Well, it seems that this year is coming to a close. In so many ways, I am thankful that 2011 is over and hoping that 2012 will be much kinder to our family.
We've had a lot of major medical issues this year - and all the heartache that goes along with it. I've written about some of them, but others will just have to play out in the future. But again, I feel so blessed that I have decided to list my top ten things I am thankful for in this year of 2011.
1. I am deeply blessed to have two loving kids and their spouses who accept me with all my peculiarities and weirdness. They have proven to me time and time again, that NOTHING in this world beats out family. Nothing!
2. When so many, many people are out of work, or are struggling to pay even the minimum of bills, I am thankful to have a good job that I love. I don't make a zillion dollars, but between my salary and my husband's retirement, we get along pretty good. Medical bills - phooey! As I told a friend of mine awhile ago - they can't repossess people!
3. I am beyond blessed to work with the greatest bunch of teachers, aides and support staff in the world. That includes my principal who stands up for us teachers and bucks the system many times so we can teach the way we know we should be teaching! I've been in a job where I was not valued and where I had to watch my back every day. I love working with my Hoover people. They are there no matter what!
4. Our house is not fancy, it is not large, and it only has one bathroom. But when I think of the homeless people we saw in New York City who were living in boxes, our home is a mansion compared to that. When I come in, my home welcomes me, says to sit down, relax and rest.
5. Even with arthritis and asthma issues, I am a very healthy person. I can exercise, swim, walk, teach and work 13 hour days. So I am very blessed to be healthy enough to still ride roller coasters with my kids and grandkids!!! :) And I intend to continue doing that until they refuse to let me on the rides because I am too old and rickety!
6. Having come very close to losing my husband many times over the last 13 years, I am very lucky to still have him by my side. For years, I worried about him being shot on duty, and not coming home to us. Yet what we experienced after he had retired from being a police officer, was way worse in many ways. But we still go on, we still travel as much as we can, we make casino runs frequently, and get to spoil our granddaughters as much as possible. He is the other half of me that keeps me going.
7. I am so blessed to have special friends. Some I have been friends with for 40 some years, some half that, and others a few years. They are all precious to me. We may not always get to see each other a lot, or go to lunch or just visit, but when we do, the year and months roll back and it is like yesterday.
8. My next blessing is that I still have my sister and my brother and their spouses in my life. Time spent with them is precious. I will be blogging more about them in the future - so for now, I am so thankful that I get to spend as much time with them as I do.
9. For whatever reason, I am blessed to have a stubborn streak a mile wide, that makes me strong enough to handle whatever life throws at me. My kids think I stood in line twice when God gave out stubborness - and they could be right. But being stubborn and unwilling to give in has kept me going when I thought I couldn't take one more step in any direction. Life tests us and we never know for sure how strong we are until life smacks us in the face!
10. Last, but not least, I am so glad I live in America. I have been reading a LOT of hate posts on FB lately, about our current president, and our government et al. The posts really bother me - not because they disagree with Washington, but because of the hate and the warped reasoning behind that hate. We may not be perfect, we may have flawed health care, flawed banking, flawed thinking in our Congress, but we still live in the most free, best nation on earth. Why do you think so many millions of people want to live here, and sneak across our borders to be in America???? It may not be perfect, but it beats most other countries by miles.
Peace and love to all of you in 2012.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
Promises to keep
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost -
Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. Pinky swear. Swear on a stack of Bibles. Swear on my mother's grave.
I have heard these types of promises for years from my students, and I get tickled knowing that they fully intend to keep that promise - until wham, something happens they didn't plan on and that poor promise is bashed into tiny pieces! My students have called me on promises I made in a hurry, with the pouty face, and whining voice, "But Mrs. B., you promised!" Trust me - they keep me on my toes and I think twice before I make a promise to them, cause they will REMEMBER forever!
Promises may be world shaking, or it may be just a tiny bump in the road of life. I've been thinking a lot about promises lately - having been on the receiving end of broken promises that nearly cut my heart in pieces. I have also made promises that I have done my best to keep.
The first very important promise that popped into my head is the one when loving, dreamy eyed couples make promises to each other on their wedding day. I love both the traditional promise ceremony, but I also really enjoy hearing promises/vows that the couple has written themselves. I expect that during that first glow of wedded life with the person who is your soul mate, those promises made that wedding day are easy to keep.
Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her/him, forsaking all others and holding only unto her/him?" ("I do")
The promise to love one another till death is made so easily in the early rosy glow of marriage, when most couples have no real idea of how that love will be tested over the years. Honor him/her - respect your loved one, treat them with dignity, and make your life one that they can look upon with pride. Cherish him/her - that promise is not necessarily to treat your spouse like a china figurine that could be broken in an instant, but to always stand by them because they are special to you. Protect him/her - that promise might be a tad easier for the male species who deem it their nature to "protect" their wife (insert image of gorilla beating his chest). Protection can be physical - keeping them from getting physically hurt, but it could be emotional such as being there to protect their loved one from being emotionally beaten up by family members, so called friends and even employers. But I am here to tell you that you don't ever want to get in the way of a woman and someone that she promised to protect. It makes a gorilla look like a lady bug. When we promise to protect someone we love, that is it - no ifs, ands, or buts.
In sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, until death do us part.
I promised this during our wedding ceremony as did my husband. Little did we know that a promise made that day would someday hit us head on - particularly the one about health. Who knew that someday, my husband would be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life (in sickness and in health); who knew that MANY, MANY times we would be scrounging for money to pay medical bills, or buy the kids some clothes or put food on the table, only to go through it all over again a few years down the road. (for richer, for poorer). And yet that most important promise made on their wedding day is one of the first to be broken. Financial hardships come, spouse runs, breaks promise. Sickness comes, spouse leaves and breaks promise. Mental disability comes, people run as fast as they can, rather than honor that promise. And in those instances, that promise is broken so badly, it can never, ever be repaired exactly like it was before. Sometimes you can't fix what has already been broken so badly.
So what drives us to make such promises in the first place? We can't see into the future (not sure I'd want to anyway). So if we don't know what is coming, why in the world do we make such HUGE and broad promises that you have no earthly idea if you can keep? We all are sincere when we make a promise - either at a wedding to our spouse, or in our day to day life. There are big promises and little bitty promises, to others, to friends, to family and to self. And in spite of the fact that the odds are about 1,000,000 to one that we will keep every single promise we make, people keep right on making promises because that is what makes us human. We don't want bad and hurtful things to happen to the people we love - so we make a promise.
I've heard it said that promises are meant to be broken. Maybe, maybe not. I think that a person who makes a promise does so with every sincere intention on following through with that promise. Sometimes, life just flat gets in the way of fulfilling that promise. I am sure that the promise that was made to me and broken was given with a sincere heart - but that didn't make it any less painful when that promise was beaten to a pulp!
To end, I will reveal the promise that has been broken so many times, it is sawdust! I promise to love, honor and obey. Whatever! I have loved him, and I have honored him, but in no way, whatsoever did I say I would obey him. Of course my loving spouse says that I did just that, and we have tossed that back and forth for 41 years causing both of us to be hysterical with laughter over and over!
Make your promises with love in your heart, do the best you can to keep those promises, but understand, some will be broken into pieces, some will be kept, and some will break a little and be repaired. That is just how life is.
Song from George Strait:
Our love is unconditional, we knew it from the start.
I see it in your eyes, you can feel it from my heart.
From here on after let's stay the way we are right now,
And share all the love and laughter
That a lifetime will allow.
I cross my heart and promise to
Give all I've got to give to make all your dreams come true.
In all the world you'll never find a love as true as mine.
You will always be the miracle that makes my life complete,
And as long as there's a breath in me, I'll make yours just as sweet.
As we look into the future, it's as far as we can see,
So let's make each tomorrow be the best that it can be.
I cross my heart and promise to
Give all I've got to give to make all your dreams come true.
In all the world you'll never find a love as true as mine.
And if along the way we find a day it starts to storm,
You've got the promise of my love to keep you warm.
In all the world you'll never find a love as true as mine,
A love as true as mine.
Thanks George, couldn't have said it better!
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost -
Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. Pinky swear. Swear on a stack of Bibles. Swear on my mother's grave.
I have heard these types of promises for years from my students, and I get tickled knowing that they fully intend to keep that promise - until wham, something happens they didn't plan on and that poor promise is bashed into tiny pieces! My students have called me on promises I made in a hurry, with the pouty face, and whining voice, "But Mrs. B., you promised!" Trust me - they keep me on my toes and I think twice before I make a promise to them, cause they will REMEMBER forever!
Promises may be world shaking, or it may be just a tiny bump in the road of life. I've been thinking a lot about promises lately - having been on the receiving end of broken promises that nearly cut my heart in pieces. I have also made promises that I have done my best to keep.
The first very important promise that popped into my head is the one when loving, dreamy eyed couples make promises to each other on their wedding day. I love both the traditional promise ceremony, but I also really enjoy hearing promises/vows that the couple has written themselves. I expect that during that first glow of wedded life with the person who is your soul mate, those promises made that wedding day are easy to keep.
Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her/him, forsaking all others and holding only unto her/him?" ("I do")
The promise to love one another till death is made so easily in the early rosy glow of marriage, when most couples have no real idea of how that love will be tested over the years. Honor him/her - respect your loved one, treat them with dignity, and make your life one that they can look upon with pride. Cherish him/her - that promise is not necessarily to treat your spouse like a china figurine that could be broken in an instant, but to always stand by them because they are special to you. Protect him/her - that promise might be a tad easier for the male species who deem it their nature to "protect" their wife (insert image of gorilla beating his chest). Protection can be physical - keeping them from getting physically hurt, but it could be emotional such as being there to protect their loved one from being emotionally beaten up by family members, so called friends and even employers. But I am here to tell you that you don't ever want to get in the way of a woman and someone that she promised to protect. It makes a gorilla look like a lady bug. When we promise to protect someone we love, that is it - no ifs, ands, or buts.
In sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, until death do us part.
I promised this during our wedding ceremony as did my husband. Little did we know that a promise made that day would someday hit us head on - particularly the one about health. Who knew that someday, my husband would be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life (in sickness and in health); who knew that MANY, MANY times we would be scrounging for money to pay medical bills, or buy the kids some clothes or put food on the table, only to go through it all over again a few years down the road. (for richer, for poorer). And yet that most important promise made on their wedding day is one of the first to be broken. Financial hardships come, spouse runs, breaks promise. Sickness comes, spouse leaves and breaks promise. Mental disability comes, people run as fast as they can, rather than honor that promise. And in those instances, that promise is broken so badly, it can never, ever be repaired exactly like it was before. Sometimes you can't fix what has already been broken so badly.
So what drives us to make such promises in the first place? We can't see into the future (not sure I'd want to anyway). So if we don't know what is coming, why in the world do we make such HUGE and broad promises that you have no earthly idea if you can keep? We all are sincere when we make a promise - either at a wedding to our spouse, or in our day to day life. There are big promises and little bitty promises, to others, to friends, to family and to self. And in spite of the fact that the odds are about 1,000,000 to one that we will keep every single promise we make, people keep right on making promises because that is what makes us human. We don't want bad and hurtful things to happen to the people we love - so we make a promise.
I've heard it said that promises are meant to be broken. Maybe, maybe not. I think that a person who makes a promise does so with every sincere intention on following through with that promise. Sometimes, life just flat gets in the way of fulfilling that promise. I am sure that the promise that was made to me and broken was given with a sincere heart - but that didn't make it any less painful when that promise was beaten to a pulp!
To end, I will reveal the promise that has been broken so many times, it is sawdust! I promise to love, honor and obey. Whatever! I have loved him, and I have honored him, but in no way, whatsoever did I say I would obey him. Of course my loving spouse says that I did just that, and we have tossed that back and forth for 41 years causing both of us to be hysterical with laughter over and over!
Make your promises with love in your heart, do the best you can to keep those promises, but understand, some will be broken into pieces, some will be kept, and some will break a little and be repaired. That is just how life is.
Song from George Strait:
Our love is unconditional, we knew it from the start.
I see it in your eyes, you can feel it from my heart.
From here on after let's stay the way we are right now,
And share all the love and laughter
That a lifetime will allow.
I cross my heart and promise to
Give all I've got to give to make all your dreams come true.
In all the world you'll never find a love as true as mine.
You will always be the miracle that makes my life complete,
And as long as there's a breath in me, I'll make yours just as sweet.
As we look into the future, it's as far as we can see,
So let's make each tomorrow be the best that it can be.
I cross my heart and promise to
Give all I've got to give to make all your dreams come true.
In all the world you'll never find a love as true as mine.
And if along the way we find a day it starts to storm,
You've got the promise of my love to keep you warm.
In all the world you'll never find a love as true as mine,
A love as true as mine.
Thanks George, couldn't have said it better!
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Traditions and gags - the sequal
I guess I am a prankster at heart and I thoroughly enjoy pulling jokes on my family and my students. Students get a kick out of it and sometimes they retaliate. I remember one year I was trying desperately not to drink so much Dr. Pepper - because I knew it wasn't good for me. But every day, I'd go get one and have it sitting around the classroom. My kids knew I was trying to get off it, so sometime during the day, my Dr. Pepper would mysteriously disappear. I'd come in, notice it was gone and start laughing and hunting! They would be in hysterics by the time I found it. One time, I didn't find it until after school was out. They were very much pleased with themselves that time!
The first prank that I can remember playing on my son in law was when they still lived in Ponca City. Their Wal-mart at Christmas would put out these tiny bottles of IBC rootbeer- about 8 ounces I thnk. I loved IBC rootbeer so when we would visit, I'd help myself to Danny's tiny bottles. He used to harrass me unmercifully about how when I came, he didn't have anymore rootbeer because I drank it all. So one time when we went over to eat with them, I bought a pack of IBC little bottles. I slipped into his room, and hid them in his pillowcase of his pillow, pulled the covers up all nice and neat and left. The next day April called and was laughing so hard she could hardly talk. She said Danny usually got in bed, and just flopped his head down on his pillow. For some reason, he decided to pat his pillow into place that night and discovered the IBC bottles. He laughed until he fell out of bed. BUT like April said, it is a good thing he didn't just hop in bed and flop onto his pillow like he usually did or I'd have been guilty of causing my son in law a concussion!
Danny was hard to buy for - not because he was picky, but because he was content with what he had and didn't ask for much. I started giving him money to spend on lunches etc. I bought this really cool puzzle made out of plastic that holds money. You slip the money into the puzzle, and the receiver has to figure out how to get the money out. That man took exactly 10 seconds to get that money out of that puzzle. The funniest part of that gag was the look on my face when he did it so fast.
Two other times involved toilet paper. I unrolled a whole roll of toilet paper, and taped dollar bills end to end to the roll, and then rolled it all up neatly and wrapped it. He loved it! I saw a lady at a craft show that somehow embroidered a Christmas scene and a personalized name on the first sheet or two of the toilet paper roll. They were beautiful, and he loved that one. As far as I know, he still has that one.
I remember doing something to his socks, but that memory is kind of fuzzy. But my greatest prank of all time involved their swimming pool and money. In AZ, it actually does get cold during the winter and the swimming pool water is freezing! So I got an empty baby wipe box, wrapped a clue in a zip lock bag (like a treasure hunt) and put it in the box. I poured plaster of paris over it and let it harden. I wrapped it up so pretty! When he opened it, he laughed and laughed, and proceeded to break tiny pieces of the plaster off with a tiny hammer. When he saw all of us laughing hysterically, he realized that the present wasn't in the plaster, took a huge hammer, whammed it into a million pieces and got the clue.
