!! She would scream and throw anything and then it would be over. I learned pretty quickly just to leave and come back when it was over. It didn't take long until she realized that I wasn't going to watch her fits and that made her even madder. It was very exciting and never a dull moment with "the bird"(robin)! We did all of the things that you do in college and had so much fun. We bonded in a way that you can only do when you live with someone. Robin had a boyfriend when I started to college and so did I. Thank goodness that didn't last for either of us. She then met Tim McGrath who later became her husband. Tim was a wonderful guy and very mild mannered. I was so glad to have him in Robin's life because he took some of the load off me of apologizing for her. He also would try to explain her actions and make apologies. It was a hard job---but we both loved her.

I remember their romance and how it blossomed. The first Christmas Tim took Robin home for Christmas with him, she was hooked, for sure. Tim had the family that Robin had always longed for. Tim had a wonderful family life, complete with a brother and two sisters, a "Leave It To Beaver" Mother and a high school coach for a Dad. She loved them all!

While we were in college--class registration was harder than it is today. One semester Robin and Tim needed another class and I talked them into taking a class called "Nature and Needs of The Mentally Retarded". We were all education majors. A part of the class was a field trip to Outwood Residential Home and School for Retarded children. I thought Robin was going to die before we got out of there. She probably will get sick just thinking about it now. The following summer Robin stayed with her grandparents in Eldorado and worked at a facility for mentally challenged children. This is one of those things that I have seen in my life that I know God had a hand in. Robin and Tim's first child was born with Down's Syndrome. Don't get me wrong, Robin never believed that God gave them Jarrod because they were special. I do believe that he gave Robin a path that would make the cross bearable.

This brings me to one of my funniest stories about Robin, as Tim told it to me. They were walking down the street one day when a member of a civic group asked, "Would you give a dollar for a retarded child (he was selling Tootsie Rolls)"?? Tim said R never missed a step as she curtly replied, "No, thank you, I already have one!!!" I am not sure how Tim apologized to the man and I am not sure how many Tootsie Rolls he bought. Typical Robinella-ology.

Robin has two other children a beautiful blonde daughter and handsome blonde son. Megan is married and has two children who Robin adores. She also thinks the sun rises and sets in her bachelor son ,Caleb. Tim and Robin have made their home in Eldorado,IL. They live on a corner in the middle of small town USA in a big yellow house with a pool in the back yard. Robin loves to be in the yard planting flowers and doing yard work. She is a retired teacher and Tim a retired teacher and coach---they are Mr. Tim and Ms. Robin. Robin has lived the life she loved and dreamed of----just enjoying her home and her family in the community that has always been her little corner of heaven. Everyone should be so lucky!!

To those readers who are college friends of Brittany's, I hope your friendships last this long. Robin and I don't spend much time together anymore, but there is one piece of my heart reserved just for her.

Happy Birthday Robin----who would have thought??

Easter Eggs

I just finished dying Easter eggs with Reed, my 3 1/2 year old nephew. I have been married for 38 years and think I have dyed eggs every year. It seems that there was seldom a year that a cup of dye didn't get spilled. Miraculously, me and a preschooler were able to accomplish what grown adults had never been able to--no mess. Reed did remind me that he could dye eggs like Daddy Jim showed him, that he learned in the Navy. Jim's method involves holding the eggs with your hand and dipping them in every color until they come out olive green or brown. Maybe that is why I didn't have a mess today--Jim, the old salt was MIA.

You see, I never got to dye eggs when I was growing up. The Easter Bunny always did that in seclusion. The closest I ever came to actually seeing the process was when I was a child, too smart for my own good. I found a dishcloth with traces of food coloring on it. My mother being quite the clever one, explained it away as traces that the bunny had probably had to wipe his butt after laying the eggs. Now, I know that baby bunnies don't come from eggs, but Easter Bunny was SPECIAL. My childhood Easter Bunny also spoiled us with only Russel Stover's candy. Even when grown, Easter Bunny always has made a visit--he still leaves a little RS candy and Jim must have Russell Stover jelly beans---no Jelly Bellies or imitations will do.

The first year that we were married, we joined our friends Debbie and Squirrel for a special night of dying eggs for their toddler. We had dinner and some light liquid refreshments. Some of us had more than others. We were having so much fun when we ran out of hard boiled eggs---we decided to dye the rest of the raw eggs in the house. Jim and I enjoyed the egg dying so much that we dyed some at home the next day. The kit of dye came with at least a hundred tiny rub on decals. Jim again, had way too much fun and decided to decorate our woodwork on the door facing. It was a rental house---I wonder what the next renters thought.

