Going Home, Going Home

We really are headed in the right direction .... up I- 75 from

Ft. Myers to Ohio. We had an hour and a half delay outside of Atlanta, because some poor (probably old) dude had turned over in his pickup truck while hauling his vacation home. It took up a four lane highway and thousands of cars and trucks waited for hours. It sure seems that the Highway Patrol would reroute traffic or at least direct the mayhem created by such bad accidents. Next, we were toddling on down the road when the local radio station started telling us that there was a tornado warning for Big Booger, Tennessee and hail in French Gulp County. We knew that Texas had been having really bad weather earlier in the week and that it was moving northeast. So, I pulled out the map and discovered that we were only about fifteen miles from Big Booger and doubted our ability to find a safe place before Knoxville. Happily, we discovered a Days Inn in Oak Ridge with Hi Speed Internet. Tomorrow, we will be going home early in the day before the storms start up again. My "Honey" is as happy as a pig in mud, because the motel has FOX News and he hasn't seen a nice conservative newscast for six months. See you in Ohio!

Here we come, ready or not!

It's that time again ... the move back to Ohio. Everyone there tells me that it is colder that a witch's t** and raining, too. I am packing a big dose of sunshine in my suitcases and will treat all those Ohio Valley people to some rays. I have lain in the sun in two hour increments for the last couple of weeks. Most of the people here have glistening skin about the color of a kiwi without the fuzz. I, on the other hand have a collection of brown, red and white spots that sort of mimic a tan. I figure that when they all run together, I will look just like George Hamilton. My teeth will look like a string of pearls next to my beautiful brown skin. When my perfect house guest, Lesley, was here , we went to the pool every day for two hours. She got a wonderful tan ---- I got sun poisoning by the third day and spent the rest of her time here waving goodbye as she blithely sauntered to the pool. Of course, I have been a raving maniac trying to remember what I brought down here six months ago and why in the world would anyone in their right mind even consider bringing a couple hundred dollars worth of quilt fabric 1200 miles and never opening a single quilt book?

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that we are going to the land of civilization, where people actually wear appropriate clothes in public. No Capri's and backward ball caps for senior citizens there. Maybe, this is really more fun! See you in Ohio.

Home Sweet Home!

Spring Break in Ft. Myers

Springtime is beautiful in Ft. Myers. The weather is hot, hot, hot, the sand is white as talc and the water is warm. We wait all winter for these last few weeks in the tropics. Snowbirds tend to leave for home around the first of April and the college kids have been and gone by now. They leave in their wake locals who are underage and in jail for drinking and partying with the big time college kids. Our oldest daughter flew in the 30th of March for her Spring Break from school. She had been held hostage by a band of renegade third graders since last August. Here she was; free at last. If you really want to have a great house guest --- give birth to the perfect home companion. Her idea of a wonderful time was watching TV until the late news, reading until sleep grabs her by the eyelids, sleeping until she awakens of her own free will, more reading and a little counted cross-stitch, suntanning beside the pool, eating out and having her mom and dad sit and appreciate her presence. I insisted that we had to go out to Ft. Myers Beach, just for the sudden view as the crest of the bridge is reached and the Gulf of Mexico lies spread before us like a glittering jewel to be tucked away in the recesses of our memory until the next occasion to behold such beauty. We went after dinner and strolled along the beach as we awaited the sunset with many other romantics. Since I am an old lady, I plopped down on the sand --- it is so soft and white that it is a wonder that people don't try to bake bread with it. It is so fine and powdery --- it sticks to your bare feet, to your butt and hides in your pants pockets. I am not proud! In the presence of natural beauty, who cares if you get a little gritty?

As we walked around the end of the island through Bowditch Park, we came upon this image of family togetherness. Dad, Mom, one little girl with pink sandals and one tiny little girl with a white sandal at each end of the grouping left their shoes to wiggle their toes in the wonderful white sand. People scan the sand bars as the tide goes out and the sand dollars appear and occasional shells beg to be picked. Most people pick shells just to prove to themselves that they actually were here.

The daughter did her obligatory visit to the beach and crossed it off her list of things you have to do when in southern Florida. When you are the single mom to three grown sons, Spring Break means just that --- stop whatever you have been doing for so many months and flop until you are revived to go back and start all over again. I told this child when she was four or five and bored that once she learned to read, she would never be bored again. She took me at my word and has a Master's Degree+ in reading. She read three books while she was here, but I think she brought eleven or twelve. It's hard to believe that she is only a few years from retirement herself. After eight days of revitalizing sunshine, we took her back to the airport on Easter morning. She is back at her desk with her brood of nine year olds, but summer is only two months away and she will be able to recoup until next August.