This involved the girls because they were learning to read. So daddy had to answer their trivia questions they read to him before they would read him the next clue. This clue took him to the swimming pool. Now flashback to April and I preparing this part of the gag. I wrapped his money in several zip lock bags so it wouldn't get wet. Then I put that in a cottage cheese container with a couple of rocks, put that in a ziplock bag and tossed it into the deep in of the pool. April and I stood there with our mouths open, not believing it - that stupid carton FLOATED! We were laughing so hard we could barely talk- but we got their pool net, pulled the carton out and filled that it to the top with rocks, sealed it and tossed it into the pool. This time it sank to the bottom of the deep end just like I planned. Danny read the clue, went flying into the pool area, saw the carton and stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn't figure out if he wanted to dive into the freezing water and get his package or what. Finally, he got the pool net and started fishing for his present! By this time, we are all laughing hysterically because the package kept scooting away across the bottom of the pool. He'd go to one side, try it, and it would scoot. He'd run back to the other side, and try it again. Finally, he got it out, and had to sit down on the side of the pool to open it. It was so much fun, and so hysterically funny!
Of course, that called for major retaliation - and let's just say that one of his gag gifts to me was an item of female clothing that I swore on a stack of Bibles that I would never, ever, ever have on my body. When I opened the gift and realized what it was, I stuck it behind my back, and my face was as red as a tomato. I think by this time both Danny and April were on the floor laughing! I laughed and laughed and laughed but I did not wear that item of clothing. Nuff said!
So Merry Christmas again, and may your Christmas be filled with laughter. That is what makes our life here on earth bearable in times that nothing seems to be going right. Laughter, love and joy to you.
The first prank that I can remember playing on my son in law was when they still lived in Ponca City. Their Wal-mart at Christmas would put out these tiny bottles of IBC rootbeer- about 8 ounces I thnk. I loved IBC rootbeer so when we would visit, I'd help myself to Danny's tiny bottles. He used to harrass me unmercifully about how when I came, he didn't have anymore rootbeer because I drank it all. So one time when we went over to eat with them, I bought a pack of IBC little bottles. I slipped into his room, and hid them in his pillowcase of his pillow, pulled the covers up all nice and neat and left. The next day April called and was laughing so hard she could hardly talk. She said Danny usually got in bed, and just flopped his head down on his pillow. For some reason, he decided to pat his pillow into place that night and discovered the IBC bottles. He laughed until he fell out of bed. BUT like April said, it is a good thing he didn't just hop in bed and flop onto his pillow like he usually did or I'd have been guilty of causing my son in law a concussion!
Danny was hard to buy for - not because he was picky, but because he was content with what he had and didn't ask for much. I started giving him money to spend on lunches etc. I bought this really cool puzzle made out of plastic that holds money. You slip the money into the puzzle, and the receiver has to figure out how to get the money out. That man took exactly 10 seconds to get that money out of that puzzle. The funniest part of that gag was the look on my face when he did it so fast.
Two other times involved toilet paper. I unrolled a whole roll of toilet paper, and taped dollar bills end to end to the roll, and then rolled it all up neatly and wrapped it. He loved it! I saw a lady at a craft show that somehow embroidered a Christmas scene and a personalized name on the first sheet or two of the toilet paper roll. They were beautiful, and he loved that one. As far as I know, he still has that one.
I remember doing something to his socks, but that memory is kind of fuzzy. But my greatest prank of all time involved their swimming pool and money. In AZ, it actually does get cold during the winter and the swimming pool water is freezing! So I got an empty baby wipe box, wrapped a clue in a zip lock bag (like a treasure hunt) and put it in the box. I poured plaster of paris over it and let it harden. I wrapped it up so pretty! When he opened it, he laughed and laughed, and proceeded to break tiny pieces of the plaster off with a tiny hammer. When he saw all of us laughing hysterically, he realized that the present wasn't in the plaster, took a huge hammer, whammed it into a million pieces and got the clue.
This involved the girls because they were learning to read. So daddy had to answer their trivia questions they read to him before they would read him the next clue. This clue took him to the swimming pool. Now flashback to April and I preparing this part of the gag. I wrapped his money in several zip lock bags so it wouldn't get wet. Then I put that in a cottage cheese container with a couple of rocks, put that in a ziplock bag and tossed it into the deep in of the pool. April and I stood there with our mouths open, not believing it - that stupid carton FLOATED! We were laughing so hard we could barely talk- but we got their pool net, pulled the carton out and filled that it to the top with rocks, sealed it and tossed it into the pool. This time it sank to the bottom of the deep end just like I planned. Danny read the clue, went flying into the pool area, saw the carton and stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn't figure out if he wanted to dive into the freezing water and get his package or what. Finally, he got the pool net and started fishing for his present! By this time, we are all laughing hysterically because the package kept scooting away across the bottom of the pool. He'd go to one side, try it, and it would scoot. He'd run back to the other side, and try it again. Finally, he got it out, and had to sit down on the side of the pool to open it. It was so much fun, and so hysterically funny!
Of course, that called for major retaliation - and let's just say that one of his gag gifts to me was an item of female clothing that I swore on a stack of Bibles that I would never, ever, ever have on my body. When I opened the gift and realized what it was, I stuck it behind my back, and my face was as red as a tomato. I think by this time both Danny and April were on the floor laughing! I laughed and laughed and laughed but I did not wear that item of clothing. Nuff said!
So Merry Christmas again, and may your Christmas be filled with laughter. That is what makes our life here on earth bearable in times that nothing seems to be going right. Laughter, love and joy to you.
Cherished Christmas Traditions
Traditions, Traditions, Traditions. - cue Fiddler on the Roof Music. It is Christmas season, when a whole lot of people have a whole lot of traditions. Old ones that families cherish and repeat every year, and the opportunity to create new traditions to hand down to later generations.
One of the things we (my teaching partner and I) like to have our students write about is their Christmas traditions in their family. Both my teaching partner and I thought that would be an excellent writing prompt, and would be easy. We no longer have students write on that prompt! Our reason? The students would look at us with totally blank faces when we talked about traditions. We would teach and teach and brainstorm, but we would still get half a class of blank faces. We finally quit using that prompt because for whatever reason, families don't seem to have a lot of traditions anymore - at least where I teach. It really saddened me because traditions in our family are precious. I'm not sure why families aren't creating those traditions like I grew up with - could be the economy, maybe because families are rushed to get the basics done and survive. Maybe because our students are only 10 and 11 and haven't lived enough years to have many traditions with their family. It made me wonder what traditions other families have with their families. I'd love to hear some comments and traditions from others, as I share a few of our traditions with you.
Our family is scattered all over the US. Some in Washington State, some in Kansas, Arizona, Nebraska, and other states. It was really difficult to get us all together at one time to celebrate Christmas. So one of the traditions stems from that difficulty - wanting our family to be with us in spirit, if not in body. So on Christmas eve, the four of us (hubby, me, daughter and son) would open a bottle of sparkling apple cider to make toasts. We used the very best stemware crystal we had (even tho most of them came from Arbys!) and we all got a glass of cider. Then we would take turns toasting our family scattered around the US with a Christmas/New Year wish for them. After each wish or toast, we would clink glasses and take a sip. It was a very special Christmas tradition that brought our family closer in spirit on Christmas eve.
Another Christmas tradition is kids opening one present on Christmas eve. It could be stuffed animals, pajamas, a toy or something small - just to ease the agony of waiting to open those presents on Christmas morning. Of course, opening that one present sent them into orbit, so getting them to bed after that was gorilla warfare!
When we open our presents on Christmas morning, we take turns. One person at a time opens a present so we can all see and hear their reaction. That made it double special - for the giver as well as the receiver. Sometimes it took a LONG time to get them all opened, but we got to enjoy the surprise and happiness of every single person as they opened their gift. And prank gifts were the very best - with the giver holding their breath, knowing what was coming, waiting for the belly laughs they knew they'd get!
The next tradition I mention, is sort of odd! I HATE, HATE, HATE wrapping presents! I don't/didn't/ will never like buying all that expensive paper, spending hours wrapping presents and putting on bows - to have it all ripped to shreds in minutes on Christmas day. So I decided enough was enough around 1980ish. I waited until Christmas material went on sale at 75% off, then I bought yards of all different colors and designs. As I had time over that winter, I would sew up Christmas gift bags. Big ones, little ones, skinny ones, tiny ones, and couple of HUMONGOUS ones! I made a hem (like in a curtain) that I could put a ribbon through, draw it up, and tie the present shut. Kids loved them, I loved them, husband loved that he didn't have bags of trash to take to the curb. We have used those cloth bags for years and years and now the grandkids are getting their presents in those very same cloth bags. We have recycled them for 30 some years. It is a tradition that makes perfect environmental sense today!
Another weird tradition started when the kids were about 8 and 9. After the presents were opened and played with, there was always kind of a let down. We all kind of wandered around the house in a daze. One year, Popeye was showing at the local theater, and we knew the kids were dying to see it. So we bought tickets and went to the movies on Christmas day. Not very many people there and we had an absolute ball! We continued that tradition for years with a different movie each year.
I also didn't want to spend my entire day cooking Christmas dinner and then the rest of the day washing and cleaning up the mess. We always got lots of goodies from friends and neighbors during the Christmas season that never seemed to get eaten. So our Christmas dinner evolved into putting all the goodies out we had gotten, and adding our favorite junk food snacks - Rotel Cheese dip, sausage balls, all kinds of cookies and candy, chips, nachoes - you name it! I always made a huge raw veggie tray with dip so we could sort of balance the junk stuff! The kids absolutely loved it - they could nibble all day. There was hardly any cooking to do, very little clean up, and calories didn't count that day - so I loved it. Add an adult beverage, a football game and my hubby thought he was in heaven!
Several years ago, my son in law and I got into a Christmas contest to get a prank/gag gift for each other. I had started pulling tricks on him years before that, and I guess that evolved into Christmas gags. Some of the things he has come up with for me were so hysterically funny, I laughed until I had tears streaming down my face. Having heard him complain and whine about the fact that with 4 females in the house, he was always going to the store for toilet paper, I knew what that year's gift would be. I bought him the biggest package of toilet paper I could find and put a bow on it. I think it had 40 rolls in it or something like that. He almost fell off the couch laughing. I had other ones that were even better, but that will have to be a whole other blog!
I could write pages and pages about Christmas traditions from the time I was a little girl to the present. But I would rather close now, and hopefully, hear about traditions from others who read this blog. Merry Christmas to all, and may the next year be filled with joy, peace and love.
One of the things we (my teaching partner and I) like to have our students write about is their Christmas traditions in their family. Both my teaching partner and I thought that would be an excellent writing prompt, and would be easy. We no longer have students write on that prompt! Our reason? The students would look at us with totally blank faces when we talked about traditions. We would teach and teach and brainstorm, but we would still get half a class of blank faces. We finally quit using that prompt because for whatever reason, families don't seem to have a lot of traditions anymore - at least where I teach. It really saddened me because traditions in our family are precious. I'm not sure why families aren't creating those traditions like I grew up with - could be the economy, maybe because families are rushed to get the basics done and survive. Maybe because our students are only 10 and 11 and haven't lived enough years to have many traditions with their family. It made me wonder what traditions other families have with their families. I'd love to hear some comments and traditions from others, as I share a few of our traditions with you.
Our family is scattered all over the US. Some in Washington State, some in Kansas, Arizona, Nebraska, and other states. It was really difficult to get us all together at one time to celebrate Christmas. So one of the traditions stems from that difficulty - wanting our family to be with us in spirit, if not in body. So on Christmas eve, the four of us (hubby, me, daughter and son) would open a bottle of sparkling apple cider to make toasts. We used the very best stemware crystal we had (even tho most of them came from Arbys!) and we all got a glass of cider. Then we would take turns toasting our family scattered around the US with a Christmas/New Year wish for them. After each wish or toast, we would clink glasses and take a sip. It was a very special Christmas tradition that brought our family closer in spirit on Christmas eve.
Another Christmas tradition is kids opening one present on Christmas eve. It could be stuffed animals, pajamas, a toy or something small - just to ease the agony of waiting to open those presents on Christmas morning. Of course, opening that one present sent them into orbit, so getting them to bed after that was gorilla warfare!
When we open our presents on Christmas morning, we take turns. One person at a time opens a present so we can all see and hear their reaction. That made it double special - for the giver as well as the receiver. Sometimes it took a LONG time to get them all opened, but we got to enjoy the surprise and happiness of every single person as they opened their gift. And prank gifts were the very best - with the giver holding their breath, knowing what was coming, waiting for the belly laughs they knew they'd get!
The next tradition I mention, is sort of odd! I HATE, HATE, HATE wrapping presents! I don't/didn't/ will never like buying all that expensive paper, spending hours wrapping presents and putting on bows - to have it all ripped to shreds in minutes on Christmas day. So I decided enough was enough around 1980ish. I waited until Christmas material went on sale at 75% off, then I bought yards of all different colors and designs. As I had time over that winter, I would sew up Christmas gift bags. Big ones, little ones, skinny ones, tiny ones, and couple of HUMONGOUS ones! I made a hem (like in a curtain) that I could put a ribbon through, draw it up, and tie the present shut. Kids loved them, I loved them, husband loved that he didn't have bags of trash to take to the curb. We have used those cloth bags for years and years and now the grandkids are getting their presents in those very same cloth bags. We have recycled them for 30 some years. It is a tradition that makes perfect environmental sense today!
Another weird tradition started when the kids were about 8 and 9. After the presents were opened and played with, there was always kind of a let down. We all kind of wandered around the house in a daze. One year, Popeye was showing at the local theater, and we knew the kids were dying to see it. So we bought tickets and went to the movies on Christmas day. Not very many people there and we had an absolute ball! We continued that tradition for years with a different movie each year.
I also didn't want to spend my entire day cooking Christmas dinner and then the rest of the day washing and cleaning up the mess. We always got lots of goodies from friends and neighbors during the Christmas season that never seemed to get eaten. So our Christmas dinner evolved into putting all the goodies out we had gotten, and adding our favorite junk food snacks - Rotel Cheese dip, sausage balls, all kinds of cookies and candy, chips, nachoes - you name it! I always made a huge raw veggie tray with dip so we could sort of balance the junk stuff! The kids absolutely loved it - they could nibble all day. There was hardly any cooking to do, very little clean up, and calories didn't count that day - so I loved it. Add an adult beverage, a football game and my hubby thought he was in heaven!
Several years ago, my son in law and I got into a Christmas contest to get a prank/gag gift for each other. I had started pulling tricks on him years before that, and I guess that evolved into Christmas gags. Some of the things he has come up with for me were so hysterically funny, I laughed until I had tears streaming down my face. Having heard him complain and whine about the fact that with 4 females in the house, he was always going to the store for toilet paper, I knew what that year's gift would be. I bought him the biggest package of toilet paper I could find and put a bow on it. I think it had 40 rolls in it or something like that. He almost fell off the couch laughing. I had other ones that were even better, but that will have to be a whole other blog!
I could write pages and pages about Christmas traditions from the time I was a little girl to the present. But I would rather close now, and hopefully, hear about traditions from others who read this blog. Merry Christmas to all, and may the next year be filled with joy, peace and love.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Decisions and their effect
Today must be a good day for decisions. Before I even got out of bed this morning, I had made a couple of decisions that I had been putting off. One made me a little leery, one made my husband extremely happy (he gets a Christmas present he wanted). For us, there are many decisions looming on the horizon that will affect us in many ways. Even though you make the decision, and you THINK you know what will happen - life often laughs in your face - and you get a totally unexpected result.
One of the things I was thinking about this morning was retirement. I want so very much to retire after another year of teaching. Physically, I am not sure my body can take many more years of 13 hour days, and the energy it takes to actively teach for 7 hours straight. But immediately upon that thought was the absolute certainty that if I do retire, we will starve! Watching the prices of every single thing in the US go sky high gives me the willies! I don't expect inflation to stop anytime soon, and retirement would mean almost 1/2 of our income being cut - so probably won't get to retire when I want to. I kid my fellow teachers that they will be wheeling me in on a gurney when I'm 80 to teach!
I started into teaching late after my family was raised. Went to collge, got my degree and got a teaching job. Sometimes the thought flows through my head when I think of retirement, and I wish I had done this years and years earlier. Probably, my retirement salary would have been enough by now to retire. But within seconds of that wishful thinking, comes a strong sense of what I would have missed had I made that decision when I was 19 to finish college and get a degree.