When the children were small we always had Easter dinner for the whole family---both sides. The kids would hunt eggs. When we lived in Owensboro, there was a hole in our driveway. I am not sure if it went to China or not, but it was about 4 inches deep in diameter and held a lot of eggs. Jodi has never forgotten the year that Jonas (our nephew) dropped almost every egg in the hole!

I used to be quite crafty and one year I let Jodi and the cousins in her age range make sugar shell panorama eggs. They put little bunnies and chicks inside and we decorated the outside with piped icing---Jodi's was yellow and Kim's was purple (according to Jodi). Yes, I was a brave soul in those days. My own kids did well to get to dye eggs, let alone make sugar eggs.

The year we lived in Spottsville we had the most fun with Easter. A very special older couple with no children ( Bob and Bea Green) went to my church. We made them a special Easter Basket and waited until it was dark and sneaked it on to their front porch. We then decided we had better make sure they got it rather than one of Spottsville's many dogs. Jim knocked on the door and we ran and hid. When the door opened, we ran home. The next day during church services, Bob got up in front of church and said it was the first time in fifty plus years---but Easter Bunny had visited them. I am not sure he ever knew who EB was, but he sure enjoyed trying to figure it out. He was an avid prankster and one of the kindest and most generous men I knew. What fun!

My family is coming for Easter and I am excited. It seems just a blink of an eye since they were young and dressing them for Easter was a big deal. I remember the year that Josh had the white suit and looked like the little guy on the sitcom---"de plane---de plane". I remember lace and pearl socks and ruffled panties, pale pink and black patent leather Mary Janes, ruffled dresses, ties, and hats. Boy was I a sucker for an outfit for the kids whit a hat! I remember Jessica and Cody and Josh and Brittany all dressed for Easter. Where has the time gone??

Another memorable year was the year I decided to dye eggs with my MOP group (a social group for adults with special needs). Brittany was also a volunteer then and I think we died six dozen eggs. I boiled the eggs. We were writing their names with crayons and dying eggs, when one of the guys decided to eat one. The eggs weren't done! Sabrina, who is lucky to have an IQ of 75 was not pleased with my culinary skills. We had to reboil the eggs after they were decorated. I told Sabrina that the moral of the story was to boil the eggs longer and always check one. Sabrina said, "the moral of the story is--let me boil the eggs, next time). My time with the MOP group always teaches me something. They love unconditionally!

Easter is special because Jesus died on the cross and I am always saddened and joyous at this time of year. But it wouldn't be Easter if I didn't get to dye eggs and make Easter Baskets! I love it, love it, love it. I do miss Brittany at this time because she loves it almost as much as I do. Today she is having Easter dinner with her friends in Charleston. Some of her friends are Jewish, so I guess it will be Easter/Passover Dinner. Her friend has never died eggs, so Brittany is taking eggs to dye. She wants to share her memories of dying eggs.

Happy Easter and if I don't see you---don't forget to hide your eggs!!!

Benson Barbecues

About thirty-five years ago, Jim went to visit a friend in Wheeling, WV. He came home with an idea that he saw at his friend's house. It was a wishing well styled barbecue pit. Shortly thereafter he built THE BBQ Pit in the back yard of our first home. We had massive friends and family parties. This has continued for almost thirty-five years. We would cook and then have a party or reunion. It was very hard work for all of us. Now that we have gotten older it has become mostly cook and carry. There used to be huge amounts of beer consumed---but that has changed to mostly cokes and Diet Dr Peppers. We still have one annual barbecue with dinner afterward the week before Thanksgiving with all of our old friends. We always look forward to it as the beginning of the holidays before everyone gets busy!

He started out cooking chickens and from there it has evolved into hams, pork loins, bologna, bratwurst, sausage, beef brisket and you never know what will be next. He even had the gall to BBQ rabbits one year for Easter. There seemed to be something a little sacreligious with that. Our recipe has been a secret to most people---except our friends the Fergusons. Jim helped him build two pits as we have. One in our first back yard and the second in the house we live in. Squirrel and Debbie moved also, and had to have a new pit. Our special recipe starts with a dry rub, then a vinegar base dip to tenderize the meat and finally Benson's Own Homemade Sauce. Everyone who comes to Owensboro visits Moonlite BBQ which is only a few blocks from our house. We always have a freezer full and the only thing I buy from Moonlite is the sides.

A BBQ is kind of like a quilting bee for men. They arrive early and spend the day. Some of Jim's friends just stop by for lunch or breakfast. Bratwurst and sausage patties are cooked early and the sampling begins. Dom Assalone is notorious for standing around the pit to get the burned "fall off". They enjoy the food---but I think it is more about catching up, telling whoppers and just plain fellowship. The old stories start rolling about 10:00 AM when things get settled down.

