NATURE'S SOOTHING WAYS

We went to the coast this week and we were able to enjoy nature.  A beautiful dolphin flirted with us, as we crossed the bridge over to the bay.  (No, it wasn't this one, but it looked pretty much like this.)  Then we went to the beach and chilled in the shade, while three brave souls went into the water.  I couldn't believe they would, when Soul Surfer was still so fresh in their minds.  No drama though, just a nice time and we enjoyed entertaining our little Grandlove in the shade by the picnic table.  A fresh, constant breeze cooled us, the noisy sea gulls begged from us and laughter bubbled to the surface.  


Wonderful day, simple pleasures, which we all needed, since this week will be tiring and terrifying.  So, when we sit listening to the doctor discussing the necessary, scary operation, we can bring forth the soothing beach memories of this week.

WARNING: MIXING GENRES MAY CAUSE CONFUSION

There is a strangeness going on within my mind at this point and some of the blame lies with my illness and the medicine to treat it. However, I believe that part of ricocheting thoughts have been caused by immersing myself in three completely different types of books at the same time. For example, when I finally turned off the bedside light last night, my mind continued to think in the Southern twang of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Scenes from that book danced across my closed eyelids and revived my memories and those stories my mom had shared of her life during the Great Depression. Reading about that time and the views held by people reminded me of some snippets of stories told by my sweet mom.

When she was a young girl (in the "roaring twenties") her large family lived in a huge house that had once been grand, but at this point was in need of more repair than was possible with her Pa's meager pay as a steam shovel operator. Her mother was from the old country (Germany) and kept her large family fed and clothed with whatever money Pa shared. Gardens were cultivated for vegetables, fruit trees were harvested, and chickens were raised for eggs and meat. Nothing was wasted, but everything was shared with whomever was more in need. Hard to imagine anyone more in need than a family with eleven children, but they somehow found their way to the doorstep of the large farm house.

Every spring for many years, traveling gypsies would come to ask permission to set up their wagons and camp in the apple orchard. In the evenings my mom and her sisters would go down there and sometimes sit up in the apple tree to sing songs in German. I can see these little white-headed girls sitting on the branch, with their saggy stockings, hand-me-down clean little dresses, and sparkling eyes sweetly singing with their pure voices. Below would be the rag-tag group of dark, swarthy families and their own children who accepted this welcome by a family who didn't know they were poor. If this would even be suggested in these times, oh, my would there be protests of "DANGER" "THEY CAN'T BE TRUSTED" or "THEY DON'T LOOK LIKE US, SO MAKE THEM GO AWAY." Luckily for my mom and her sisters, their outlook was one of adventure, acceptance and friendship.

There are other stories of my mom her relationships with people who looked different than her and at some other time, in another blog, I will share them. These stories speak volumes about the time in which my mother learned to be the person she was.

When my attention shifts to another book that I am exploring, then I am taken to a Southern college and the experiences of a naive girl who has made a few life changing mistakes. Tom Wolfe is the writer and he has a very colorful way of looking at the world. His language is not for the delicate, as he using the language of today's average college "jock". He does devout an entire section to the explanation of all the ways that the f-bomb can be and will be used. I know that I have diagrammed many a sentence in my day, and this section made for some interesting thought. More thought than the people who use this word actually give it, though.

This Tom Wolfe book reminds me of how truly unprepared I was to be in college and all the experiences which took over my being. I began college as a sweet, innocent, hopeful seventeen year old and finished as a wiser, tarnished, sadder, young adult. Would I change anything that happened to me at college? Probably not, for those experiences made me who I am today. On the other hand, if I had been treated kinder, gentler and nicer by the ones who tarnished me, one can only wonder who I would now. We will never know, since that part of my past is over and I have forgiven those who were so unkind to me. Forgiven, but not forgotten.