First off, I can almost guarantee I would not be a teacher. I was a typical 19 year old, not really sure what I wanted to do with my life. I went to college for one year at Alva, OK, met the love of my life, got married, moved and proceeded to live my life. I got good grades, but I had no real direction that I was aiming for. I may have gotten a degree that would have been worthless. It was only after having my family, and seeing some of the fabulous teachers my children had growing up, that the urge to teach began to haunt me. It is truly in my soul, and although it is back breaking, and sometime heartbreaking work, I am blessed for having made the right decision that led me to getting a teaching degree at 43 years old.
Then I got to thinking about what that decision I made to marry at 19 led me to. My first job after marriage was at DHS. Lots of typing, and lots of seeing the poverty that many families lived in. It made me extremely grateful on a daily basis for what I had.
Other jobs that came my way seemed to fit whatever circumstances we were in. When the kids were little and I didn't want them to have to be in daycare, I babysat, made crafts at home and sold them, and sold tupperware when my husband was on the right shift to babysit. All of those jobs gave me a little more knowledge in many different ways. Finances, more experience with children, learning I did have some craftiness in my body :) and learning to juggle raising children and my job - but without having to haul the kids to daycare every day. I worked as an inspector at the elections - and that worked when my kids were older because the elections weren't very often. I got a job cleaning trash at a drivein theater. Lots of knowledge there - and the kids got to earn their very first job money helping me in the mornings. I learned that regardless of the job, you do your best. I cleaned the inside of the concession stand and learned a LOT about getting popcorn grease off the floor, and cleaning restrooms (YUCK). The funny thing about that job, is that recycling paid really, really good then. We couldn't afford a bicycle for our son, but thanks to picking up cans and bottles that people brought and threw out at the drivein - we made enough money one summer by recycling to pay for a bicycle for him. Not bad! I even learned about nature - because Kildare birds would make their nests in the gravel. The kids were always hunting to find their nests, because they were really camouflouged. We looked up information about Kildeer, and the kids got a nature lesson.
Then a brand new program was implemented in the Juvenile Department. I was hired as secretary to the Restitution Program - where teens who have done damage pay off the bill. We helped them get hired by companies, etc. I was only secretary for a few months, and then the Restitution Officer quit, and they moved me into the position. All of a sudden, I was meeting with perspective employers (and I was about as shy as they come in those days), learning how to business talk correctly, and match kids with jobs. I had to apply for the grant every year, and manage every bit of money - including figuring out how much social security money, state withholding and federal withholding to keep out of my check. I did hire a secretary for a month or so, and she moved. So I did it all. To get the grant each year, because the total grant money was smaller each year, I had to present my program to a board, tell them WHY I should be the program that got the money that year, instead of someplace else in OK. To say I was terrified is the understatement of the year. Talking in front of a group was something I was beyond terrified to do. But I did it, I learned and I truly think that experience helped me when I became a teacher.
Eventually, the grant was empty, and I was hired to become an Assistant Juvenile Officer. I learned all about court stuff, even had to testify on occasion. I was dropped into the darker side of child abuse and molestation - and took away the innocence that I had. I KNEW things like that happened, but until you have witnessed the aftereffects, and typed the details for court - you really don't know. I learned pages after pages of laws as to what we could charge kids with. I learned to work under a deadline - or an abused child would go back to their abusive family. 24 hours is a really tight deadline, and sometimes I would be typing the petition up hours before the child would have gone back to that horrible family.
Sounds like I wrote a resume! But the decision to marry, have children, and move 200 miles away from my little hometown, shaped my life. It got me to where I am today. So although I would love to have a bigger retirement from teaching more years, those experience in between shaped me and made me who I am today - for better or worse!
AND my last word on this - I would never, ever have changed those experineces and the chance to spend more time with my kids, including the last few years of high school when I didn't have a job at all due to my health. I treasure the lunch times when they came flying in the door, I fed them, we chattered and they went flying back out to school. I never knew who they would bring home for lunch, so I always made plenty. I got to meet an exchange student from the Netherlands and one from Turkey - as well as see their close friends on a regular basis.
Decisions don't always turn out how we expect. But years later, those decisions are what shapes our life and make us who we are.
Peace and love to all.
One of the things I was thinking about this morning was retirement. I want so very much to retire after another year of teaching. Physically, I am not sure my body can take many more years of 13 hour days, and the energy it takes to actively teach for 7 hours straight. But immediately upon that thought was the absolute certainty that if I do retire, we will starve! Watching the prices of every single thing in the US go sky high gives me the willies! I don't expect inflation to stop anytime soon, and retirement would mean almost 1/2 of our income being cut - so probably won't get to retire when I want to. I kid my fellow teachers that they will be wheeling me in on a gurney when I'm 80 to teach!
I started into teaching late after my family was raised. Went to collge, got my degree and got a teaching job. Sometimes the thought flows through my head when I think of retirement, and I wish I had done this years and years earlier. Probably, my retirement salary would have been enough by now to retire. But within seconds of that wishful thinking, comes a strong sense of what I would have missed had I made that decision when I was 19 to finish college and get a degree.
First off, I can almost guarantee I would not be a teacher. I was a typical 19 year old, not really sure what I wanted to do with my life. I went to college for one year at Alva, OK, met the love of my life, got married, moved and proceeded to live my life. I got good grades, but I had no real direction that I was aiming for. I may have gotten a degree that would have been worthless. It was only after having my family, and seeing some of the fabulous teachers my children had growing up, that the urge to teach began to haunt me. It is truly in my soul, and although it is back breaking, and sometime heartbreaking work, I am blessed for having made the right decision that led me to getting a teaching degree at 43 years old.
Then I got to thinking about what that decision I made to marry at 19 led me to. My first job after marriage was at DHS. Lots of typing, and lots of seeing the poverty that many families lived in. It made me extremely grateful on a daily basis for what I had.
Other jobs that came my way seemed to fit whatever circumstances we were in. When the kids were little and I didn't want them to have to be in daycare, I babysat, made crafts at home and sold them, and sold tupperware when my husband was on the right shift to babysit. All of those jobs gave me a little more knowledge in many different ways. Finances, more experience with children, learning I did have some craftiness in my body :) and learning to juggle raising children and my job - but without having to haul the kids to daycare every day. I worked as an inspector at the elections - and that worked when my kids were older because the elections weren't very often. I got a job cleaning trash at a drivein theater. Lots of knowledge there - and the kids got to earn their very first job money helping me in the mornings. I learned that regardless of the job, you do your best. I cleaned the inside of the concession stand and learned a LOT about getting popcorn grease off the floor, and cleaning restrooms (YUCK). The funny thing about that job, is that recycling paid really, really good then. We couldn't afford a bicycle for our son, but thanks to picking up cans and bottles that people brought and threw out at the drivein - we made enough money one summer by recycling to pay for a bicycle for him. Not bad! I even learned about nature - because Kildare birds would make their nests in the gravel. The kids were always hunting to find their nests, because they were really camouflouged. We looked up information about Kildeer, and the kids got a nature lesson.
Then a brand new program was implemented in the Juvenile Department. I was hired as secretary to the Restitution Program - where teens who have done damage pay off the bill. We helped them get hired by companies, etc. I was only secretary for a few months, and then the Restitution Officer quit, and they moved me into the position. All of a sudden, I was meeting with perspective employers (and I was about as shy as they come in those days), learning how to business talk correctly, and match kids with jobs. I had to apply for the grant every year, and manage every bit of money - including figuring out how much social security money, state withholding and federal withholding to keep out of my check. I did hire a secretary for a month or so, and she moved. So I did it all. To get the grant each year, because the total grant money was smaller each year, I had to present my program to a board, tell them WHY I should be the program that got the money that year, instead of someplace else in OK. To say I was terrified is the understatement of the year. Talking in front of a group was something I was beyond terrified to do. But I did it, I learned and I truly think that experience helped me when I became a teacher.
Eventually, the grant was empty, and I was hired to become an Assistant Juvenile Officer. I learned all about court stuff, even had to testify on occasion. I was dropped into the darker side of child abuse and molestation - and took away the innocence that I had. I KNEW things like that happened, but until you have witnessed the aftereffects, and typed the details for court - you really don't know. I learned pages after pages of laws as to what we could charge kids with. I learned to work under a deadline - or an abused child would go back to their abusive family. 24 hours is a really tight deadline, and sometimes I would be typing the petition up hours before the child would have gone back to that horrible family.
Sounds like I wrote a resume! But the decision to marry, have children, and move 200 miles away from my little hometown, shaped my life. It got me to where I am today. So although I would love to have a bigger retirement from teaching more years, those experience in between shaped me and made me who I am today - for better or worse!
AND my last word on this - I would never, ever have changed those experineces and the chance to spend more time with my kids, including the last few years of high school when I didn't have a job at all due to my health. I treasure the lunch times when they came flying in the door, I fed them, we chattered and they went flying back out to school. I never knew who they would bring home for lunch, so I always made plenty. I got to meet an exchange student from the Netherlands and one from Turkey - as well as see their close friends on a regular basis.
Decisions don't always turn out how we expect. But years later, those decisions are what shapes our life and make us who we are.
Peace and love to all.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Dear Santa
Dear Santa,
I am 60 years old but yet I feel the urge to give you my Christmas list. When I had my students write about having three wishes, I told them they needed to have 2 that helped the world or their family, and one could be completely selfish. Since I intend to give you WAY more than 3 things on my list, I'm doing the selfish ones first, and there will MORE than 1, trust me!
I would REALLY like a Mitsubishi 3000 GT, Candy Apple Red. See Santa, they don't make that model anymore, so you will have to find one somewhere that can be restored. And Santa, I want a stereo sound system that will blow those punks out of the water that sit at the stop light and all you can hear is "boom, boom, boom, boom" that shakes your car and makes your teeth ache!
Could you please make our house bigger. That would sure help Mr. B. get around it in his wheelchair better. Particularly could you make our bedroom bigger so I don't have to squeeze between the wall and wheelchair to take care of him. Thanks - that would be great!
AND Santa, could you arrange a world trip for my sister and I? We would both like to travel the world before we get too old, but that takes WAY more money than either of us will have in a lifetime. Let's see ..... France, Spain, Italy, Greece, Scotland, Ireland, England, Germany, Switzerland, Australia, and pretty please, a safari to Africa! Hmmm - better add in there the South American Rainforest and the ruins of the Atzec Nation and Inca Nation. When we get through with all that, we are going to be pooped, so how about a trip to Tahiti so we can just sit on the sand and veg!
Now since I got that out of my system, I can focus on family and world. For both my kids, would you please pay off all their debts, their house, cars, medical bills and any remaining student loans. Mr. B. and I just couldn't pay for their college outright, so both sets of families have loans to pay off. Besides, I'd kind of like them to get those paid for before their children get in college and they have to start paying on those! :)
Would you also please bring peace to our world? I am so tired of hearing which militant group who has more guns and is more depraved, having the upper hand over civilians that just want to live their life. Please bring war to an end. Let the children go to school without worrying about getting blown up on their way. Bring a stop to the depraved raping and killing of women that goes on in many countries of the world. Let men in other countries see the value of women, and let them be a first class citizen instead of someone to control and hurt when they feel like it.
Now Santa, I know my list is getting long, but I do have one last request, that would not only make our family happy, but would make a LOT of people happy who have invested prayers, emotions, money and food in this particular problem. Could you please, pretty please, bring my granddaughter a new liver. I don't want to have someone die so she can live, so this will require a HUGE miracle Santa. If that is not possible, then could you please take away her 24/7 pain so she can function as normally as she can with this disease. Give her sisters some extra attention because they need it so badly. Bring extra strength to their parents who are exhausted and emotionally drained.
Really and truly Santa, skip all the wishes except the liver. That would make a ton of people happy.
Thank you Santa,
Marty Bittle
I am 60 years old but yet I feel the urge to give you my Christmas list. When I had my students write about having three wishes, I told them they needed to have 2 that helped the world or their family, and one could be completely selfish. Since I intend to give you WAY more than 3 things on my list, I'm doing the selfish ones first, and there will MORE than 1, trust me!
I would REALLY like a Mitsubishi 3000 GT, Candy Apple Red. See Santa, they don't make that model anymore, so you will have to find one somewhere that can be restored. And Santa, I want a stereo sound system that will blow those punks out of the water that sit at the stop light and all you can hear is "boom, boom, boom, boom" that shakes your car and makes your teeth ache!
Could you please make our house bigger. That would sure help Mr. B. get around it in his wheelchair better. Particularly could you make our bedroom bigger so I don't have to squeeze between the wall and wheelchair to take care of him. Thanks - that would be great!
AND Santa, could you arrange a world trip for my sister and I? We would both like to travel the world before we get too old, but that takes WAY more money than either of us will have in a lifetime. Let's see ..... France, Spain, Italy, Greece, Scotland, Ireland, England, Germany, Switzerland, Australia, and pretty please, a safari to Africa! Hmmm - better add in there the South American Rainforest and the ruins of the Atzec Nation and Inca Nation. When we get through with all that, we are going to be pooped, so how about a trip to Tahiti so we can just sit on the sand and veg!
Now since I got that out of my system, I can focus on family and world. For both my kids, would you please pay off all their debts, their house, cars, medical bills and any remaining student loans. Mr. B. and I just couldn't pay for their college outright, so both sets of families have loans to pay off. Besides, I'd kind of like them to get those paid for before their children get in college and they have to start paying on those! :)
Would you also please bring peace to our world? I am so tired of hearing which militant group who has more guns and is more depraved, having the upper hand over civilians that just want to live their life. Please bring war to an end. Let the children go to school without worrying about getting blown up on their way. Bring a stop to the depraved raping and killing of women that goes on in many countries of the world. Let men in other countries see the value of women, and let them be a first class citizen instead of someone to control and hurt when they feel like it.
Now Santa, I know my list is getting long, but I do have one last request, that would not only make our family happy, but would make a LOT of people happy who have invested prayers, emotions, money and food in this particular problem. Could you please, pretty please, bring my granddaughter a new liver. I don't want to have someone die so she can live, so this will require a HUGE miracle Santa. If that is not possible, then could you please take away her 24/7 pain so she can function as normally as she can with this disease. Give her sisters some extra attention because they need it so badly. Bring extra strength to their parents who are exhausted and emotionally drained.
Really and truly Santa, skip all the wishes except the liver. That would make a ton of people happy.
Thank you Santa,
Marty Bittle
Thursday, December 1, 2011
There Can Be Miracles - to DJ
D.J., my brave granddaughter - this is dedicated to you. Hang in there. Thousands of people are praying for a miracle for you. You are so loved. from your mimi
Many nights we prayed
With no proof anyone could hear
In our hearts a hope for a song
We barely understood
Now we are not afraid
Although we know there's much to fear
We were moving mountains
Long before we knew we could, whoa, yes
There can be miracles
When you believe
Though hope is frail
It's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve
When you believe somehow you will
You will when you believe
[Mmmmmmmmmyeah]
Mmmyeah
In this time of fear
When prayer so often proves in vain
Hope seems like the summer bird
Too swiftly flown away
Yet now I'm standing here
My hearts so full, I can't explain
Seeking faith and speaking words
I never thought I'd say
There can be miracles
When you believe (When you believe)
Though hope is frail
It's hard to kill (Mmm)
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve (You can achieve)
When you believe somehow you will
You will when you believe
[Hey]
[Ooh]
They don't always happen when you ask
And it's easy to give in to your fears
But when you're blinded by your pain
Can't see the way, get through the rain
A small but still, resilient voice
Says love is very near, oh [Oh]
There can be miracles (Miracles)
When you believe (Boy, when you believe, yeah) [Though hope is frail]
Though hope is frail [Its hard]
It's hard to kill (Hard to kill, oh, yeah)
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve (You can achieve, oh)
When you believe somehow you will (Somehow, somehow, somehow)
Somehow you will (I know, I know, know)
You will when you believe [When you]
(Ohoh)
[You will when you]
(You will when you believe)
[Oohoohooh]
[Oh... oh]
[When you believe]
[When you believe]
- written by Stephen Schwartz -
My favorite version is sung by the Celtic Women. Magnificent, incredible performance. If you get to watch their DVD where they perform at dusk in front of a castle in Ireland - the beauty is breathtaking and actually helps you believe that miracles can happen. That's what I want for Christmas - a miracle for my family.