Yesterday, Reed came to spend the day in "men's town" at the BBQ. It seems like only a blink of the eye since Reed was Josh and Jim was Lafe. You may have to think about that a little. I refer to my son as Josh in his early years and today he is the man that I try to call Lafe. When I think of the people who have gone on I remember how much they loved the BBQ, especially Jolene, who could polish off a half and Chef Jeff and his fondness for the bologna. So many fond memories. So many children who are now adults. Jim is passing the torch someday to Lafe and Squirrell is passing his torch to Brandon. Maybe Reed will be the next generation. I think we may be the only people who serve BBQ bologna as an appetizer! Stop by and we will give you a sample. IT IS THE BEST!!!

April Fool's Day

Yesterday was April Fool's Day. It was also my favorite Great Uncle Geofrey's birthday. He would have been 90 years old. He passed away two years ago. He may have been born on April Fool's Day, but, he was no one's fool. I am sure it was a great surprise to his mother. He was a late life baby. My great grandmother was 44 years old when he was born--and it may have seemed April Fool's Day to her. My grandfather, who was his older brother was 23 when he was born. My grandfather had five children, one of which was older. So, I was probably at least nine or ten before I realized he was actually my great uncle rather than my uncle.

I remember that I thought he was so cool when I was a child. He had a daughter who was a year younger than me and I would sometimes spend the night there. He was a very gentle and tenderhearted man with the bluest eyes that could fill with tears easily. I remember his HAM radio and he had friends all over the world that he would talk to. I thought that was really neat!
In his later years he transitioned his radio to conversing via e-mail. He would e-mail me until shortly before he died. He was 87 years old but he always seemed so young at heart. He sent some of the best e-mails, I ever got. I still miss seeing the WGP5 handle pop up.

One of my favorite days of the year is New Years Day and my favorite thing to do that day is to watch The Rose Bowl Parade. I remember watching my first parade in color on his TV when I was a child. He was the only person that I knew who had a color TV--I was so impressed. Uncle Geoffrey also was active in his professional association for postal employees. He loved to travel. No one else in our family did much traveling and I also thought that made him a real cosmopolitan (actually didn't know that word then). My Great Aunt Ruby Lee was a l0ving companion and always has had a giggle that makes me smile all over. I never remember either of them not seeming to adore one another.

Brittany and I took a road trip when she was home from college. We went to AR to see Josh and then to Houston to see Uncle Geoffrey and Aunt Ruby Lee and our cousins Pat and Butch. We first went to Galvaston and spent a few days. Brittany and I drove Geoffrey and Ruby Lee back to Houston. Uncle Geoffrey knew the way and was giving me directions. As we were becoming more lost--he started laughing and said---I have seen more of Houston than I have seen for years. We then knew he was thoroughly enjoying our "being accidental tourists". We had a great time!

I am glad that I had a chance to get to know him, because he was special to me. Brittany and I learned that we also loved Pat and Butch, who Brittany would not have had the chance to meet.

Motorcycle Mama???

The summer of 7th grade, one of my classmates (Gary Wolf) got a red motor scooter. Of course, the first thing my parents said was, that he would get killed on it. The first thing I did was to get a ride on it and proceded to hitch a ride as often as I could. I was hooked on motorized two wheelers. From then until I was married, I would ride with just about anyone. I was never vane enough to let my hair stop me from enjoying a ride.

Jim and I were married in 1970. Our first major purchase--before our washer and dryer was a 1971 blue Harley Davidson Sportster. You think we didn't have our priorities in order! If our children did that, we might think they were irresponsible. For the next seven years we were free as birds. We would decide to take a ride at 10:00 at night, load the bike up in the van and head for Bike Week in Daytona, or the Sunshine Nationals in Memphis, where we spent a weekend and never say a ray of sunlight.

I decided when I was young that I wanted my own bike. Jim took me to try out a 100 cc HD or something like that and I almost took down a chain link fence. He then decided that two wheels wasn't for me so he WOULD build me a three-wheeler. He started collecting parts---VW engine, fiberglass body from California (all of the neighbor kids and Jodi had a great time playing with the box) and lots and lots of chrome parts. It was a beautiful Cherry Red. When he finally finished it, I was eight and a half months pregnant and never rode it by myself. Jim says it is the only vehicle he has ever had that he didn't know how fast it would go.