Today, I made a zillion chocolate chip cookies to send to my grandson in the Air Force and I am starting to drag things out of their hiding places to pack for our return to Ohio. I just don't understand why we leave Florida when things are just getting really good here. I want a Spring Break!

On, No! Flamingos!

In the land of sunshine and blue skies, people in double wide, pre-fab homes (trailers in all other states) tend to put all sorts of junk in their front yards and flower beds. I have been guilty of being a lawn snob and snickering at the people who stick tacky junk out in front of their homes.
So, what did I do yesterday? I went out and bought a few things for our porch. It was the last place in our Florida home that was stark raving naked. My flamingos can be forgiven, because they are so tasteful and are not pinky-orange. Truly, they really are cute, aren't they? The colors are pretty and also, they match the fish I bought for the wall above the futon. ( That is the futon I had to buy for my grandson's visit) Today, I hit JoAnne's Craft Store and bought a vase and some greenery for the end table. We have owned this place for about eighteen months and I have just about run out of things to buy. I know we have run out of money. See, --- how cute is this fish? The shop in Punta Gorda is new and has a ton of adorable do-dads for around the house. How am I going to stay away from this shop when there are so many things I really, really want? Oh, well, I can't have

everything --- but, I have the flamingos and the fish!

For all the good, caring cyber friends I have out there, I have good news about my frizzies. I can manage my hair (the hair of the too tight perm). When my darling daughter gets here for her week in the sun, I'll swim and sun and my hair will be wash and go. (Providing that I get a quick trim next week) Have a great day y'all --- Spring is upon the land!

The Control Freak

This is not a very good picture, but it shows the true definition of a control freak or a true man's man. Notice that he sleeps. Also, notice that he sleeps with the T.V. controls balanced on his right knee, so nobody can change the channel while he is watching something really important through his eyelids. Husbands --- you just have to love them!

The Frizzies

The grands have been and gone for a week since their spring break here in the land of sunshine and alligators. We have a couple of weeks before our own firstborn will fly in for her spring break from teaching the third grade. The grand kids are fun, but I look forward to seeing my very own kid, because she will want to do the things that I love --- laze around the pool, get a tan, read some good books, go out for dinner and sleep late. While thinking along these lines, I started thinking that having to do my own hair every day after the pool would be a whole bunch easier if I had a perm and could let it air dry, then apply a curling iron. Keep in mind that I haven't had a perm in ten years and I have really thick hair, but my mind was remembering how cool the last one was. I would let it dry and then just brush the curls into place. Those days were before my "honey" retired and money was no object. I could go get my hair done all the time and a professional blow dry lasted forever. My frugal husband keeps telling me that he loves the way I do my own hair better than the salon dos. It occurs to me that he is cheap and wants to spend our money on frivolous things like --- uh, golf and buckets of balls. Is he cheating me, maybe? Ya, think? So, in the spirit of future savings, I decided that a perm today would save me hours of future work and only cost $85.00. When the little curlers came out, the stylist was oohing and ahing over my lovely curls and sent me to the dressing room to get my smock off and into my own clothes. Oh, for pity sakes! I looked like I had an Afro! Where were those lovely little ringlets that occupied my mind's eye? Tonight, I look much better after the application of a curling iron, but I know there are frizzies lurking under this thing. I'll know in the morning whether or not I have wash and wear hair for poolside or whether I will have to shave my head. How can you live this long and make such bad decisions?

Look Who's Coming to Town!