Many nights we prayed
With no proof anyone could hear
In our hearts a hope for a song
We barely understood
Now we are not afraid
Although we know there's much to fear
We were moving mountains
Long before we knew we could, whoa, yes
There can be miracles
When you believe
Though hope is frail
It's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve
When you believe somehow you will
You will when you believe
[Mmmmmmmmmyeah]
Mmmyeah
In this time of fear
When prayer so often proves in vain
Hope seems like the summer bird
Too swiftly flown away
Yet now I'm standing here
My hearts so full, I can't explain
Seeking faith and speaking words
I never thought I'd say
There can be miracles
When you believe (When you believe)
Though hope is frail
It's hard to kill (Mmm)
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve (You can achieve)
When you believe somehow you will
You will when you believe
[Hey]
[Ooh]
They don't always happen when you ask
And it's easy to give in to your fears
But when you're blinded by your pain
Can't see the way, get through the rain
A small but still, resilient voice
Says love is very near, oh [Oh]
There can be miracles (Miracles)
When you believe (Boy, when you believe, yeah) [Though hope is frail]
Though hope is frail [Its hard]
It's hard to kill (Hard to kill, oh, yeah)
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve (You can achieve, oh)
When you believe somehow you will (Somehow, somehow, somehow)
Somehow you will (I know, I know, know)
You will when you believe [When you]
(Ohoh)
[You will when you]
(You will when you believe)
[Oohoohooh]
[Oh... oh]
[When you believe]
[When you believe]
- written by Stephen Schwartz -
My favorite version is sung by the Celtic Women. Magnificent, incredible performance. If you get to watch their DVD where they perform at dusk in front of a castle in Ireland - the beauty is breathtaking and actually helps you believe that miracles can happen. That's what I want for Christmas - a miracle for my family.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Did you take a test to become a parent?
Thoughts have been swirling around in my head for days, and they started swirling because I was with my son and family that I love over Thanksgiving. The family I would not have if my husband had not been adopted by his parents, went to college, met and married me, and had our family. Wow - lots of words for a quick point. But it really set me thinking about the whole idea of being a parent. I have seen a very different view of parenting and children than a lot of people, because I have been in the trenches and seen what hideous things parents do to their children. Some children survive and go on to have a full life. Some never make it emotionally. Some children grow up to continue that cycle of abuse to yet another generation. Should they have not been born? Wouldn't it have been better to have those children were given up for adoption? Would they have been better off in a foster home? Don't know that I have a real answer for those questions.
My most favorite comic strip episode is of Hagar the Horrible and his wife standing by a stream. They are watching salmon jumping up the falls, falling again, and jumping again, just to reach the waters where they will lay eggs and have a family. Hagar turns to his wife and remarks, "Sometimes, I think that humans should have to go through something like that before they can become a parent." I may have misquoted because it has been awhile since I saw the comic strip. But - wow, does he have a point!
People study for years and take lots of tests to become doctors, nurses, lawyers, teachers, medical professionals, and a zillion other professions. Yet - the most important job in the world can be had by anyone without a single test, a single educational class or any training whatsoever. Kind of blows your mind, eh? And I must say without flinching that some people should NEVER, EVER become parents. We used to joke when I was an Assistant Juvenile officer that we should have a sign on our office door that said, "dump your unwanted children here." I guess we joked to cover the daily pain of seeing abused children and knowing we were doing the right thing taking them from their abusive parents. We joked because weekly we had parents who called us to say they wanted to dump their teenagers with us because they couldn't take care of them or make them mind. So very very sad but true. Parents who should never have had children, who refused to let anyone else have their children even tho they did unspeakable things to their children. To them, their children were a possession, like a car or a game or a house. No one, NO ONE, was going to take their property away from them. Parents who at the first sign of trouble from their teenager, wanted out of parenthood, and wanted to dump the responsibility on someone else. Heartbreaking - and yes, I know teenagers can try the patience of the best of parents! But most of us don't give up and want to dump them at the first sign of trouble!
It all brings me back to my first statement - because his biological mother gave him up for adoption, my husband had a good life with his parents. He was an only child, adopted when his parents were almost 50. They were pretty old fashioned, didn't do a lot of "kid" things with him, but you knew without a doubt that the sun rose and set on their boy. My husband finally did meet his biological mother, sisters and brother, and later his biological dad. I absolutely get chills thinking what his life would have been like if he had not been rescued and given a loving home by his parents. He is the lucky one of that bunch! His half sister who is 5 years older was given up for adoption the day after hubby was. She was a lucky one too!
That being said, I go back to the parents who have children they do not want, but will not give up. I have never understood, nor will I ever understand, how a parent can hurt their own children - physically or sexually. You are given a gift - a precious life that is given into your care. How can parents turn that gift into a life of pain and emotional battering? Would that child have been better off not being born? Parenting doesn't have to be a life of riches and trips and THINGS. Parenting comes from giving of yourself to your children. Do parents make mistakes? Heck yes - all of us do. We do the best we can do - drawing on what we believe about being parents, what we learned from our own parents or grandparents, what we learned by seeing other families interact together and going from there. And good parents try to fix their mistakes. And good parents learn from their own parents mistakes and vow to do things differently as they raise their children. You change that pattern - if you were abused, you vow not to abuse your own children. If you were yelled at a lot, you vowed to not yell at your children or yell way less. If your parents belittled you, you vow to make your children feel they can accomplish anything in this world. If you were not given any choice about religion, dress, activities etc., then you vow that you will give your children choices that are appropriate. If nothing you did was ever good enough for your parents, then you change that and tell your children daily how wonderful they are and how proud of them you are.
I have to say in closing, that parenting doesn't necessarily have to be biological. Our son has a close friend who he grew up with. His friend still sends us mother's day and father's day cards, and signs it, your other son. Our daughter had close friends too that became our adopted kids. I became the "mom" of the wintergard girls, traveling with them, listening to their troubles, helping them with their hair, and screaming with joy from the stands when they performed - just as if each one of them was my own child.
My students slip sometimes and call me mom - and at first, it embarrassed them. But I tell them that I AM their mom - their school mom. If they misbehave, they are going to get in trouble, just like they would at home. If they do something that is great, I am going to rejoice and praise them for it, just like their mom would. I worry about them like their mom does, and I want every one of them to be the best they can be - just like their mom does. After I explain that, they understand why they slip and our class begins to bond as a family - just like theirs at home.
So to my children of my body, I hope your dad and I did a good enough job parenting you. Both of you are now grown up with families of your own, and are doing a good job of parenting my grandchildren. I hope that a tiny bit of what your dad and I taught you has stayed with you and will be passed on to your children. I love both of you with all my heart.
My most favorite comic strip episode is of Hagar the Horrible and his wife standing by a stream. They are watching salmon jumping up the falls, falling again, and jumping again, just to reach the waters where they will lay eggs and have a family. Hagar turns to his wife and remarks, "Sometimes, I think that humans should have to go through something like that before they can become a parent." I may have misquoted because it has been awhile since I saw the comic strip. But - wow, does he have a point!
People study for years and take lots of tests to become doctors, nurses, lawyers, teachers, medical professionals, and a zillion other professions. Yet - the most important job in the world can be had by anyone without a single test, a single educational class or any training whatsoever. Kind of blows your mind, eh? And I must say without flinching that some people should NEVER, EVER become parents. We used to joke when I was an Assistant Juvenile officer that we should have a sign on our office door that said, "dump your unwanted children here." I guess we joked to cover the daily pain of seeing abused children and knowing we were doing the right thing taking them from their abusive parents. We joked because weekly we had parents who called us to say they wanted to dump their teenagers with us because they couldn't take care of them or make them mind. So very very sad but true. Parents who should never have had children, who refused to let anyone else have their children even tho they did unspeakable things to their children. To them, their children were a possession, like a car or a game or a house. No one, NO ONE, was going to take their property away from them. Parents who at the first sign of trouble from their teenager, wanted out of parenthood, and wanted to dump the responsibility on someone else. Heartbreaking - and yes, I know teenagers can try the patience of the best of parents! But most of us don't give up and want to dump them at the first sign of trouble!
It all brings me back to my first statement - because his biological mother gave him up for adoption, my husband had a good life with his parents. He was an only child, adopted when his parents were almost 50. They were pretty old fashioned, didn't do a lot of "kid" things with him, but you knew without a doubt that the sun rose and set on their boy. My husband finally did meet his biological mother, sisters and brother, and later his biological dad. I absolutely get chills thinking what his life would have been like if he had not been rescued and given a loving home by his parents. He is the lucky one of that bunch! His half sister who is 5 years older was given up for adoption the day after hubby was. She was a lucky one too!
That being said, I go back to the parents who have children they do not want, but will not give up. I have never understood, nor will I ever understand, how a parent can hurt their own children - physically or sexually. You are given a gift - a precious life that is given into your care. How can parents turn that gift into a life of pain and emotional battering? Would that child have been better off not being born? Parenting doesn't have to be a life of riches and trips and THINGS. Parenting comes from giving of yourself to your children. Do parents make mistakes? Heck yes - all of us do. We do the best we can do - drawing on what we believe about being parents, what we learned from our own parents or grandparents, what we learned by seeing other families interact together and going from there. And good parents try to fix their mistakes. And good parents learn from their own parents mistakes and vow to do things differently as they raise their children. You change that pattern - if you were abused, you vow not to abuse your own children. If you were yelled at a lot, you vowed to not yell at your children or yell way less. If your parents belittled you, you vow to make your children feel they can accomplish anything in this world. If you were not given any choice about religion, dress, activities etc., then you vow that you will give your children choices that are appropriate. If nothing you did was ever good enough for your parents, then you change that and tell your children daily how wonderful they are and how proud of them you are.
I have to say in closing, that parenting doesn't necessarily have to be biological. Our son has a close friend who he grew up with. His friend still sends us mother's day and father's day cards, and signs it, your other son. Our daughter had close friends too that became our adopted kids. I became the "mom" of the wintergard girls, traveling with them, listening to their troubles, helping them with their hair, and screaming with joy from the stands when they performed - just as if each one of them was my own child.
My students slip sometimes and call me mom - and at first, it embarrassed them. But I tell them that I AM their mom - their school mom. If they misbehave, they are going to get in trouble, just like they would at home. If they do something that is great, I am going to rejoice and praise them for it, just like their mom would. I worry about them like their mom does, and I want every one of them to be the best they can be - just like their mom does. After I explain that, they understand why they slip and our class begins to bond as a family - just like theirs at home.
So to my children of my body, I hope your dad and I did a good enough job parenting you. Both of you are now grown up with families of your own, and are doing a good job of parenting my grandchildren. I hope that a tiny bit of what your dad and I taught you has stayed with you and will be passed on to your children. I love both of you with all my heart.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Hating The Right Things
I'm back after a hiatus. I've been in a really dark place for several weeks that just kept me from writing. Thus the topic - hate.
I am a pretty forgiving person on the whole. If someone does something really bad against me or to me, I eventually forgive them. I probably won't ever forget, but I do forgive. But when you mess with someone I love - family or friends - I don't forgive. No matter how I rationalize it, or give myself lectures - the hate doesn't go away. Over and over I think - What if this hadn't happened? What if things could go back to that time and go another path? I replay the incident over and over in my mind, fueling my anger over and over. I know it isn't good for my physical or mental health, so I keep struggling with it daily, trying to overcome that hate and let go of it.
This got me to thinking - is hate ever right? Is hating someone, or something ever correct in any way? I do know that hate and dwelling on it can physically harm a person's body. It can make them sick, give them ulcers and affect the way they look at that person/incident for the rest of their life. BUT, are there times when hate is not only OK, it is a good thing?
So I'm listing the things I hate that seem to be within the realm of being OK to hate.
1. I hate the disease that is slowing robbing my granddaughter of her 16 year old life. I see her going down every day, a little, in different ways. I see the clouding of her brilliant mind at time where she cannot concentrate or her sentences are confused. I see her body blowing up until parts look like they could burst from all the medicine she is taking so her liver will continue to function a little. I hear her talk, heartbroken, about the kids who make fun of her, or shy away from her now because she "looks" different. And yet, she forgives them, and continues to live her life to the fullest. As the old saying goes, "Don't judge a person until you have walked a mile in his shoes."
2. I hate child molesters. When I worked as an Assistant Juvenile Officer, part of what I did was prepare petitions for the court when we took a child away from their parents. I can remember sitting in front of the computer with tears in my eyes, my stomach churning and feeling like I was going to throw up - as I typed the hideous details of what parents did to their children. Right now my stomach is churning as I remember those poor, innocent children, damaged for the rest of their life. There is no hell bad enough for child molesters, and one level lower are the parents who molest their own children.
3. I hate war, particularly ones that seem to be going nowhere and accomplishing nothing. I realize that we fought for our freedom in the Revolutionary war. I can understand that - and am always grateful. I realize we had a civil war so there would be no more slaves. I understand that and applaud! Thanks to WWII, we are not all Nazis and we still have Jewish people on the earth. Hitler was evil and it was right for the nations to bring him down.
But for the US in its arrogance to invade countries, and expect the culture of 4,000 years to disappear and for them to be like we are is absolutely ludicrous. Those countries are not a country governed by a set of rules - they are governed by religion. The religion is their law- it has never been separated like it is in the US. For a culture that has been governed that way for 4,000 years, since Biblical times, they are not going to embrace a culture like the US. That isn't going to happen. So for me, that particular war is pointless, and my heart breaks for those families who lose loved ones that are fighting a war that we can't win.
Update 2018 - I thought when I originally wrote this that I would get some angry feedback. I had none. I still feel this way!
4. I hate poverty. It really hurts my soul when we send millions of dollars to other countries to help them, only to have the food or medicine or clothing or supplies grabbed by militants. We have thousands upon thousands of children starving in the US every day. I saw the statistics on poverty in the newspaper, and it estimated that 1 out of 4 children in the US goes hungry daily. That is unforgiveable! The first year I taught, I overheard two of my students talking about supper. One student replied that the only thing in his house was a can of tomato soup. Our district tries to find the chronically hungry kids and sends a backpack of non perishable food home with them on Friday, so they will have something to eat. During college, one of our required reading was about the inner city schools in New York. One new teacher was bewildered because at lunch, her students would stick chicken nuggets, etc. in their pockets. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore, and asked them why. Their reply was simple - that is for food for Saturday and Sunday. If we don't take them home, we have no food until Monday. Sad for a nation that has billionaires and millionaires who think the ultimate goal is to get more money.
So if hate is ever right, then hate the injustices that occur daily. Hate the people who hurt their children. Hate war - even if it is necessary. Hate poverty that gets worse while the rich get richer. Hate diseases that rob people of their life or make them struggle with that disease for the rest of their life. Hate bigots who cannot accept people with another skin color. Hate the fact that if you have lots of money, you can commit murder and not go to prison.
Thank you for those wise words, Mr. King.
I am a pretty forgiving person on the whole. If someone does something really bad against me or to me, I eventually forgive them. I probably won't ever forget, but I do forgive. But when you mess with someone I love - family or friends - I don't forgive. No matter how I rationalize it, or give myself lectures - the hate doesn't go away. Over and over I think - What if this hadn't happened? What if things could go back to that time and go another path? I replay the incident over and over in my mind, fueling my anger over and over. I know it isn't good for my physical or mental health, so I keep struggling with it daily, trying to overcome that hate and let go of it.
This got me to thinking - is hate ever right? Is hating someone, or something ever correct in any way? I do know that hate and dwelling on it can physically harm a person's body. It can make them sick, give them ulcers and affect the way they look at that person/incident for the rest of their life. BUT, are there times when hate is not only OK, it is a good thing?
So I'm listing the things I hate that seem to be within the realm of being OK to hate.