Shortly after Lafe was born, Jim took me for a ride and I was terrified. My maternal instinct kicked in and I could not ride again for 20 years. In the meantime, Jim continued to collect parts and build motorcycles. Lafe asked us one time when he was about three---"where do people who don't have upstairs keep their motorcycle parts?". Jim also continued to ride regularly and to take extended bike trips with his friends. I was a lunch lady and he was a biker and we each did our own thing.

I retired in 1997 and both kids were old enough to take care of themselves. Jim put me on the bike and we rode 200 miles and it was amazing---just like the old days---no terror!! He lovingly (with help from a friend) made me a seat that I could actually be comfortable on. My friend Stella and I flew to Las Vegas and her husband Al and Jim rode out and picked us up. We rode all through the west and went to Sturgis, SD, 2,000 miles. When I got home, I told Jim it was like riding through a National Geographic Magazine. Just like the little red scooter---I was hooked again. Never underestimate a Mother's maternal instincts.

I think back from the beginning of our marriage and am happy that we had the courage to follow our dreams. I am glad that Jim always knew what he wanted and that we have been able to enjoy the golden years on the road! What a wonderful way to see, feel and smell America.

March 29

Tomorrow will be March 29,2009. It has all of the prospects of being an ordinary day. It will be Sunday and we will have a Sunday morning breakfast and will attend a special event in the afternoon. March 29, 1960 also seemed to be an ordinary day. But, it wasn't. It was a beautiful sunshiny Spring day. I went to school and after school, a group of us played softball on the school playground. We were having a wonderful time, enjoying the beginning of Spring and the end of a bad winter. All of a sudden we heard sirens and could see flashing lights. When you live in a community as small as Spottsville, you know it isn't good, because you know everyone that lives there. My children could never understand why sirens would always make me nervous, even when we moved to Owensboro and lived on the main ambulance route. It seemed like only seconds before my mother came to get me. My grandfather had just suffered a major heart attack. He was digging up a cherry tree to transplant. Cherry blossoms always remind me of him.

There had been deaths in our family of great grandparents and other extended family. Never had I suffered such a loss. That was the day that I lost my youth. I felt such an enormous loss and felt that nothing would ever be the same in my life. It wasn't. My father suffered from Post Traumatic Stress from his WWII service and was more fragile than I knew. No one called it that in those days. I never remember any of the bad times with him until my grandfather died. He never seemed to get over his death. The death of his father must have triggered the thoughts of all of the death he had seen. My father died in 1969 and I can remember very few days that weren't filled with mental anguish. He suffered severe depression and the affects from multiple medications and binge drinking. My father was a gentle man with a wonderful heart, but he could never recover from his losses. I always empathize with our young soldiers who come back from war and will never be the person who went to war.

My grandmother suffered from a terminal lung condition called Bronchiacticus. She was not only sick, but was afraid to stay alone at night. My cousin Jolene and I became the night sitters. Although we alternated nights, it seemed to me that I stayed many more nights. The length of the night seemed to be in direct proportion to her health. I thought at the time that she was old. In fact, she was the same age that I am now. She would have horrendous coughing fits and I would always think that she was dying. To this day, nighttime coughing can make me cringe.
It sounds cruel that you would put a child in that situation--but there were some great nights also and the maturity that I gained made me who I am today. I became her friend and confidant. You wouldn't believe the stories that she would tell. I sometimes think that I inherited or learned my sense of fun and curiosity from her. She taught me to drink coffee or hot tea in the morning. I had to drink something hot before I went to school. She loved to dance, a good joke and a good prank. She was a wonderful cook and she hated to iron. She loved the color lavender, a clean house, her indoor bathroom, no-iron fabric and jewelry. I don't think of her as often as I did, but when I do, I have learned to edit out those scary nights and replace them with giggles from her bed. My grandmother died 1 1/2 years after my grandfather, and I went back home at nights.

My maternal grandfather died within two years of my paternal grandfather. It seemed that death would always be a part of my life. All three of the grandparents that I have talked about died by the time they were my age. My Grandmother Heppler lived to see both of my children born and almost grown. She became my rock. Just so you will know---I plan to have Mama Heppler's genes. I'm not going anywhere. There is too much more for me to do!

Belonging

The word belonging is a very common word, used in everyday conversation. I started thinking about this word a week ago after attending my Business and Professional Women's monthly meeting.

I first asked Jim for his definition of belonging. He justs looks at me when I come up with some of my off the wall questions. Then he said---well that word means something that belongs to you, and I am sure he was thinking about his motorcycles.