Since I am ready to return the murder mystery series to the library, I will drop them off outside and not be tempted to pick up another string of novels. Trimming down my diverse reading selections at this point is necessary, as I have found myself thinking in Bayou French (Ya-Ya) and trying to diagram the uses of the F-bomb. While I try to keep from coughing up a lung and push the fluids the distractions of too much input is slowing my recovery. Well, maybe not entirely, but my mind is really on overload at this point, so sleep is not coming as quickly as it should.

I must get back to the YA-YA's story, so until next time.

BINGO, PEEPS AND SLOTS:LOVE 'EM OR NOT

There were many things that I learned to appreciate from my mom. She was generous with herself; a hard worker; dedicated to her family; adventurous; and loyal to her friends. I not only admired these qualities, but I tried to make them my own. On the other hand there were a few areas of my mom that I never could quite grasp.

My mom was always very conservative when it came to spending money, as most of the people who survived the Great Depression are. With that in mind, or maybe because of that period of never having enough there were quirky things my mom did. She always washed and reused plastic bags, both the Ziploc and grocery kinds. Below her kitchen sink was an assortment of cleaned glass jars that she might "need" someday. She never met a store-package container that she couldn't reuse for some other purpose. Nothing was wasted with her when it came to food, clothing, or containers. This was just the way she was; waste not, want not.

Understanding how frugal she was might lead to a surprise if you saw her around Bingo Halls or Casinos. I went to play Bingo with her one time and found the whole experience confusing, frustrating and too challenging to keep up with all the scattered numbers. Finally, I slide her over my cards to finish the rest of the games and sat back to watch her in her element. It was amazing that at the close of the games she didn't even care that she hadn't won, she'd had a great time. She loved the challenge of keeping up with the caller and the cards in front of her. That woman's face would light up and a new energy enveloped her being.

We were taking a long road trip one time and her energy was waning, until we stopped at a casino to take a break. Before I could exit the car and help my "feeble" mom out of the backseat, she was nearly at the casino door. My husband and I could barely keep up with her. Putting the quarters in and pulling the handle melted the worries and age right off her. This was when I realized the simple joy my mom found in those one-armed bandits.

Right now, I am smiling remembering how I would pull up before dawn to her apartment and she would be waiting dressed in her "lucky" shirt with pockets to hold her playing money, fanny pack, sun hat, and a cooler packed with our traveling food. When you traveled with my mom, you were packed and prepared for anything and everything. Cold sodas, water (in those saved glass bottles), pretzels, sandwiches, homemade cookies, and other travel comfort foods were loaded and dispensed at whatever time we wanted them.

My mom and I took many trips to the casinos, so that she could stay up all night, play the slots, grab a couple hours of sleep, and give it another try on her "lucky machine" the next day.

During our trips home, she would entertain me with details of how close she had come to the big jackpot, how the person next to her had done, or on a rare occasion how she would spend her winnings once we got home. My huge jackpot was being able to spend time with her away from the everyday tedious duties and troubles.

Another thing that my mom loved, but sadly I didn't ever acquire a taste for was a seasonal treat. PEEPS intrigued me and my mom said she loved their texture, taste and colors. Every year I would try them and be disappointed. The gritty texture and overly sweetness were not to my liking. Peeps would remain an area that my mom and I had could never come to agreement. She loved them and could devour an entire pack in one sitting, while I would hand her over the ones in my Easter basket. She didn't seem to mind, at all.

I have come to the realization that I could adore my mom forever, while at the same time not adore all that made her smile. As long as I live, I won't be able to see a bingo card, slot machine or a simple PEEPS treat without thinking of my mom. Nice, sweet memories of a great lady.

NO CALENDAR NEEDED: I REMEMBER

As a nation we all have certain dates that bring back memories, some kind and some painful. We have December 7, 1941; July 20, 1969; September 11, 2001; and others that have remained in our hearts.

Besides these and other group dates, I have acquired some dates which have etched into my heart. I know that this isn't unique to me, as we all have our own milestones, but I wanted to share just a few of mine. Feel free to add any more that have caused you to become the person you are today.