1. I hate the disease that is slowing robbing my granddaughter of her 16 year old life. I see her going down every day, a little, in different ways. I see the clouding of her brilliant mind at time where she cannot concentrate or her sentences are confused. I see her body blowing up until parts look like they could burst from all the medicine she is taking so her liver will continue to function a little. I hear her talk, heartbroken, about the kids who make fun of her, or shy away from her now because she "looks" different. And yet, she forgives them, and continues to live her life to the fullest. As the old saying goes, "Don't judge a person until you have walked a mile in his shoes."
2. I hate child molesters. When I worked as an Assistant Juvenile Officer, part of what I did was prepare petitions for the court when we took a child away from their parents. I can remember sitting in front of the computer with tears in my eyes, my stomach churning and feeling like I was going to throw up - as I typed the hideous details of what parents did to their children. Right now my stomach is churning as I remember those poor, innocent children, damaged for the rest of their life. There is no hell bad enough for child molesters, and one level lower are the parents who molest their own children.
3. I hate war, particularly ones that seem to be going nowhere and accomplishing nothing. I realize that we fought for our freedom in the Revolutionary war. I can understand that - and am always grateful. I realize we had a civil war so there would be no more slaves. I understand that and applaud! Thanks to WWII, we are not all Nazis and we still have Jewish people on the earth. Hitler was evil and it was right for the nations to bring him down.
But for the US in its arrogance to invade countries, and expect the culture of 4,000 years to disappear and for them to be like we are is absolutely ludicrous. Those countries are not a country governed by a set of rules - they are governed by religion. The religion is their law- it has never been separated like it is in the US. For a culture that has been governed that way for 4,000 years, since Biblical times, they are not going to embrace a culture like the US. That isn't going to happen. So for me, that particular war is pointless, and my heart breaks for those families who lose loved ones that are fighting a war that we can't win.
Update 2018 - I thought when I originally wrote this that I would get some angry feedback. I had none. I still feel this way!
4. I hate poverty. It really hurts my soul when we send millions of dollars to other countries to help them, only to have the food or medicine or clothing or supplies grabbed by militants. We have thousands upon thousands of children starving in the US every day. I saw the statistics on poverty in the newspaper, and it estimated that 1 out of 4 children in the US goes hungry daily. That is unforgiveable! The first year I taught, I overheard two of my students talking about supper. One student replied that the only thing in his house was a can of tomato soup. Our district tries to find the chronically hungry kids and sends a backpack of non perishable food home with them on Friday, so they will have something to eat. During college, one of our required reading was about the inner city schools in New York. One new teacher was bewildered because at lunch, her students would stick chicken nuggets, etc. in their pockets. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore, and asked them why. Their reply was simple - that is for food for Saturday and Sunday. If we don't take them home, we have no food until Monday. Sad for a nation that has billionaires and millionaires who think the ultimate goal is to get more money.
So if hate is ever right, then hate the injustices that occur daily. Hate the people who hurt their children. Hate war - even if it is necessary. Hate poverty that gets worse while the rich get richer. Hate diseases that rob people of their life or make them struggle with that disease for the rest of their life. Hate bigots who cannot accept people with another skin color. Hate the fact that if you have lots of money, you can commit murder and not go to prison.
"Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it."
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Thank you for those wise words, Mr. King.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Work Ethic in America
Probably not the best title I've come up with, but for now it will do. A lot of events have happened in the last year that got me to thinking about the lack of work ethic in our country. Yes - I know there are wonderful, great people who work their hearts out, who are dedicated to whatever job they have. But I also know that there are those who haven't got a clue what is proper behavior in a job, much less have any work ethic other than - it is all for ME!
We are blessed to have stumbled on or have known for years, wonderful people who have worked for us mowing, remodeling, fixing, and who do an A+ job. I remember that after the accident, we had to have someone do the mowing for us. Two acres and a tiny riding lawn mower took 8 hours and wore me out. The first lawn care guy we found, started out fairly good - then it went downhill as fast as slipping on a banana peel. Parts of the lawn would be unmowed. If there was ANYTHING on the lawn, he would mow around it, and leave the grass to grow around that object. Hoses, stray branches, a stray box that we didn't get picked up. The final straw came when the last job he did for us looked like someone had taken a hand scythe to the lawn - it was hideous. And he hadn't mowed where the hoses were for weeks, even tho I moved them so he could get the extra tall grass. He was gone and we found another guy, just starting his business. Talk about work ethic! He gets every single blade of grass, our lawn looks like a golf green, if I forget to move the hoses, he moves them, he blows all the grass off the sidewalks, and he is ALWAYS there when he says he will be. My husband and him have visited enough now, that they have become buddies. He says he saves our lawn for the last one of the day so he can just sit and shoot the breeze with hubby! They plan on going trout fishing together this winter.
I remember a restaurant in town that we finally quit going to because of the work ethic of their employees. It was a pizza place and the pizza was the best in town. However, the manager or owner decided to let teenagers run it, without adult supervision. We would go in to eat, and the place would be crawling with the employees' friends, all teenagers, and their friends would be begging for free food, gossiping with the employees, and trying to talk them into giving them free beer. The teenage employees just ignored their customers. We quit going, and the restaurant went out of business shortly after that.
I have been in stores where employees treat their customers as if the customers were a huge interference in their gossip time! I refuse to shop in stores like that.
I have been in stores and had to listen to an ongoing rant from the employees about: choose one - broken romances, getting drunk, fighting with friends, parties, in law problems, car breakdowns, bills not being paid, etc. etc. etc. I really and truly do NOT want to listen to your list of grievances when I check out. Shut up, and be courteous and do your job!
I remember a particular grocery store that was notorious for having employees working there that talked to other employees the entire time they were checking out customers. Some of the information that was spread around to anyone within earshot was not even close to being appropriate. A close friend of mine said that when she was checking out at a local grocery store, the checker had just had a fight with her boyfriend. Every item she picked up to scan was slammed down and then went to the sacker. My friend bit her tongue until the employee grabbed a sack of chips and smashed them on the scanner in her anger against her boyfriend. My friend let her know in no uncertain terms that she would much prefer her chips to be whole and not smashed to bits, that she would appreciate it if she would quit slamming her food around, quit yapping about her blown romance, and do her job right!
My son in law worked at a grocery store for several years as co manager. He said it was a nightmare trying to schedule people to work. They would call in sick for a zillion reasons, teens would just not show up, adults would decide they didn't particularly want to work that day, or they had a date and couldn't possibly work that day. I've heard that from a lot of employers when they try to schedule their employees! My theory is - if you apply for and accept a job, then get your butt there every day, and stop acting like the job owes you!
Recently at construction at our school, the foreman showed up one day, and the company he had subcontracted with left without a single word to him. They left all their gear, equipment, and tools laying in the hallways of the school. Never heard from them again.
We taught both of our children that work ethic was one of the most valuable tools in life that we could teach them. Our son started working at 15 1/2 at a hospital here. His hours kept getting longer and longer until we finally had to go talk to the personnel office. It was getting impossible for him to keep up with his schoolwork and job at the same time. When we reminded them that he was only 15 1/2, they were horrified and apologized all over themselves. They said he was so mature, and worked so hard, never was late or failed to show up, and went above and beyond what the job called for, that they completely forgot he was only 15 1/2 years old. He knew what it meant to have a good work ethic.
Our daughter worked several jobs at 15 1/2 and then 16. She told all of her friends that they were not to come and visit her at the Popcorn Shop, or later at the carosoul where she worked. She told them that it was not appropriate and that she would visit with them after work. She knew what it meant to have a good work ethic.
When you are at work, then work. When it is time off, then you can play and visit. If you are hired to do a job, then do it correctly, show up on time, and care about what you are doing. It doesn't matter if you are building a 5,000 square foot house, or installing formica, or mowing a lawn - any job worth doing, is worth doing right.
And thanks to those employees everywhere that know what it means to have a job, do it right and treat people around them with respect. Salute!
We are blessed to have stumbled on or have known for years, wonderful people who have worked for us mowing, remodeling, fixing, and who do an A+ job. I remember that after the accident, we had to have someone do the mowing for us. Two acres and a tiny riding lawn mower took 8 hours and wore me out. The first lawn care guy we found, started out fairly good - then it went downhill as fast as slipping on a banana peel. Parts of the lawn would be unmowed. If there was ANYTHING on the lawn, he would mow around it, and leave the grass to grow around that object. Hoses, stray branches, a stray box that we didn't get picked up. The final straw came when the last job he did for us looked like someone had taken a hand scythe to the lawn - it was hideous. And he hadn't mowed where the hoses were for weeks, even tho I moved them so he could get the extra tall grass. He was gone and we found another guy, just starting his business. Talk about work ethic! He gets every single blade of grass, our lawn looks like a golf green, if I forget to move the hoses, he moves them, he blows all the grass off the sidewalks, and he is ALWAYS there when he says he will be. My husband and him have visited enough now, that they have become buddies. He says he saves our lawn for the last one of the day so he can just sit and shoot the breeze with hubby! They plan on going trout fishing together this winter.
I remember a restaurant in town that we finally quit going to because of the work ethic of their employees. It was a pizza place and the pizza was the best in town. However, the manager or owner decided to let teenagers run it, without adult supervision. We would go in to eat, and the place would be crawling with the employees' friends, all teenagers, and their friends would be begging for free food, gossiping with the employees, and trying to talk them into giving them free beer. The teenage employees just ignored their customers. We quit going, and the restaurant went out of business shortly after that.
I have been in stores where employees treat their customers as if the customers were a huge interference in their gossip time! I refuse to shop in stores like that.
I have been in stores and had to listen to an ongoing rant from the employees about: choose one - broken romances, getting drunk, fighting with friends, parties, in law problems, car breakdowns, bills not being paid, etc. etc. etc. I really and truly do NOT want to listen to your list of grievances when I check out. Shut up, and be courteous and do your job!
I remember a particular grocery store that was notorious for having employees working there that talked to other employees the entire time they were checking out customers. Some of the information that was spread around to anyone within earshot was not even close to being appropriate. A close friend of mine said that when she was checking out at a local grocery store, the checker had just had a fight with her boyfriend. Every item she picked up to scan was slammed down and then went to the sacker. My friend bit her tongue until the employee grabbed a sack of chips and smashed them on the scanner in her anger against her boyfriend. My friend let her know in no uncertain terms that she would much prefer her chips to be whole and not smashed to bits, that she would appreciate it if she would quit slamming her food around, quit yapping about her blown romance, and do her job right!
My son in law worked at a grocery store for several years as co manager. He said it was a nightmare trying to schedule people to work. They would call in sick for a zillion reasons, teens would just not show up, adults would decide they didn't particularly want to work that day, or they had a date and couldn't possibly work that day. I've heard that from a lot of employers when they try to schedule their employees! My theory is - if you apply for and accept a job, then get your butt there every day, and stop acting like the job owes you!
Recently at construction at our school, the foreman showed up one day, and the company he had subcontracted with left without a single word to him. They left all their gear, equipment, and tools laying in the hallways of the school. Never heard from them again.
We taught both of our children that work ethic was one of the most valuable tools in life that we could teach them. Our son started working at 15 1/2 at a hospital here. His hours kept getting longer and longer until we finally had to go talk to the personnel office. It was getting impossible for him to keep up with his schoolwork and job at the same time. When we reminded them that he was only 15 1/2, they were horrified and apologized all over themselves. They said he was so mature, and worked so hard, never was late or failed to show up, and went above and beyond what the job called for, that they completely forgot he was only 15 1/2 years old. He knew what it meant to have a good work ethic.
Our daughter worked several jobs at 15 1/2 and then 16. She told all of her friends that they were not to come and visit her at the Popcorn Shop, or later at the carosoul where she worked. She told them that it was not appropriate and that she would visit with them after work. She knew what it meant to have a good work ethic.
When you are at work, then work. When it is time off, then you can play and visit. If you are hired to do a job, then do it correctly, show up on time, and care about what you are doing. It doesn't matter if you are building a 5,000 square foot house, or installing formica, or mowing a lawn - any job worth doing, is worth doing right.
And thanks to those employees everywhere that know what it means to have a job, do it right and treat people around them with respect. Salute!
Monday, October 24, 2011
Funnies from the classroom
I wished I had written down the hysterical things that my students have said or written over the years. I've forgotten so many, but have a couple of my favorites to share. On a test about the colonies, the answer was to have been New Amsterdam. Their answer was - New Hamsterdam. Cracked me up! On another test the answer was to be the Duke of York. Their answer was - Duck of York. :)
One day we had a mass restroom break because I had to visit the facilities too. Not many chances for teachers to use the facilities with a full classroom. I went into the girls restroom, came out and as I was washing my hands, one of my boy students started stammering and stuttering. He said, "Mrs. B., did you just come out of there?" He indicated the restroom with his hand like he couldn't even say the word. I was puzzled but replied, "Yes, I did." He began stammering again and then said, "I didn't think teachers ever went!" My girls were standing right beside me and we all lost it. We were almost in tears from laughing.
My husband doesn't even bother to ask me what is wrong when I am hysterically laughing as I grade papers. Sometimes the things they write are just too funny.
Here's to teachers everywhere!
One day we had a mass restroom break because I had to visit the facilities too. Not many chances for teachers to use the facilities with a full classroom. I went into the girls restroom, came out and as I was washing my hands, one of my boy students started stammering and stuttering. He said, "Mrs. B., did you just come out of there?" He indicated the restroom with his hand like he couldn't even say the word. I was puzzled but replied, "Yes, I did." He began stammering again and then said, "I didn't think teachers ever went!" My girls were standing right beside me and we all lost it. We were almost in tears from laughing.
My husband doesn't even bother to ask me what is wrong when I am hysterically laughing as I grade papers. Sometimes the things they write are just too funny.
Here's to teachers everywhere!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Simpler times, simpler toys
Ahh, the simpler days of my youth. The simple joys of playing outside, simple toys and feeling safe playing outside even after dark. Now, I am a techie to the max. I love technology! I love my Iphone and I love my computer. I love Facebook. I love playing games on the net. I love the easiness of typing lesson plans and saving them on a flashdrive for future years. I love being able to print out a worksheet needed in the classroom from my computer at a moments notice.
But that being said - - those of you who are my age, or maybe even 20 years younger - - do you sometimes miss those simpler times? I look back at my childhood and never get the sense of hurry, hurry, hurry like our life seems now. I know that our toys didn't cost much, because we didn't have that much money growing up. We were comfortable but that was because both of my parents grew up in the depression and knew how to make every penny scream all the way to the bank. There was always a huge garden that was canned or frozen for the winter. My mom made all of our clothes, including my dad's. Shopping was once a year at Christmas or out of a catalog and that was very seldom because we didn't have the money.
(Update, Oct. 22, 2018. My dad was a teacher, mom stayed at home. If you are a teacher, you will instantly get what I'm talking about - making money scream all the way to the bank.!)
So I think back to the things that made me happy in my childhood - aka my toys or playthings. They certainly weren't electronic games or shopping sprees or Disney vacations. They were simple but they made me very happy and content.
The very first thing that comes to mind is our wonderful treehouse. Now by today's standards, this tree house would be condemmed - but we loved it. My brother built it for us. Then he decided it should be a two story house, so he added a second story. (The Wichita paper came down and did a front page article on our double story tree house.)We played and played in that house every day for years until it was too unsafe, and the big tree it was in had to come down. Also from that big old tree we had a swing - a gunny sack stuffed with something (don't know what). We would straddle it and swing our hearts out! There was always sand someplace - which led to hours of making sand creations. When a lady got married in our church, we were so enthralled with the whole wedding idea, that we made her a sand cake and decorated it with flowers from mom's garden.
In the summer, we ran through the sprinkler to stay cool. I don't remember having a wading pool at all.
Dad made us a swing set in his shop, that lasted probably 30 or more years. Even my kids got to play on it before the swing set came down. I had a bicycle with those big fat tires that I rode nearly every day in the summer. Either I'd ride around our tiny town, or I'd ride out to the creek.
My brother took me fishing with him on our bikes out in the country, along a country creek. Thanks Gene for taking your tag along sister with you. He was the one who told me that if I wanted to go fishing with him, I had to bait my own hook. I did! He did take the fish off, because most of them were catfish and he didn't want me to get finned and bleed all over!