I then searched the internet to find a usual definition. Here is what I found:
1. A personal item that one owns, a possession (Jim was right on the money).
2. Acceptance as a natural member or part: sense of belonging (that was where I was going with this)

There are many different types of belonging to, me. Yes, I belong to a family, yes I belong to a work group, Yes, I belong to my community and yes, I have always belonged in worthwhile organizations. What do you have to do to belong? You come into this world belonging to a family. It may not be the family that you would have chosen, but, there you are---you belong and there is nothing you have to do, to stay in a family and there is nothing you can do, to remove yourself. Oh yes, you can move away and disown them, but you still belong. Other types of belonging take some type of effort, loyalty, affiliation or dues.

When you get a job, you automatically become a member of a "work family", unless you work alone. Jim has worked alone the biggest part of his life---maybe that is why he doesn't have the need that I do, to belong. I think one of the hardest things for me to accept at retirement was that I no longer belonged to my work family. You see, for twenty-five years I had worked with approximately 75 amazing women. As each retired they were replaced. I have no idea how many there were in that span of time. They were my family. We worked hard and had some great times while we provided great meals for thousands of children. It was a noble profession and I was graced to have very noble ladies to walk with me. While working in School Food Service, I was fortunate to attain a leadership position in a state organization that made me belong to a much larger group of wonderful ladies. This leadership position then allowed me to meet women from all across the nation with many of the same ideals and goals--I belonged. I now refer to my alliances as the Food Service Mafia. I feel no fear in traveling anywhere in the continental US because, I know there is a lunch lady that I could find, if I ever needed help. Jim and I stayed in Sturgis,SD with one. I was able to get someone in Fayetteville AR to help with my son's wedding. I visited an old friend on my way home from LA. She was the state president of MS when I was president of KY. No one can take that from me. But I no longer belong to the Owensboro School Food Service Department. That was a huge loss for me.

I now work for an organization with a work family, but it will never be the same as my old one. It can't be the same because the people I work with aren't ALL ABOUT FOOD SERVICE. They are great people, but they will never help me raise my children, reach huge goals and raise me up and walk with me. I am grateful for all of their support and for a job that allows me to continue to feed children and to be a part of their work family.

I now know what I was missing after retirement---belonging! It took me a while to find it again. I looked in a lot of different avenues, even working as Executive Secretary for the state organization that I had led. I "kind of" belonged, but it would never be the same. In 2000, I decided that I still had a lot to give and was bored. I ran for Owensboro City Commissioner --and was defeated--but I did win inclusion in the community. I met a lot of people in my community that I would never have met. There were 17 people in that race and we were invited to many various community meetings to speak and debate. After the election, I became a member of several and was appointed to one very special board---Foster Care Review Board. I have since given up many of the organizations. As I was leaving FCRB the other day, one of my friends(who has volunteered everywhere) said, "this is the hardest volunteer job I have ever had". I agreed and then told her, it is the most important one that I do with the potential of saving children. I continue my membership in Business and Professional Women because they are a terrific and diverse group of strong ladies. The other volunteer work that I can't give up is my MOP group. It is a social group for special needs adults--I definitely belong there! I have fulfilled my need to belong.

The Bed

Everyone has heard the old adage, "If you make your bed, you have to lay in it".
This is my story about the bed I have made.

My bed is very easy to lay in. I make it up every day. Before Jim and I were married, we gathered together furniture for our first home from attics, basements and antique stores. While looking for chairs to go with our dining room table, I found a beautiful antique oak bedroom suit. The bed has a high flat poster at the head and a rolled foot board. It was beautiful and I loved it. It was just the kind of bed that I wanted. What I really didn't need or want was a diamond engagement ring. So, instead of a ring, I got a bed! Seemed very practical and logical to me.

When I lived in a college dorm there were two seats available--a desk chair or the bed. Rather than sitting in a straight backed hard chair, I sat on my bed for everything. I always studied, sitting cross legged on my bed. I ate on the bed and lounged there. Now that I will soon be 62 years old, I still sit in my bed to do paperwork and many crossword puzzles. I think I can safely assume that I will always do that.

Our house is an older house and my bedroom is practically in the center of the house. There are two chairs in my bedroom and most everyone who visits here on a regular basis has seen me propped on my bed and in my comfy gowns. My bed is my solace.

When Brittany lived at home, she and her friends would come in at night and crawl up in the bed with me to tell me about their adventures. Jim brings me coffee to my bed every morning(how lucky am I). We start the day having our coffee and reading the paper, he in a chair and me propped in bed. We chat with Brittany and plan our day. Many afternoons we watch the evening news and have a fresh cup of coffee before dinner in my bedroom.

When my Fibromyalgia acts up, I can always find comfort with my heated mattress cover in my bed. When I am sad, my bed brings me the comfort and solitude that I need to lick my wounds.
I really don't think a diamond ring could do that.

