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.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
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!
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
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!
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!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
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.
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.
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