When we had a nickel or so, we got to go to the drugstore a block away, and pick out candy. I remember choosing a charms lollypop many times, because when you unwrapped them, you sometimes found a free coupon for another one. I loved those lollypops.
We did not have a Sonic to run to for a soda. In fact, soda was a treat we got very rarely. My mom made homemade rootbeer one summer because she loved rootbeer. It was really good from what I remember - and I think only a couple of the jars exploded in the basement.
My favorite thing to do was to skate. I had those old skates that clamped on your shoes, and you had to tighten them so your shoe wouldn't pop out and you'd take a header on the concrete! There was a church catty corner from our house that had lots of sidewalks, so I'd go over there and skate around and around and around. I imagine my mom cringed everytime I put the skates on, because they were not kind to kids' shoes! Shoes were expensive so we took very good care of them. She never said a word to us about skating although our shoes would have black marks on them from the clamps!
Dad built a full size pingpong table and put it in the basement. We kids spent hours down there playing pingpong. My brother was a demon pingpong player. He always beat me, but in doing so, I became a much better player. Dad also made us a fooze ball table, and we played that for hours using a pingpong ball. I must admit, sometimes that poor pingpong ball got squished in the fooze ball game! He made a toss game using the rubber rings from canning jars mom used. And he made a karam board that my brother played a lot. I never was very good at it, because it required flipping these plastic pieces with your thumb and finger and my fingers were too tender!
There were lots of picinics to a nearby state lake where we ate and swam using innner tubes to float. Our church had lots of picnics in the country at one of the member's farms. We had huge bonfires, and us kids would climb the cliffs, or wade in the teeny tiny creek for a mile or so.
Of course, football games were a biggie growing up. Every Friday night was a football night where I marched in the band. The rest of the Friday nights were basketball where again I played with the band. I suppose that is not much different than kids do today.
On July 4th, we would walk to the edge of town to buy fireworks - mostly snakes and firecrackers. My brother built this intricate fort out of clay, and then we blew it up with firecrackers. Aaah, the memories!
My sister was 5 years younger than me, and had straight hair like I did. She wanted curly hair, but perms were unheard of then, unless you did them yourself. So I saved orange juice cans and toilet paper tubes and put her hair up in them to make it curl. It worked - for about an hour and then her hair was straight again. Simple things, simple times. Far different than going to a salon today and paying $90 for a perm.
We had some of those simple things for our own kids. The big refridgerator boxes became playhouses that they would decorate. When our old water bed mattress needed to be replaced, we took it outside, filled it up and let the kids jump on it until it burst! They rode bicycles down our hill, and our son would always try to ramp it across the creek. Hmm - never made it many times, so would come back up muddy and sopping wet. They had a rope swing that supposedly they were using to swing across the creek (tiny creek - 12 feet across, 6 - 12 inches of water). They always "missed" the other side and landed in the creek. Here they would come up, muddy and sopping wet. When we had a downpour, the creek would widen to 150 feet across and the current would be super fast. It would be 2 - 4 feet deep in places. When the water went down enough to be safe, our kids would lay a huge piece of styrofoam and float to the edge of our property. Dad would haul them out of the current, and they'd run back and do it all over again. We hauled that huge piece of styrofoam home from the lake where we found it on a camping trip.
Simple times, and simple things. Life in the slow lane. Good night!
But that being said - - those of you who are my age, or maybe even 20 years younger - - do you sometimes miss those simpler times? I look back at my childhood and never get the sense of hurry, hurry, hurry like our life seems now. I know that our toys didn't cost much, because we didn't have that much money growing up. We were comfortable but that was because both of my parents grew up in the depression and knew how to make every penny scream all the way to the bank. There was always a huge garden that was canned or frozen for the winter. My mom made all of our clothes, including my dad's. Shopping was once a year at Christmas or out of a catalog and that was very seldom because we didn't have the money.
(Update, Oct. 22, 2018. My dad was a teacher, mom stayed at home. If you are a teacher, you will instantly get what I'm talking about - making money scream all the way to the bank.!)
So I think back to the things that made me happy in my childhood - aka my toys or playthings. They certainly weren't electronic games or shopping sprees or Disney vacations. They were simple but they made me very happy and content.
The very first thing that comes to mind is our wonderful treehouse. Now by today's standards, this tree house would be condemmed - but we loved it. My brother built it for us. Then he decided it should be a two story house, so he added a second story. (The Wichita paper came down and did a front page article on our double story tree house.)We played and played in that house every day for years until it was too unsafe, and the big tree it was in had to come down. Also from that big old tree we had a swing - a gunny sack stuffed with something (don't know what). We would straddle it and swing our hearts out! There was always sand someplace - which led to hours of making sand creations. When a lady got married in our church, we were so enthralled with the whole wedding idea, that we made her a sand cake and decorated it with flowers from mom's garden.
In the summer, we ran through the sprinkler to stay cool. I don't remember having a wading pool at all.
Dad made us a swing set in his shop, that lasted probably 30 or more years. Even my kids got to play on it before the swing set came down. I had a bicycle with those big fat tires that I rode nearly every day in the summer. Either I'd ride around our tiny town, or I'd ride out to the creek.
My brother took me fishing with him on our bikes out in the country, along a country creek. Thanks Gene for taking your tag along sister with you. He was the one who told me that if I wanted to go fishing with him, I had to bait my own hook. I did! He did take the fish off, because most of them were catfish and he didn't want me to get finned and bleed all over!
When we had a nickel or so, we got to go to the drugstore a block away, and pick out candy. I remember choosing a charms lollypop many times, because when you unwrapped them, you sometimes found a free coupon for another one. I loved those lollypops.
We did not have a Sonic to run to for a soda. In fact, soda was a treat we got very rarely. My mom made homemade rootbeer one summer because she loved rootbeer. It was really good from what I remember - and I think only a couple of the jars exploded in the basement.
My favorite thing to do was to skate. I had those old skates that clamped on your shoes, and you had to tighten them so your shoe wouldn't pop out and you'd take a header on the concrete! There was a church catty corner from our house that had lots of sidewalks, so I'd go over there and skate around and around and around. I imagine my mom cringed everytime I put the skates on, because they were not kind to kids' shoes! Shoes were expensive so we took very good care of them. She never said a word to us about skating although our shoes would have black marks on them from the clamps!
Dad built a full size pingpong table and put it in the basement. We kids spent hours down there playing pingpong. My brother was a demon pingpong player. He always beat me, but in doing so, I became a much better player. Dad also made us a fooze ball table, and we played that for hours using a pingpong ball. I must admit, sometimes that poor pingpong ball got squished in the fooze ball game! He made a toss game using the rubber rings from canning jars mom used. And he made a karam board that my brother played a lot. I never was very good at it, because it required flipping these plastic pieces with your thumb and finger and my fingers were too tender!
There were lots of picinics to a nearby state lake where we ate and swam using innner tubes to float. Our church had lots of picnics in the country at one of the member's farms. We had huge bonfires, and us kids would climb the cliffs, or wade in the teeny tiny creek for a mile or so.
Of course, football games were a biggie growing up. Every Friday night was a football night where I marched in the band. The rest of the Friday nights were basketball where again I played with the band. I suppose that is not much different than kids do today.
On July 4th, we would walk to the edge of town to buy fireworks - mostly snakes and firecrackers. My brother built this intricate fort out of clay, and then we blew it up with firecrackers. Aaah, the memories!
My sister was 5 years younger than me, and had straight hair like I did. She wanted curly hair, but perms were unheard of then, unless you did them yourself. So I saved orange juice cans and toilet paper tubes and put her hair up in them to make it curl. It worked - for about an hour and then her hair was straight again. Simple things, simple times. Far different than going to a salon today and paying $90 for a perm.
We had some of those simple things for our own kids. The big refridgerator boxes became playhouses that they would decorate. When our old water bed mattress needed to be replaced, we took it outside, filled it up and let the kids jump on it until it burst! They rode bicycles down our hill, and our son would always try to ramp it across the creek. Hmm - never made it many times, so would come back up muddy and sopping wet. They had a rope swing that supposedly they were using to swing across the creek (tiny creek - 12 feet across, 6 - 12 inches of water). They always "missed" the other side and landed in the creek. Here they would come up, muddy and sopping wet. When we had a downpour, the creek would widen to 150 feet across and the current would be super fast. It would be 2 - 4 feet deep in places. When the water went down enough to be safe, our kids would lay a huge piece of styrofoam and float to the edge of our property. Dad would haul them out of the current, and they'd run back and do it all over again. We hauled that huge piece of styrofoam home from the lake where we found it on a camping trip.
Simple times, and simple things. Life in the slow lane. Good night!
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
My PA grandma
I am hurting tonight in my soul, and worrying about my granddaughter. I know I can't do anything that will make her better. Sometimes the only thing that helps is the ability to write. I decided I needed to have some precious memories surround me right now to lift my spirits. So it is time to write about my precious Pennsylvania grandma.
I don't even know where to start. My grandma had a LARGE family - 9 kids in all. 8 girls and 1 boy. Since she lived in PA and we lived in Kansas, we didn't get to see her as often as many of the other cousins. BUT when we did get to see grandma, it was like the World's Fair and Disney all in one.
When my grandparents got older, they became what we call now "snowbirds." During the summer, they lived in PA, then when it got cold, they drove to AZ where they rented a small house. My aunt lived there also. The highlight of those back and forth trips was that we got to see them going to AZ and going back to PA. I remember waiting, holding my breath, until they drove in the driveway.
My grandma could make the best bread I ever ate. Mom said many times (and her bread was fabulous) that she could never get her bread exactly like grandma's. One of the things I thought was different about grandma was that she wore Keds tennis shoes. That was way, way, way before Keds became the hip fashion statement they were in the 90's. I think her feet hurt and the Keds were her way of coping. I remember that she hummed under her breath a lot. I asked her once why she did that, and she told me that when things got bad, she hummed and it made her feel better. Eventually, it just got to be a habit.
A couple of summers, they got to stay the entire summer with us. I thought I had gone to heaven. They rented a little house in our town, once across the street, and another time a couple blocks over. I got to have the same experience as my cousins did of going to my grandma's house without traveling for days She took care of me several times when I was sick and gave me green jello and hot tea. :)
It was a joy to listen to her and my mom yakking in the kitchen - nonstop from the minute they drove in the driveway until they drove out again. Grandma had her hair cut really short, and one of the things she usually did at our house (for whatever reason) was get a permanent. I think my mom gave her some, but I know my Aunt Edna did. Grandma said that Aunt Edna rolled her scalp up with the hair! Then her head would be covered with soft white fluffy curls.
We did get to see her both in PA and in AZ. In the PA trips, I remember her more in her little house than in the big one. It was tiny, but grandma made it home. She was an amazing woman. I have no idea how she managed with so many children - must have been a child in diapers for 20 years or more. No washing machine either for years.
One of the things that touched me deeply was when I had my daughter, April. Grandma had a lapel watch that she had given to her mother (my great grandma) and it had the initials of AMB. When her mom died, grandma got the watch back. Without knowing it, or even planning it, our daughter's initials were AMB. Grandma called me and told me she was going to give me the watch to keep for April when she got older. That watch was treasured by my daughter for years. Sadly, when their house got burglarized a couple years ago, along with $20,000 worth of stuff, the thieves also took that lapel watch. My daughter called me sobbing about the robbery, but when I could finally understand what she was saying, it was losing the watch that was making her sob. Losing that watch from a great great grandma broke her heart.
When the call came that grandma had passed away, it broke my heart. I was too pregnant with our son and the airlines wouldn't let me fly to her funeral. Years later when we had a reunion, I asked some of my aunts to take me to her grave so I could see it for myself. I guess I just needed that finality of seeing her resting place.
Grandma - I miss you still today and it has been 35 years. Rest in peace.
I don't even know where to start. My grandma had a LARGE family - 9 kids in all. 8 girls and 1 boy. Since she lived in PA and we lived in Kansas, we didn't get to see her as often as many of the other cousins. BUT when we did get to see grandma, it was like the World's Fair and Disney all in one.
When my grandparents got older, they became what we call now "snowbirds." During the summer, they lived in PA, then when it got cold, they drove to AZ where they rented a small house. My aunt lived there also. The highlight of those back and forth trips was that we got to see them going to AZ and going back to PA. I remember waiting, holding my breath, until they drove in the driveway.
My grandma could make the best bread I ever ate. Mom said many times (and her bread was fabulous) that she could never get her bread exactly like grandma's. One of the things I thought was different about grandma was that she wore Keds tennis shoes. That was way, way, way before Keds became the hip fashion statement they were in the 90's. I think her feet hurt and the Keds were her way of coping. I remember that she hummed under her breath a lot. I asked her once why she did that, and she told me that when things got bad, she hummed and it made her feel better. Eventually, it just got to be a habit.
A couple of summers, they got to stay the entire summer with us. I thought I had gone to heaven. They rented a little house in our town, once across the street, and another time a couple blocks over. I got to have the same experience as my cousins did of going to my grandma's house without traveling for days She took care of me several times when I was sick and gave me green jello and hot tea. :)
It was a joy to listen to her and my mom yakking in the kitchen - nonstop from the minute they drove in the driveway until they drove out again. Grandma had her hair cut really short, and one of the things she usually did at our house (for whatever reason) was get a permanent. I think my mom gave her some, but I know my Aunt Edna did. Grandma said that Aunt Edna rolled her scalp up with the hair! Then her head would be covered with soft white fluffy curls.
We did get to see her both in PA and in AZ. In the PA trips, I remember her more in her little house than in the big one. It was tiny, but grandma made it home. She was an amazing woman. I have no idea how she managed with so many children - must have been a child in diapers for 20 years or more. No washing machine either for years.
One of the things that touched me deeply was when I had my daughter, April. Grandma had a lapel watch that she had given to her mother (my great grandma) and it had the initials of AMB. When her mom died, grandma got the watch back. Without knowing it, or even planning it, our daughter's initials were AMB. Grandma called me and told me she was going to give me the watch to keep for April when she got older. That watch was treasured by my daughter for years. Sadly, when their house got burglarized a couple years ago, along with $20,000 worth of stuff, the thieves also took that lapel watch. My daughter called me sobbing about the robbery, but when I could finally understand what she was saying, it was losing the watch that was making her sob. Losing that watch from a great great grandma broke her heart.
When the call came that grandma had passed away, it broke my heart. I was too pregnant with our son and the airlines wouldn't let me fly to her funeral. Years later when we had a reunion, I asked some of my aunts to take me to her grave so I could see it for myself. I guess I just needed that finality of seeing her resting place.
Grandma - I miss you still today and it has been 35 years. Rest in peace.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Getting my wings to fly
- What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
Grieve not, rather find,
Strength in what remains behind,
- William Wordsworth
English poet (1770 - 1850)
Monday, October 3, 2011
Spooky things that go bump in the night
I guess this has floated through my mind because my students are already planning what they will wear for Halloween. We have a huge assembly at our school where each grade gets to cross the stage and show off their costumes. It sets the aura for the day. Usually, my teaching partner and I plan a day of Halloween themed lessons. But I have to set the stage for the day in a special way.
In my room, I turn off all the lights. I have a string of mini lights that fit inside a black skull plastic discs. With the lights off, they glow very eerily. I have a plastic gargoyle pumpkin with lights that shine out of his eyes. I put on really spooky Halloween music with lots of heavy breathing, screams, organ music, doors creaking, wolves howling and owls hooting. When the kids walk in, they ooh and aah over the decorations.
My favorite part of the day is turning out the lights, turning on the skulls and the gargoyle pumpkin lights, and telling a ghost story or two. It makes my day if I am able to draw the students in by talking so low they can barely hear, and then shouting boo at them and hearing them scream. I always tell the classic hook story! Everybody loves a good ghost story.
My OK grandma used to sit all of us kids around her and she'd tell a ghost story about somebody missing a liver or something like that. She made the spookiest moaning sound I have ever heard. Then she'd yell boo, and we'd all scream and run! It didn't matter how many times she told that story, and we always knew what was coming .... we'd still scream and run. Every time she laughed and laughed at us scaredy cat kids!