I also enjoy propping myself up with mounds of pillows and watching College Basketball. It is March Madness time and my bed calls me early in the evening. Jim doesn't like to watch the games, so it leaves him alone in the den. He has other things that are much more educational to watch.

So, if I am not going as fast as I can---you can find me cuddled up on my bed. I used to find this to be lazy, but now I just succumb to the comfort and blessings that my almost 40 year old bed brings. I am not sure how old it is and wonder if anyone else ever loved it the way I do. I read many home decorating books and see bedrooms that look spectacular, but I know that I could never give my bed up for the most elegant of them. Diamonds---not for me---maybe a new mattress!

Words...Mama...WORDS

Lafe was born in 1977. This phrase became a part of our household language about 1980. This was long before "a crawl" on the TV was a daily occurence. It was also about the time Lafe really wanted to learn to read. He learned very quickly that words on the bottom of the television meant a major weather event. He would come running through the house calling...words, mama, words! I would then have to hurry to the family room to find out and relay to him what was happening. From the time he was born until he and Brittany were in elementary school, we paid close attention to the weather. We had learned lessons of paying attention to the weather forecast and planning ahead. We also watched for the school closings and the end of the report always said---the Owensboro Public Schools will be IN session.

Lafe was actually born after the major snow storms of 1976. This was the snow storm to top all of the stories we had heard from the oldtimers. Snow kept building layer upon layer. I told everyone that I would write the date on the calendar, because there would be a baby boom. Little did I know, after seven years of marriage, that I wouldn't need a calendar to remember. Our best friends (Debbie and Squirrel) also would become the proud parents of a baby boy. Both boys were born on the same day. My delivery wasn't quite as easy as Debbie's--I was in excruciating pain, while Debbie merely had cramps in her cheeks from grinning.

Lafe was born in October and the following January came the blizzard. I left Owensboro with my three month old baby as the rain turned to heavy snow and white out conditions in a Volkswagon. Volkswagons' heaters only work if the car is moving. When I got to Rudy Hills there were cars sliding backwards. I turned around and returned to Owensboro. Remember there were no cell phones! I was terrified. I called my secretary and her husband came and led me home with his 4 wheel drive pick up. He took Lafe in his pumpkin seat and made tracks for me to follow. I never wanted to be in this situation again. That Spring I bought my first Subaru. I felt safe in it and now have another Subaru. I think Ican go anywhere in my Subaru because it carried my precious cargo many miles on Hwy 60.

The recent ice storm will bring stories to mind for many years. I hope some of them bring Happy memories like ours. I also hope that lessons were learned by our young people that will help keep them safe in the future.

Heartstrings

Heartstrings connect you to those you love. Actual logistic distance does not break heartstrings but a one sided continual tugging can. I am lucky that I have one of my children and my sister who lives in the same city as I do. I am even more fortunate that Brittany, who lives far away, keeps the strings tied tightly. She calls every morning and her Dad and I put the phone on speaker and have a nice visit. Even though she is 14 hours away, I know how she is feeling, what is going on in her life and usually what she is cooking for dinner. She shares her life with us. She tells me about her students and the "girls" she teaches with and I feel that I know them also. Brittany has a personality and feelings like me and I can almost read her thoughts. Today, she is putting in a fourteen hour day attending a flag competition for school. Even though she didn't want to be there, she will do her best. I have talked with her once already today and there was no whining. I am saying a little prayer that she has a good day.

Lafe and Jen moved back to Owensboro almost a year ago. Before that they lived in Arkansas. Lafe has also lived in Rhode Island and Mississippi. He is not a big talker and it was very hard to know how he was doing. I learned more from his blogging than I did by his actual conversations. For the entire time he was away, he called every Sunday night between six and six thirty. When the phone rang, I knew it was him. Lafe has always been my child that I didn't have to worry about---he has tried to always keep me from worrying by being faithful and predictable. He made sure to tighten his ties every Sunday. Since he has moved back home, I usually do Sunday night dinners. My way to make sure that we all stay in touch.

Sunday night suppers have included Jodi and Reed. Jodi used to call every day usually on her way to and from work and stop for dinner two or three other nights a week. She has become very busy lately and I am beginning to feel those strings getting much looser. Maybe that is what she needs at this point in her life. She knows that I am here and I know she will call when she needs me. Maybe this is the time that she becomes my sister and not my responsibility.

All that I know for certain is that I love them all and my heartstrings are strong and secure.