My blog has been temporarily put out to pasture. The reason for my lack of time is #5 grandchild. Spring break is upon us and the college students are winging their way southward. This cute, curly haired blond is the last of my oldest daughter's three boys. Her oldest is twenty-five and lives in D.C. He worked for Gov. Taft for three years and now is heading to graduate school for his law degree. We keep trying to talk him into coming back to the midwest and attending a local college, but the political bug has bitten and unfortunately there is no vaccine for that. Her second son is twenty-three, in the Air Force and has just completed eighteen months of Arabic language school and heading for something secret, but he is not allowed to tell us anything about his job. Luckily for the U.S.A., this guy would never tell anyone anything --- he is the original closed mouth dude. He says, "If I tell you, I would have to shoot you!" I believe he would do it. Lastly, we have her twenty year old guy, who works two jobs and is a junior in college. We have put everything on hold and have stocked up the fridge, because we get to see a grandchild and his lady friend for the next week. (She is absolutely adorable!) I have cooked and frozen until the freezer door won't close any more. He is a year older than this picture and has grown the scruffy hair stuff in the middle of his face --- people are calling him "McSteamy". because of the guy on Grey's anatomy. I'm excited to see them here in the land of sunshine and we will finally have an excuse to hit the beaches. Old people just don't go to the beach and flop on a towel, without an excuse. We have arranged for a boat trip out into the Gulf of Mexico for Sunday and I'm thinking of renting Segues over on Sanibel for some fun. If that doesn't pan out, we might go kayaking in Matlacha Pass. Anyone have any good ideas? After these kids leave, I have three weeks until the next spring breakers. If you want to see your children and grands, move to Florida and I guarantee they will come see you. Okay, Ryan--- hurry up!

The Best of Times

We moved to the country when our
youngest daughter graduated from high school. The other half had always wanted to own horses and take care of them himself. Our children were very happy in their school, so we waited until they were done with high school to build our country house and small quarter horse barn. We owned a few acres and had a pond for swimming and playing. The grand kids actually learned to water ski behind Sea-Doos in the pond. There is nothing like a small body of water in your back yard to soothe the savage beast. The sunsets were spectacular in the winter when the sun was in the southern sky and the big red ball reflected in the pond. Life was good and we were living in a style we had never dreamed of when we were young and very poor runaways to the closest altar. HRH (His Royal Highness) was in seventh Heaven with a couple of horses in residence. One of them was always expecting, so I should have foreseen the coming of more and more equine types. Eventually there were mares in every stall, with foals on their side and another one in the oven for the next year. I never thought I would be shoveling horse manure. The things we do for love! Our children started marrying within a year of the move to the country and the grand kids started arriving within three years. It was a wonderful place for the grandchildren to visit. There was plenty of swimming in the summer and skating in the winter. The horses had foals, the Australian Shepards had puppies and the calico cat was always having kittens in the loft of the barn. The little boys in the picture are my first two grandsons --- also known as the lights of my life. If I had known how I would feel about grandchildren, I would have had them first! Steven and Greg are standing in the doorway of the barn in front of the horse's treadmill. Did you know that horses have to be exercises on a treadmill when the sun is too bright and would ruin their hair coat? Our total number of grands ended with eight boys and two girls, but we have lost one little girl and one boy to birth handicaps. As they grew older, we added swing sets and volleyball to the yard and a large hot tub to the deck. The little guys thought it was great to "swim" in the hot tub at Christmas time. Soon, we had to sell the place in the country because as HRH says, "The mower broke". I was the mower and I developed asthma at sixty and could not continue mowing all the yard and pastures. But, the real reason was that the city was encroaching on our country life. People were paying outrageous prices for land and building mcmansions in the wheat fields across the street. There are times in your life when you suddenly have a revelation that it is time to sell, before you miss the golden opportunity to triple your money. We had nineteen years in our little horse farm and still tripled our investment. The only costs were taxes ---I don't think you can ever get away from taxes. My husband still wishes he could have a horse or two of his own, but we moved to the fifth tee of a golf course and they frown on tethering horses on the fairways. HRH thinks that those were the best of times, but I have loved every stage of this life we have shared together and today is the best of times for this day.

From Jury Duty to Nursing School

I was over at Matty's place (Running on Empty) and she wrote a great piece on Canada's hunt for a jury for a mass murderer's trial. They must find people who are capable of sitting on the jury for a year. He confessed to his crimes and has expressed no remorse for his multiple murders. The good citizens of Canada are to spend buckets of money for a fair and proper trial for this dude. Matty thinks that the only people who can spend a whole year on a jury are retired folks in good health and a few other assorted souls. If they seat enough people and then someone dies (old people tend to do that), they will have to start over again! Good Heavens! Most seniors really can't afford to give away a year of their pitifully short life expectancy. Personally, I couldn't sit still for whole days while the lawyers (or do they call them barristers there?) go through all the hanky-panky they learned in law school to get the guilty and depraved off. This is all a prelude to telling you about my experiences of being on juries.