That said, I remember several really spooky real life events that can't be explained today. The first one that comes to mind centers around a clock. My grandmother or great grandmother (the aunties weren't sure who) cross stitched and embroidered a clock front on cloth. My grandma gave it to my mom. Daddy made a wood and glass case for it and put clock works in it. It makes a partial chime every quarter of an hour, and then the number of bongs on the hour for what time it is. I LOVE that old clock. My sister and brother were gracious enough to let me have the clock after mom passed away. The clock had been in her room at the Assisted Living Center. The numbers were too small for her to see, so I got her a big one with oversize numbers. She said she still wanted that clock in her room because it comforted her and reminded her of the years it chimed the hours in her living room.
The clock ran fine! Period! Nothing wrong with it at all. When I took the clock home after she died and laid it on the counter until I could hang it, the clock stopped. Nothing fixed it - nothing! Hubby put new batteries in it, shook it gently, messed with the hands. Nothing worked. For whatever reason, I just left that clock on the kitchen counter for a week or two. One day my husband rolled through the kitchen, saw the clock and said out loud, "OK mom, you can start the clock back up." He continued to the living room. When he went back in a few minutes later, it was ticking, and was set to the correct time. I KID YOU NOT! He yelled at me to come and see. I saw and heard it. To this day, I have no clue why that old clock started, but it does make you wonder!!!
The second eerie thing I remember was at mom's funeral. We had a graveside service for her rather than a church service. My daughter and her friend sang at the funeral. Some history - my dad would always tell the grandkids that grandma had to sew his buttons on real tight when they were in a play or sang or something like that, because he was so proud, his buttons might pop off. Right before the song, my daughter had said, "Grandpa, you better get those buttons sewn on tight, cause I'm going to sing for grandma." Her grandpa had died 2 months before. In the middle of the song, there was a popping sound from the stereo that sounded just like buttons popping. My daughter almost couldn't go on with the song.
Yes, I know - probably coincidence. But you never know. So this Halloween, keep your eyes peeled, your wooden stakes handy, and don't eat all the candy before the trick or treaters come. They might not like that at all and .................... (fade to Twilight Zone music).
In my room, I turn off all the lights. I have a string of mini lights that fit inside a black skull plastic discs. With the lights off, they glow very eerily. I have a plastic gargoyle pumpkin with lights that shine out of his eyes. I put on really spooky Halloween music with lots of heavy breathing, screams, organ music, doors creaking, wolves howling and owls hooting. When the kids walk in, they ooh and aah over the decorations.
My favorite part of the day is turning out the lights, turning on the skulls and the gargoyle pumpkin lights, and telling a ghost story or two. It makes my day if I am able to draw the students in by talking so low they can barely hear, and then shouting boo at them and hearing them scream. I always tell the classic hook story! Everybody loves a good ghost story.
My OK grandma used to sit all of us kids around her and she'd tell a ghost story about somebody missing a liver or something like that. She made the spookiest moaning sound I have ever heard. Then she'd yell boo, and we'd all scream and run! It didn't matter how many times she told that story, and we always knew what was coming .... we'd still scream and run. Every time she laughed and laughed at us scaredy cat kids!
That said, I remember several really spooky real life events that can't be explained today. The first one that comes to mind centers around a clock. My grandmother or great grandmother (the aunties weren't sure who) cross stitched and embroidered a clock front on cloth. My grandma gave it to my mom. Daddy made a wood and glass case for it and put clock works in it. It makes a partial chime every quarter of an hour, and then the number of bongs on the hour for what time it is. I LOVE that old clock. My sister and brother were gracious enough to let me have the clock after mom passed away. The clock had been in her room at the Assisted Living Center. The numbers were too small for her to see, so I got her a big one with oversize numbers. She said she still wanted that clock in her room because it comforted her and reminded her of the years it chimed the hours in her living room.
The clock ran fine! Period! Nothing wrong with it at all. When I took the clock home after she died and laid it on the counter until I could hang it, the clock stopped. Nothing fixed it - nothing! Hubby put new batteries in it, shook it gently, messed with the hands. Nothing worked. For whatever reason, I just left that clock on the kitchen counter for a week or two. One day my husband rolled through the kitchen, saw the clock and said out loud, "OK mom, you can start the clock back up." He continued to the living room. When he went back in a few minutes later, it was ticking, and was set to the correct time. I KID YOU NOT! He yelled at me to come and see. I saw and heard it. To this day, I have no clue why that old clock started, but it does make you wonder!!!
The second eerie thing I remember was at mom's funeral. We had a graveside service for her rather than a church service. My daughter and her friend sang at the funeral. Some history - my dad would always tell the grandkids that grandma had to sew his buttons on real tight when they were in a play or sang or something like that, because he was so proud, his buttons might pop off. Right before the song, my daughter had said, "Grandpa, you better get those buttons sewn on tight, cause I'm going to sing for grandma." Her grandpa had died 2 months before. In the middle of the song, there was a popping sound from the stereo that sounded just like buttons popping. My daughter almost couldn't go on with the song.
Yes, I know - probably coincidence. But you never know. So this Halloween, keep your eyes peeled, your wooden stakes handy, and don't eat all the candy before the trick or treaters come. They might not like that at all and .................... (fade to Twilight Zone music).
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Nicknames, nicknames - what is in a nickname?
A friend just mentioned on FB that she used to call my hubby Big Charley. Reminded me of all the nicknames I've given people over the years or what my own nicknames were.
First and foremost - Marty is a nickname. My given name was Martha, named after my aunt. By the time I was 16, I had pretty much changed to Marty to everyone but my family. My mother was indignant. She told me, "I gave you a perfectly good name. You don't need a nickname." Sorry, mom. It happened anyway.
Since then, my husband has added his own version. He calls me squaw (apologies to any Native Americans reading this), midget (again apologies to little people) and Smurf (no apologies there, I'm just not blue!)
My daughter in law loves to call me Martha June to get my attention. Her girls do the same now cause I chase them around and tell them not to call me Martha June. They just fall on the floor giggling. My cousin, who is now struggling with Alzheimers, also called me Martha June all my life.
Each of our grandchildren has a nickname that papa gave them. I told him some of them don't make sense, but he laughs and continues on anyway.
I remember giving my son two nicknames - Little Charley and Sweet Pea. He informed me very severely when he was in high school that I really should quit calling him Little Charley cause he was not LITTLE anymore. He was almost six foot by then, so guess he had a point. The Sweet Pea came to a halt when he was in junior high. He gently asked me if I would please stop calling him that in public, because it embarrased him. So Sweet Pea, I quit calling you that! :)
I am still not sure how this started, but I called my daughter "sis" off and on for years. She answered to both her name and sis for years. It might have come about because Charley Jr. could not pronounce April when he was little so he called her sissy until he was older.
I have a nickname for my 5th graders. I call them Rugrats (definitely not after the stupid cartoon). They think it is quite funny!
My teaching partner/friend's little boy hangs out in both of our rooms after school. He's become my adopted boy grandchild, I guess! I started calling him Squirt. He asked me one day why I called him Squirt. I explained that nicknames are sometimes given to people that you love as a special name, just for them. He thought about that for a minute, nodded and went on. That night when I told him goodbye, I said, "Goodbye Squirt, I'll see you in the morning." He grinned really big, clasped both hands together and held them to his heart! Got tears in my eye.
I had a friend who named her boy, Michael. She was adamant that no one should ever call him Mike. He never was called Mike, and now that he is an adult with children of his own - he is difinitely not a Mike. I wondered if she saw into the future and knew that he would always be a Michael, not a Mike.
When our first granddaughter was born, she was named Danielle June. But her parents had already decided to put the two names together and call her DJ. She's been DJ since the day she was born. That even has been shortened occasionally to Deeej. When she gets called Danielle by her parents, she knows she in deep, deep trouble If she gets called Danielle June, she might as well pack her bags and run away!
DJ for awhile in kindergarten had a "boyfriend" named TJ. She said they were going to get married and have a kid and call him P.J. No comment!
When April was in HS, she had a friend who's dad called her June. She still remembers that name fondly from her dad's friend.
My own dad nicknamed April's best friend as "Smiley." He always called her that when she visited because she was always laughing and smiling.
April's brother nicknamed her Ape Girl. Luckily, she loves him and didn't care. But Ape Girl? Another of her friends calls her Grape Ape! I'm just shaking my head!
Nicknames can also be really, really bad. I was called nicknames in HS - not because they wanted to tease me in a fun way. They wanted to hurt me. I'm 60 now, and to remember that hurt after all these years says something about the power of bad nicknames.
My granddaughter kind of got a nickname for having to wear a mask at school so she wouldn't get sick. She has autoimmune hepatitis and is in chronic liver failure. The one she heard the most was "Bird Flu, Bird Flu." It hurt! So do names like Fatty, Fatso, Pitface, Nerd, etc. etc. etc. Some are meant to hurt, while others are just in fun.
I had one class who for whatever reason decided they all needed nicknames for me to call them by. It was quite comical because one student chose BOB because that was his initials. Wish I had written them all down because some were downright funny, some were wistful thinking, and some were about who they felt they were. Loved those kids that year. Smart, funny and certainly imaginative!
And of course, we all have our pet nicknames for the spouses! Most of mine probably aren't appropriate for a blog, so I'll just leave you wondering. So adios, Sweet Pea, Sis, DJ, Alaina Bean, Cally Wally Doodle, Miss K, and Lillie. May you forever be loved.
First and foremost - Marty is a nickname. My given name was Martha, named after my aunt. By the time I was 16, I had pretty much changed to Marty to everyone but my family. My mother was indignant. She told me, "I gave you a perfectly good name. You don't need a nickname." Sorry, mom. It happened anyway.
Since then, my husband has added his own version. He calls me squaw (apologies to any Native Americans reading this), midget (again apologies to little people) and Smurf (no apologies there, I'm just not blue!)
My daughter in law loves to call me Martha June to get my attention. Her girls do the same now cause I chase them around and tell them not to call me Martha June. They just fall on the floor giggling. My cousin, who is now struggling with Alzheimers, also called me Martha June all my life.
Each of our grandchildren has a nickname that papa gave them. I told him some of them don't make sense, but he laughs and continues on anyway.
I remember giving my son two nicknames - Little Charley and Sweet Pea. He informed me very severely when he was in high school that I really should quit calling him Little Charley cause he was not LITTLE anymore. He was almost six foot by then, so guess he had a point. The Sweet Pea came to a halt when he was in junior high. He gently asked me if I would please stop calling him that in public, because it embarrased him. So Sweet Pea, I quit calling you that! :)
I am still not sure how this started, but I called my daughter "sis" off and on for years. She answered to both her name and sis for years. It might have come about because Charley Jr. could not pronounce April when he was little so he called her sissy until he was older.
I have a nickname for my 5th graders. I call them Rugrats (definitely not after the stupid cartoon). They think it is quite funny!
My teaching partner/friend's little boy hangs out in both of our rooms after school. He's become my adopted boy grandchild, I guess! I started calling him Squirt. He asked me one day why I called him Squirt. I explained that nicknames are sometimes given to people that you love as a special name, just for them. He thought about that for a minute, nodded and went on. That night when I told him goodbye, I said, "Goodbye Squirt, I'll see you in the morning." He grinned really big, clasped both hands together and held them to his heart! Got tears in my eye.
I had a friend who named her boy, Michael. She was adamant that no one should ever call him Mike. He never was called Mike, and now that he is an adult with children of his own - he is difinitely not a Mike. I wondered if she saw into the future and knew that he would always be a Michael, not a Mike.
When our first granddaughter was born, she was named Danielle June. But her parents had already decided to put the two names together and call her DJ. She's been DJ since the day she was born. That even has been shortened occasionally to Deeej. When she gets called Danielle by her parents, she knows she in deep, deep trouble If she gets called Danielle June, she might as well pack her bags and run away!
DJ for awhile in kindergarten had a "boyfriend" named TJ. She said they were going to get married and have a kid and call him P.J. No comment!
When April was in HS, she had a friend who's dad called her June. She still remembers that name fondly from her dad's friend.
My own dad nicknamed April's best friend as "Smiley." He always called her that when she visited because she was always laughing and smiling.
April's brother nicknamed her Ape Girl. Luckily, she loves him and didn't care. But Ape Girl? Another of her friends calls her Grape Ape! I'm just shaking my head!
Nicknames can also be really, really bad. I was called nicknames in HS - not because they wanted to tease me in a fun way. They wanted to hurt me. I'm 60 now, and to remember that hurt after all these years says something about the power of bad nicknames.
My granddaughter kind of got a nickname for having to wear a mask at school so she wouldn't get sick. She has autoimmune hepatitis and is in chronic liver failure. The one she heard the most was "Bird Flu, Bird Flu." It hurt! So do names like Fatty, Fatso, Pitface, Nerd, etc. etc. etc. Some are meant to hurt, while others are just in fun.
I had one class who for whatever reason decided they all needed nicknames for me to call them by. It was quite comical because one student chose BOB because that was his initials. Wish I had written them all down because some were downright funny, some were wistful thinking, and some were about who they felt they were. Loved those kids that year. Smart, funny and certainly imaginative!
And of course, we all have our pet nicknames for the spouses! Most of mine probably aren't appropriate for a blog, so I'll just leave you wondering. So adios, Sweet Pea, Sis, DJ, Alaina Bean, Cally Wally Doodle, Miss K, and Lillie. May you forever be loved.
Grandparents - they do a body good!
Grandparents are made in heaven. I love being a grandma or rather Mimi to my five girls. There is nothing sweeter than a phone call in the morning and hearing their little voices across the miles. Our NE girls called today to sing happy birthday to Papa cause they ran out of time yesterday. Our AZ girls called yesterday and sang to him. My parents started this tradition years ago - mom singing soprano, and dad singing in bass. It started with them singing Happy Birthday to Charley and I, then continued to our kids. Our kids have continued the tradition. We can't wait for our singing phone call. Makes our day. We continue the tradition and call both kids, spouses and all five grandchildren on their birthday.
All this got me to thinking about grandparents. About how much I loved mine. Two sets, two different lives and two different states - but one thing in common. They loved us unconditionally. I can only write about one set of grandparents at a time, because the memories are so numerous.
My paternal grandmother lived in the OK panhandle with my grandpa (step grandpa actually, but I never knew my other grandpa). I am in absolute awe about how my grandma made it during the depression days, raising 3 children without a daddy. My grandpa was kicked by a horse when grandma was pregnant with my dad. He died a week later, leaving my grandma with a 2 year old, a 1 year old and a baby on the way. I never fail to be amazed that for 10 years, she was mom and dad to her three kids, and ran the farm, the house, paid the bills, milked, gathered eggs, sewed, made clothing, quilts and still kept her sanity.
She did remarry and had 4 stepchildren and then one "theirs". When we got to visit her from Kansas, us kids would pile out of the car and grab grandma and nearly knock her down. She'd bake bread on Saturday night for Sunday, and take one look at our faces as it was baking and just laugh. She'd get out the butter and let us tear into a fresh loaf just out of the oven on Saturday night. Oh my! She always asked us what we wanted for Saturday morning breakfast. My mom warned us to not make her extra work, but I guess we kids never listened. We always asked for buckwheat pancakes. This required making the starter the night before and letting is rise, then mixing the final batch on Saturday morning. OH MY - I can still taste them with her Dutch Honey she made, and butter. Nothing comes close to them now!
Daddy said that many times there would be no food other than what the farm provided. They had lots of chickens so many times their meal would be fried eggs - as many as they could eat. He had vivid memories of the dust bowl days when grandma would try her best to keep the dust out. She would turn the plates upside down on the supper table, to keep the dust off. When they would turn them over to eat, there would be a huge white ring where they had been, surrounded by dust.
Grandma was an avid quilter. I was lucky enough to get one of her old calendars when she passed away. It was her journal, and she wrote on it each day. Lots of times she wrote about piecing together a quilt top, and then quilting for long hours at a time. She must have been fast according to her journal and the length of time it took her to finish it. All of us kids got a quilt from her. It is my prized possession.