Jim

What do you call a man who is so tough on the outside and gentle and caring on the inside?
A man who rides a Harley, and can hang with the men who make little old women cringe and children's eyes light up? I call him wonderful, Santa and my husband Jim. My kids are proud to call him their father. He is such a good friend to all of his buddies and they to him. He makes friends easily and loses them rarely. He calls when they are sick or having a hard time. Sometimes he just calls to chat and chat and chat. They talk about motorcycles and anodized aluminum and dial covers and zzzzzzz.

Men talk about things and women talk about relationships and feelings. Many years ago I decided that Jim needed to be more open about his feelings and that has made him a better friend for those in need. He has always been very caring, but now he has learned to also show how much he cares.

He is the best Santa in the world!! When he is Santa---there is not anything else in the world except the child that is on his lap---the gleam in their eye and helping the parent to capture the moment. I drive the sleigh and do the front work for him. He is so soft and caring and I am so proud of him.

No one knows by looking at this robust man in his bib overalls and black t-shirts that he has the eye of an artist. He always has a project. There is definitely art in the motorcycles that he builds and his stained glass projects. He had some surgery after Santa season and has been unable to do any heavy work. He has been very intent on his stained glasss art work. He has been making stained glass crosses for those he loves. Each cross symbolizes his reverence and devotion.

He keeps me grounded and dares me to take risks(like 33 days--in a row-- on the back of a Harley last year) that bring contentment to my life. My husband has given me enough love to keep me safe and secure and enough freedom to be the person that I am. What an amazing husband he has been.

Attraction to NOLA

Preface
I should have written this at the beginning of my first BLOG. All of a sudden I have an intense desire to write the stories that keep flying around my subconscious mind. I am not sure at this point why I have this need---but I do. So, please bear with me if I tend to ramble through time,
but after all that is why this is memoirs rather than autobiography.

Now to today's subject. I was a School Food Service Director for twenty five years in Owensboro, Ky. I was placed in a job which I had no formal training when I was 24 years old. I inherited a huge responsibility for providing food for about 7,000 children and a happy and meaningful career for about 100 employees. Most of my early years were on the job training provided by wonderful ladies who were for the most part old enough to be my grandmothers. It was to be the single most life changing opportunity of my life.

The first year that I was in my position the school board gave me the opportunity to attend my first ASFSA conference in New Orleans, La. Jim and I packed and drove to New Orleans. The conference was huge and I really didn't know anyone and knew even less of what to expect. I attended the meetings and Jim and I explored New Orleans, It was quite an adventure--our first time in a large city with a parking garage. New Orleans was an exotic place to a girl from Spottsville, KY. There were gourmet restaurants everywhere and foods we had never heard of like "dirty rice". The architecture was beautifully reminiscent of the Old South. I was in love with New Orleans.

About 15 years later I attended a second ASFSA annual conference. This time I attended the conference with about a dozen of my employees. This was a time that I had become very involved with the state association and knew who I was, what to do and more importantly what I wanted to share with "my girls' and my sister. We took a 12 passenger van and our husbands helped us load it to the gills, including a roof luggage carrier. We started our trek to New Orleans , looking like the Real McCoy's on their way to California. We had a wonderful trip and again , I couldn't get enough of New Orleans or the Cafe Du Mond's famous beignets.

I retired in 1997 and as my retirement gift, my friends and employees gave me an Amtrak trip to my favorite place--New Orleans. I planned the trip to coincide with the opening of school the first fall after my retirement. I would also celebrate my 50th birthday while I was there(I hadn't truly celebrated my birthday for 25 years, since it would always be the first week of school---my busiest time). A few days before we left, Jim had a wreck on his motorcycle and broke his collar bone. He was in quite a lot of pain, but the trip was scheduled. I loved the rocking and swaying of the train, but ever shift of the train produced more pain for him. Jim couldn't really enjoy the trip and New Orleans seemed to not be the magical city that I had known. Maybe it was because I had fantasized that it was much more than it could be or maybe the city had become something different.