May 1969: Graduated from the best high school that no longer exists.

May 1976: Received my Master's from the University.

March 1979: Met Mr. Right (and not just Mr. Right Now.)

July 1979: Married Mr. Right for me.

September 1981: Gave birth to our beautiful girl.

May 1982: Handed over our precious girl to the surgeon for major surgery.

May 2000: Our fantastic girl graduated from high school.

May 2004: Our stupendous girl graduated from the university.

March 2005: My incredible mom was released from her life of pain and suffering.

February 2007: Our remarkable daughter married her sweetheart.

September 2008: Our family suffered the effects of Hurricane Ike.

May 2009: Best souvenir from any cruise arrives--our grandlove.


Sure more happened before May 1969 and since May 2009, but I am not writing a book, just a memory jogging blog.

Thanks for joining me on this short jog.

MOMENTS: DejaVu

The last few days I found myself transported back to a much younger time in my life. Holding my grandlove and inhaling sweet baby smells emitted from the blond curls was all it took to ignite my time machine. Being the object of exploration of soft, gentle, probing fingers made my heart warm. Tickling my ears and checking out the details of my gown, the precious fingers caused me to smile. Meeting eyes contacted yesterday's child with today's new love.

When it came to feeding this baby, I found that interest in the spoon was sometimes not as strong as curiosity in surrounding items such as lights, reflections from mirrors, and unseen magnetic visual pulls. This interest in the world served as another connection to the past, as these distractions allowed me to understand the high level of awareness my daughter demonstrated at a very early age.

Inability in mastering traditional crawling techniques hasn't slowed this sweetie down in the least. Army crawling towards the pet dishes, dust bunnies under a recliner or other tempting "no-no" kept me alert to the stealth exploring of tiny fingers and waiting mouth. For now, the photo albums, magazines, and coffee table treasures are safe; however, soon they must find higher ground to stay away from exploring fingers and mouths.

Exercising all the muscles and brain powers zap the energy reservoir eventually and the fight to stay awake is a loud, defiant one. Convincing him to give in to the Sandman makes me chuckle, because his mom was a crusader against naps during her childhood. Her Nana would "trick" her into taking naps by saying, "You don't have to sleep. Just close your eyes for a little while." It worked like a charm every time and my daughter is amazed now, that such a simple trick worked.

Nanas have some special powers that others don't possess. How do I know? Well, now that I am a Nana, I have fought that resistance to naps and so far I am the champion. I'll let you know how it goes, as he gets older, but for right now, we cuddle and I convince him that it will be okay and I am still here and he nods off with a last futile attempt to stay awake.

I appreciate the feeling of watching all the milestones my grandlove meets, for with each one I relive the wonder of childhood all over again. I feel that being a grandmother is the reward for being a good mom, because I see what a wonderful mom my grandlove has. Recently, she hugged her young one to her breast and smiled, "I didn't know that I could ever love anyone as much as I love him."

My thought? "Now, she finally understands how much I love her." What a precious, unique feeling and blessing I have been given. All the gold, jewels, and money in the world cannot buy what I have earned, the love of a child and grandchild.

Thank you, God for blessing my family with love, compassion and appreciation.

Becoming "Enriched", while being "Poor"

Yesterday, I was reading the "blurb" by Diane Boyette about one of the reasons that VISD didn't dismiss classes early was that some children needed to be fed. She went on to say that they wouldn't eat any meals during the weekend. This started me to thinking about my own childhood.