My grandpa always did the honors by chopping off the chickens heads and cleaning them so we could have fried chicken for Sunday dinner. We went to church with them occasionally, and prayed all the way to the church. My grandpa was a horrible driver - his idea of staying on the road was from ditch to ditch. One time he got mad because there was a fly in the car and proceeded to swat at the fly for miles as we jerked back and forth between the ditches. I was ready to kiss the ground when we finally got to the church!
Grandma started the tradition of the Christmas Pie of presents. Money was really tight back then - not an extra cent for anything. So she would gather small presents all year long as she could afford it, and store them. At Christmas, she would wrap them and put them in a huge tub. She attached a string to each one, and ran it outside the rim. Then she covered the top with a piece of brown paper, marked to look like a pie. At present time, we would all get a string and pull. The presents weren't much - maybe cost a dime back then, but that was the highlight of our Christmas. I will never forget the thrill of pulling a string from the pie and seeing what I got. I still don't know how she did it, because grandma had a huge family and lots of grandkids.
Grandpa and grandma cleared out the old brooder house, and painted it, and then put in a bed and amenities for company. That, plus the old dugout connected to their house, provided lots of sleeping space. Crawling into the bed with crsip, clean white sheets smelling of outdoors was imprinted on my memory from a tiny child.
Grandma had a beautiful set of depression glasses in a rose color. The only thing I wanted from her house when she passed away, was a glass to remember her by. When we got to the house, most of her things were already gone to other members of the family. There was ONE glass left which I got. It has been in my kitchen ever since.
Grandma made ice cream in the ground. Yep, you read right, in the ground. They would dig a huge hole, line it was straw, put in the ice cream mix in a container and put it in the middle of the straw. Then they packed ice and salt around the container. Within hours it was frozen, creamy and out of this world. They did get a crank freezer eventually, and the ice cream was still fabulous - but I still remember that ice cream from the ground. Kind of magical.
So saying this - grandparents are the center of our extended family lives. When my grandma passed away, the pastor at her funeral gave us the analogy of a wheel. Grandma was the hub of the wheel, and we as her family were the spokes scattered around the hub. He said since grandma was gone, we were now tasked with making our own wheels with us as a hub, and our children and loved ones around us.
Rest in peace grandma. I still miss you after 28 years.
All this got me to thinking about grandparents. About how much I loved mine. Two sets, two different lives and two different states - but one thing in common. They loved us unconditionally. I can only write about one set of grandparents at a time, because the memories are so numerous.
My paternal grandmother lived in the OK panhandle with my grandpa (step grandpa actually, but I never knew my other grandpa). I am in absolute awe about how my grandma made it during the depression days, raising 3 children without a daddy. My grandpa was kicked by a horse when grandma was pregnant with my dad. He died a week later, leaving my grandma with a 2 year old, a 1 year old and a baby on the way. I never fail to be amazed that for 10 years, she was mom and dad to her three kids, and ran the farm, the house, paid the bills, milked, gathered eggs, sewed, made clothing, quilts and still kept her sanity.
She did remarry and had 4 stepchildren and then one "theirs". When we got to visit her from Kansas, us kids would pile out of the car and grab grandma and nearly knock her down. She'd bake bread on Saturday night for Sunday, and take one look at our faces as it was baking and just laugh. She'd get out the butter and let us tear into a fresh loaf just out of the oven on Saturday night. Oh my! She always asked us what we wanted for Saturday morning breakfast. My mom warned us to not make her extra work, but I guess we kids never listened. We always asked for buckwheat pancakes. This required making the starter the night before and letting is rise, then mixing the final batch on Saturday morning. OH MY - I can still taste them with her Dutch Honey she made, and butter. Nothing comes close to them now!
Daddy said that many times there would be no food other than what the farm provided. They had lots of chickens so many times their meal would be fried eggs - as many as they could eat. He had vivid memories of the dust bowl days when grandma would try her best to keep the dust out. She would turn the plates upside down on the supper table, to keep the dust off. When they would turn them over to eat, there would be a huge white ring where they had been, surrounded by dust.
Grandma was an avid quilter. I was lucky enough to get one of her old calendars when she passed away. It was her journal, and she wrote on it each day. Lots of times she wrote about piecing together a quilt top, and then quilting for long hours at a time. She must have been fast according to her journal and the length of time it took her to finish it. All of us kids got a quilt from her. It is my prized possession.
My grandpa always did the honors by chopping off the chickens heads and cleaning them so we could have fried chicken for Sunday dinner. We went to church with them occasionally, and prayed all the way to the church. My grandpa was a horrible driver - his idea of staying on the road was from ditch to ditch. One time he got mad because there was a fly in the car and proceeded to swat at the fly for miles as we jerked back and forth between the ditches. I was ready to kiss the ground when we finally got to the church!
Grandma started the tradition of the Christmas Pie of presents. Money was really tight back then - not an extra cent for anything. So she would gather small presents all year long as she could afford it, and store them. At Christmas, she would wrap them and put them in a huge tub. She attached a string to each one, and ran it outside the rim. Then she covered the top with a piece of brown paper, marked to look like a pie. At present time, we would all get a string and pull. The presents weren't much - maybe cost a dime back then, but that was the highlight of our Christmas. I will never forget the thrill of pulling a string from the pie and seeing what I got. I still don't know how she did it, because grandma had a huge family and lots of grandkids.
Grandpa and grandma cleared out the old brooder house, and painted it, and then put in a bed and amenities for company. That, plus the old dugout connected to their house, provided lots of sleeping space. Crawling into the bed with crsip, clean white sheets smelling of outdoors was imprinted on my memory from a tiny child.
Grandma had a beautiful set of depression glasses in a rose color. The only thing I wanted from her house when she passed away, was a glass to remember her by. When we got to the house, most of her things were already gone to other members of the family. There was ONE glass left which I got. It has been in my kitchen ever since.
Grandma made ice cream in the ground. Yep, you read right, in the ground. They would dig a huge hole, line it was straw, put in the ice cream mix in a container and put it in the middle of the straw. Then they packed ice and salt around the container. Within hours it was frozen, creamy and out of this world. They did get a crank freezer eventually, and the ice cream was still fabulous - but I still remember that ice cream from the ground. Kind of magical.
So saying this - grandparents are the center of our extended family lives. When my grandma passed away, the pastor at her funeral gave us the analogy of a wheel. Grandma was the hub of the wheel, and we as her family were the spokes scattered around the hub. He said since grandma was gone, we were now tasked with making our own wheels with us as a hub, and our children and loved ones around us.
Rest in peace grandma. I still miss you after 28 years.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Walking toward the light
Angels? Ghosts? Spirits? Guardian angels? Evil spirits? Are they real? Do they float around in the world, interfering in lives? Do they try to communicate? Is there an afterlife? So many questions, so few answers. Of all the things in the world that would finally send some peace to my soul - it was a stupid sit com. I don't even remember which one. The gist of the lines that hit me squarely in the face was that "if you have had a near death or a walk to the light experience, and it was good, then why are you afraid of death?"
Am I afraid if death anymore? Not really. Am I afraid of growing old? Well, heck yes! But my reasoning for not fearing death anymore starts back on May 22, 1998. It happened when we had a horrible car accident in Iowa, on our way to our son's college graduation from Northland College in Ashland, Wisconsin. We had the seats laid down in the back of the van so we could rotate sleeping and drive all night. None of us had much leave time to take, so we wanted to make the best use of our time. We hit a bridge embankment at 65 mph. Hubby and I were taking our turn sleeping. When we hit, he slid forward and hit his head against the back of the driver's seat. That was what put him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I was flipped in the air, through the center of the front seats, and landed upside down on the floor of the passenger seat. I was literally on top of my daughter. She slid out from under me, eased me back in the seat. Then she crawled into the middle seats, and tried to get the window open so she could get out. Everything in the car was electric, and with the crash, the battery was gone, and nothing electric worked. The windows wouldn't roll down, and the doors wouldn't open. Our daughter had to pry open the side window which opened sideways and then crawl out. There was a huge hole in the ground where the post for the bridge had been, When we hit it, the bridge post was torn out and tossed into the ditch. She fell into that hole when she climbed out the window. She was barefoot and had no coat on.
Shortening this - eventually there were 3 ambulances, 3 firetrucks, 2 or 3 highway patrol cars, several deputies cars, and some Mason City police cars. I think there must have been around 20 vehicles at the scene. It was pitch black because it was 4 in the morning. It was freezing cold - probably around 38 degrees. The firetrucks had their generators on, there were flashing lights for a mile, huge flood lights were mounted everywhere and the noise was unbearable. I was the only one left in the van because they could not get me out without the jaws of life. I say all of this to make the death experience make more sense. The rescue workers laid a heavy cover over me, and smashed out the windshield. The noise was so scary, and then I felt the glass pieces fall onto the cover. The rescue men began to use the jaws of life to cut me out. Noise of the jaws of life, people shouting, the generators running full blast, huge blazing lights all over the area, dozens of men surrounding the car and flashing strobe lights and headlights from all the vehicles and it was so very, very cold, even with blankets all over me.
My son in law slid into the driver's seat to comfort me while the hubby was already traveling in one ambulance to the hospital. Our daughter, 2 year old granddaughter and our unborn granddaughter were being cared for in another ambulance. Just in a blink of an eye, all of that noise, that freezing cold air, the glaring flood lights and strobes all faded away. I didn't walk to the light, I was just there. I was in a room that didn't seem to have any walls. The light was soft whitish yellow, it was absolutely quiet, and the air was warm. It felt like I was wrapped in a warm hug from someone who loved me. I have never felt so much peace before or after as I did then. Forgive the pun, but it was heaven.
I could hear my son in law trying to get my attention. He was frantic - he kept yelling my name, over and over. I heard him, but I ignored him because I didn't want to leave this warm, peaceful place. I kept on ignoring him until he finally yelled and called me mom, instead of my name, and I was back at the accident. By now, the pain was hideous, an EMT was behind me, holding me against the seat with a neck brace and giving me oxygen, and there were rows of rescue workers, EMT's and firemen lining the area where they were using the jaws. Every so often, they would pause a minute to ask me if I was alright and to explain what they were doing next. I looked up at them and asked them to please just let me die, please. I begged and begged and begged. Every breath I took was like breathing in shards of glass. I remember a fireman in a yellow slicker who had obviously been burned severely in a fire - with scars all over his face - and he had tears streaming down his face. The really really young EMT was crying also and he told me in no uncertain terms that he absolutely would not let me die. Then I was in the soft hug again. This repeated several times until they finally were able to put a backboard behind me and slide me up over the seat and out of the van. Then I was in an ambulance and on the way to the hospital.
Many people say that our brain does very strange things in a time of crisis, and that it is just a hallucination or a reaction of the brain to the pain and shock of the accident. Maybe. But what happened to me was as real as me sitting here typing on my computer. I haven't shared this with many people before now, because I don't like the reactions I get. Some disbelief, some just roll their eyes, some look at me with pity (like I am a nut case), and others just walk away.
That night, when I watched that silly sitcom - it hit me. If dying means going to that beautiful, quiet, warm and peaceful place, then why should I ever be afraid to die?
I am not a doctor, nor do I have even close to enough medical knowledge to know whether it was a hallucination, or some other medical term so that scientists can explain it to their satisfaction. I learned a long, long time ago that everything in this old world cannot be explained in black and white. So for me, I believe I did experience a quick step into whatever life is beyond this one, and I found it to be a world of peace and happiness. It has been 13 1/2 years but it still feels like yesterday.
Peace to all of you who read this.
Am I afraid if death anymore? Not really. Am I afraid of growing old? Well, heck yes! But my reasoning for not fearing death anymore starts back on May 22, 1998. It happened when we had a horrible car accident in Iowa, on our way to our son's college graduation from Northland College in Ashland, Wisconsin. We had the seats laid down in the back of the van so we could rotate sleeping and drive all night. None of us had much leave time to take, so we wanted to make the best use of our time. We hit a bridge embankment at 65 mph. Hubby and I were taking our turn sleeping. When we hit, he slid forward and hit his head against the back of the driver's seat. That was what put him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I was flipped in the air, through the center of the front seats, and landed upside down on the floor of the passenger seat. I was literally on top of my daughter. She slid out from under me, eased me back in the seat. Then she crawled into the middle seats, and tried to get the window open so she could get out. Everything in the car was electric, and with the crash, the battery was gone, and nothing electric worked. The windows wouldn't roll down, and the doors wouldn't open. Our daughter had to pry open the side window which opened sideways and then crawl out. There was a huge hole in the ground where the post for the bridge had been, When we hit it, the bridge post was torn out and tossed into the ditch. She fell into that hole when she climbed out the window. She was barefoot and had no coat on.
Shortening this - eventually there were 3 ambulances, 3 firetrucks, 2 or 3 highway patrol cars, several deputies cars, and some Mason City police cars. I think there must have been around 20 vehicles at the scene. It was pitch black because it was 4 in the morning. It was freezing cold - probably around 38 degrees. The firetrucks had their generators on, there were flashing lights for a mile, huge flood lights were mounted everywhere and the noise was unbearable. I was the only one left in the van because they could not get me out without the jaws of life. I say all of this to make the death experience make more sense. The rescue workers laid a heavy cover over me, and smashed out the windshield. The noise was so scary, and then I felt the glass pieces fall onto the cover. The rescue men began to use the jaws of life to cut me out. Noise of the jaws of life, people shouting, the generators running full blast, huge blazing lights all over the area, dozens of men surrounding the car and flashing strobe lights and headlights from all the vehicles and it was so very, very cold, even with blankets all over me.
My son in law slid into the driver's seat to comfort me while the hubby was already traveling in one ambulance to the hospital. Our daughter, 2 year old granddaughter and our unborn granddaughter were being cared for in another ambulance. Just in a blink of an eye, all of that noise, that freezing cold air, the glaring flood lights and strobes all faded away. I didn't walk to the light, I was just there. I was in a room that didn't seem to have any walls. The light was soft whitish yellow, it was absolutely quiet, and the air was warm. It felt like I was wrapped in a warm hug from someone who loved me. I have never felt so much peace before or after as I did then. Forgive the pun, but it was heaven.
I could hear my son in law trying to get my attention. He was frantic - he kept yelling my name, over and over. I heard him, but I ignored him because I didn't want to leave this warm, peaceful place. I kept on ignoring him until he finally yelled and called me mom, instead of my name, and I was back at the accident. By now, the pain was hideous, an EMT was behind me, holding me against the seat with a neck brace and giving me oxygen, and there were rows of rescue workers, EMT's and firemen lining the area where they were using the jaws. Every so often, they would pause a minute to ask me if I was alright and to explain what they were doing next. I looked up at them and asked them to please just let me die, please. I begged and begged and begged. Every breath I took was like breathing in shards of glass. I remember a fireman in a yellow slicker who had obviously been burned severely in a fire - with scars all over his face - and he had tears streaming down his face. The really really young EMT was crying also and he told me in no uncertain terms that he absolutely would not let me die. Then I was in the soft hug again. This repeated several times until they finally were able to put a backboard behind me and slide me up over the seat and out of the van. Then I was in an ambulance and on the way to the hospital.
Many people say that our brain does very strange things in a time of crisis, and that it is just a hallucination or a reaction of the brain to the pain and shock of the accident. Maybe. But what happened to me was as real as me sitting here typing on my computer. I haven't shared this with many people before now, because I don't like the reactions I get. Some disbelief, some just roll their eyes, some look at me with pity (like I am a nut case), and others just walk away.
That night, when I watched that silly sitcom - it hit me. If dying means going to that beautiful, quiet, warm and peaceful place, then why should I ever be afraid to die?
I am not a doctor, nor do I have even close to enough medical knowledge to know whether it was a hallucination, or some other medical term so that scientists can explain it to their satisfaction. I learned a long, long time ago that everything in this old world cannot be explained in black and white. So for me, I believe I did experience a quick step into whatever life is beyond this one, and I found it to be a world of peace and happiness. It has been 13 1/2 years but it still feels like yesterday.
Peace to all of you who read this.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)