Last week I returned to New Orleans---no longer for the magnetic appeal---but to visit one of my best friends. The day before my 60th birthday, my very good friend's (Toni Talbott) husband died. She immediately moved to New Orleans to live with her son and his family with her only grandchildren. I have learned that I can travel alone any where I want to go and actually enjoy it. So, I decided I needed to visit her and Mardi Gras week was the perfect time to check on my old love(New Orleans) and see how she was after Katrina. The 12 hour road trip turned into 14 hours as I sat on the Slidell bridge for two hours in virtual pitch darkness, except for an occasional car who would briefly turn on their lights. I arrived at4674 Venus Street,NOLA at 9:30 on Thursday the 19th as Mardi Gras was starting to wind up. On Friday, we worked our way to the French Quarter, while we could still find parking. We had a wonderful New Orleans breakfast and the world famous Cafe Du Monde beignets---yes they are still as good as I remembered and the coffee is still as blackish purple as the first cup in the early 70's. Jim assured the waiter the first time that he needed no milk in his coffee--what a mistake! We took a carriage ride through the French Quarter--the only way to see it. As the guide was trying to give us a history lesson, I was busy snapping pictures, and Toni was left to try to be interested and polite to the guide. The city was truly "glammed up" for Mardi Gras. There were purple, gold and green beads, ribbons, balloons, sequined decorations and masks everywhere. In my younger years I would have loved to spend the day and even a night in the middle of it all and people watch--but those days have alluded me now. While on the tour I learned something that made me want to hit the side of my head like the commercial ---Gee I could've had a V-8.
NOLA is the local acronym for New Orleans LA. I had thought all along it was a suburb or a community. Toni and I talked, laughed, cried,attended a parade, had breakfast at Brennans, Tyler Perry Madea movie and lunched at her favorite Chinese restaurant. She mentioned the name of the restaurant--Happiness Five and I remembered that it was the restaurant that I had celebrated my birthday number fifty--picked for the name--Happiness Five. What a lot has happened in those 11 and a half years. Toni's son graciously gave me a tour of the ravages and aftermath of Katrina. The sadness hung heavy in my heart. This year's Mardi Gras was the best since Katrina. You can take away material possession but not the human spirit.

I could have never imagined on that first visit that I would celebrate a 25 year career, a special birthday and return there and have lunch in the same restaurant with my very special friend.
NOLA is as special to me! The Lord truly does work in mysterious ways.

What is a Family?

I was born on August 25th, 1947 (unless you go by my actual birth certificate--but that is another story). On the day that I was born my family consisted of a mother, father and two grandmothers, two grandfathers and five great grandparents. I had 4 biological aunts and four biological uncles and three aunts by marriage. On my fathers side there were 4 cousins. On my mothers side I was the one and only grandchild until my brother came along 5 and a half years later. Jackie was the apple of my life and I mothered him constantly. Needless to say I felt pretty special and was spoiled especially by my special Aunt Carole---who continues to always be there for me. Within the next six years after my birth there was a total of 10 cousins. Back in those days a play date consisted of Sunday Dinner at my grandmothers house and romping in the yard with the cousins. Today those cousins who were so close seldom see one another except at the rare wedding and less rare funeral. No grandparents are left--no parents--and only 3 biological aunts and one biological uncle. One of my biggest family losses was my cousin Jolene, who was more like a sister. She was 11 months younger than me and my mother was also her babysitter. I will talk more about Jolene in the future. This was chapter one of Family.

Chapter two begins as the second round of cousins started coming along, including my sister, Jodi who was born 21 years after me. There was an entire crop of cousins for her to share her childhood with along with second cousins. Not only was our family growing but it was also decreasing as losses occured much too frequently. It is a funny thing about families---some you are born with and others are acquired through marriage. Even my grandmother remarried and brought an entire large family into our lives.

Chapter three began when I chose a man to spend the rest of my life with and now my nuclear family included the Benson family. We now had the Benson and the Prudens and all that they brought with them. Although our marriage was in 1970---our real family began in 1977 with our beautiful baby boy, Joshua Lafe. During those 7 years that we were married without children we always had my sister who was two when we were married. We practiced parenting on her. Brittany was born in 1980 and our family was complete. In 2005 Jodi had the most beautiful child we had seen in a long time. He has been the sunshine of our life for the past 3 and a half years. We are practicing our grandparenting skills on him. In 2008 both Brittany(George Cobb) and Lafe(Jennifer Scott) were married and our family has taken on a whole new life. I think we may even become real grandparents someday and just like with my baby sister and parenting---I can't imagine it being any more special than our relationship with Reed.

My grandmother and her family were quilters and every time I think of families I think of patchwork quilts. Each person adds their own unique fabric to the family. Some people have memories that are called upon by smells, or other senses. My memories will always be reminiscent of fabrics. I was sewing doll clothes by the time I was three, I think. My grandmother always could always find me some "terial" as I used to call material. Unfortunately, I got the sewing out of my system by the last sewing course in college. I still love the fabric , but have no real desire to stitch it together. I especially love how we choose friends to become a part of our quilt of life. Just as we need winter fabric, summer fabric, fancy fabric, denim and leather---we find friends along the way that are just what we need forever or for a season. Don't ever forget the work family of friends that you share a large portion of your life with.

My definition of a family is a group of people united together by blood, chance or by choice to create satisfaction down deep in your soul.












I will talk about Jolene in the future