During my early childhood I collected many great memories of playing outside, having friends, a warm house in the winter (Ohio does get very cold), plenty of food (even though some of it wasn't to my liking), and clean clothes. What I didn't have was a father for the first seven years. My dad left right after I was born and my mom moved with her two small children back home to help take care of her elderly parents and live in their three bedroom house with us. She worked long hours and my grandparents kept us until they passed away by the time I was four. Needing help with childcare, she paid a young girl to live with us and fill in when my mom's work hours would have left us alone, otherwise. Someone was there with us during the summer, whether it was an aunt, neighbor, or other responsible adult, because my mom was on her own to provide for her two children. I don't remember not having as much as other kids, but I know that we didn't. My mom made sure that she spent time with us reading, baking cookies, taking walks, visiting relatives, going to the zoo and other activities that enriched our lives. I now realize what sacrifices she made to make sure that we were well taken care of and I appreciate the extraordinary strength that she had to maintain a household on her own.

After the age of seven, my life changed with the addition of my step-father. We were uprooted from everything we knew and brought to south Texas. Talk about a culture shock. I had never seen any cockroachers, let alone ones large enough to carry a small child (you know those huge suckers that give you the willies when you come across them coming up your drain.) In the summertime I got heat rash so bad under my arms that I would try to sleep with my arms above my head, so the hot air from the fan would help to cool those spots. Hurricane Carla was the final blow to my introduction to the wonderful world of Texas. I was so ready to pack it in and leave, but when you're a kid, you're pretty much stuck.

In school things were strange, also. We would be lined up outside and as a teacher would walk along the row with her yellow pencil she would check our hair. (Found out later that this was for lice--which thank goodness I never got.)

If a student didn't use the word, "Ma'am" in the answer to a teacher, a sharp rap of a ruler on the knuckles taught you what was required. Up north, "Yeah" wasn't thought to be bad manners; it was just said. I learned, "Yes, Ma'am, Yes, Sir," very quickly.

Our income was greatly reduced throughout the years, because of many factors which were out of my control. I took my lunch to school (school lunches were too expensive for us) or I went home for lunch. In elementary, we were even allowed to walk home for lunch. Surprisingly, we made it home, ate and returned to school on time and unmolested. I remember that it was kind of shameful if you had to go home for lunch and couldn't afford to eat cafeteria food. But you did what you had to do considering the family's situation.

My mother sewed many of my clothes and that was for economic reasons, also. I didn't mind, so much, until one time when we were told to wear our Sunday's Best and a boy sneered at me, "So this is your Sunday's Best?" I am sure that my face was as red as the pretty corduroy dress that my mom had toiled so hard with. I told him it was and turned away, so I couldn't see him snicker to his friends. Kids can be so cruel. I never told my mom; in fact I even fibbed when I told her that everyone like my dress.

My shoes were bought at Payless, because you could get two pairs for five dollars or less. Payless wasn't a place that other kids' shoes came from, so my shoes were different and I stood out as a kid that couldn't afford the "norm." Knowing now as an adult the situation my family was in, I am grateful that I even had shoes. My mom wouldn't buy any shoes for herself, but she made sure that my growing feet were taken care of.

As I got older, the "wants" changed to records. All my friends had extensive collections and record players to boot. I remember my mom telling me that you could listen to the radio and all the records would be there. Finally, I had an album and I treasured it dearly. Before I graduated from high school, I believe I owned four albums, and an inexpensive record player by my bed. I would put the record on and I knew exactly which song was which band and I would carefully line up the needle with the blank band right before the song. My record player's arm always had coins taped to the top, because it would skip without the extra weight.

Some of my friends had fancy homes, cars and great clothes. I got along with my close group of friends and we would stay over at each other homes, no matter if there were enough beds for sleepovers or not. Life seem simpler then, and I guess it was. If a friend didn't have much, the others in the group just accepted that fact. Want to go to the movies? Don't have much money? Toss all the money together and guess what, everyone gets to go. Of course, movies were cheaper then, along with everything else.

I was taken care of by my mom, even though she didn't have a lot of money. We learned to play Canasta, board games, travel on a tight budget, and read. Library books were free and opened up worlds that invited me to explore.

I am grateful that my life was enriched by people and not things. I pray that I have done that for my family, also, given them the treasures of my heart and mind.