I was called for jury duty when I was thirty-nine. I had been married for twenty-two years and had children who were a sophomore and junior in high school and a freshman in college. In those days, stay at home mommies were the rule rather than the exception. I made their beds, hung up their clothes, washed their nylons, ironed all their clothes, cleaned the house, cooked the meals and did the dishes for my husband and family. It was working very well, because my kids were very involved in their schools, sports, music, honors courses and worked in a restaurant. They all saved their money and totally paid for college themselves. We wanted them to have the very best experience in school that was possible, because I had been forced to do multiple household duties as a teen by the poor health of my mother. Then the summons for jury duty came! I panicked. How would my family get along without me for a whole week? How could I get up at the crack of dawn, get myself dressed, go downtown and still stay up late enough to maintain our home as we knew it? There are no excuses to get out of jury duty. If you were not ill and of reasonable sanity, you got the job. Off I went on the first day and found myself hoping that they would like me well enough to choose me for a jury. I believe we received $8.00 a day for serving. That almost paid for parking and lunch. Right away, I found myself seated on a civil jury. Oh, the joy of being in the middle of a real soap opera! The case consisted of a plaintiff charging that a cement truck had hit a car driven by an elderly man, who was taking a patient to a local hospital for a chemo treatment. This gentleman danced around at the scene while insisting that he was just fine and needed no treatment. However, the paramedics took him to the hospital with the injured woman. He sat in the waiting room of the E.R. for several hours, declining treatment and when the hospital got around to checking him over ---- they admitted him for observation, due to his age. Apparently, he suffered a blood clot in his leg that let loose and traveled to his heart. Dang! He died! Our feeling (in the jury room) was that he misled the medics claiming to be fine and the hospital neglected to diagnose him in time to prevent the embolism. The fact that the truck had actually hit his car did not cause his death, the delay in treatment caused his death. The accident was little more than a fender-bender. The lawyers wanted lifetime care for a retarded son, who was left after the accident and since the truck was from a large company, the lawyer went after everything they owned the big bucks. The jury decided that the request was outrageous and found for the defendant. Ironically, the truck driver, also had a handicapped son and would have lost his ability to care or his son, if we had given them what they asked. The dollar signs were positively rolling around in the pig's lawyer's eyes. When the verdict was read, the defendant cried and we were dismissed. As we tried to leave the third floor of the court house, the plaintiff's attorney was in the elevator with some of the jury. He started raging at our lack of compassion (his lack of big buck fees) and actually chased us down the sidewalks of the courthouse shouting, "Which one of you is going to take this man home and care for him for the rest of his life?" I was scared out of my skin. We told the judge the next morning about what had happened and they filed a grievance. The actual depositions from the jury took six months to get going and when they were done (parking, driving and lunch out of our own pockets) nothing happened to this attorney. I felt abused by the law.

The next two days, I was seated on a criminal jury. After the experience with the civil thing I was frightened to be on the second jury. It involved a black man who had been living with a black woman and had stolen her household goods one day while she was at work. The witnesses for the prosecution and the defense all knew each other and sat together outside the court and ate lunch together. It was one big happy family for everyone except the jury. When we returned a guilty verdict and started out of the courthouse, all the witnesses were laughing and scratching, while going down the sidewalks. I was seriously frightened to walk to my car. If they had started to yell at us as the civil attorney had, I think I would have gone back into the courthouse and asked the judge to walk me to my car.

The amazing part of this was the fact that I was able to get out of the house and into the world ---- and my family did not perish in my absence. This led to my husband making a call to the nursing school and getting an application for me to take the admissions test. I loved reading anything (medicine bottles, if I am detained in the bathroom) and have always been curious about medicine. But, I had married at seventeen ---- long before I knew what area I would have liked to study in higher education. If I were starting out today, I would head right for medical school. By being a wife and mommy for twenty two years, I had the best of young motherhood, and going to nursing school at forty made me an absolute fool for learning. I got the best grades and couldn't get enough of the books. The human body and the disease processes are fascinating. I have been retired from hospital nursing for almost ten years and still read everything I can get my hands on. I never thought I wanted to teach, but I love teaching people about their illnesses and treatments. Every family needs a patient advocate in the medical community and believe me, Florida is crawling with seniors, who don't know s**t from Shinola when it comes to their health. Their doctors never give them a reasonable explanation of their orders --- they need a middleman. I help neighbors here, because I was called for jury duty over thirty years ago.

I was called for jury duty again a couple of years ago. I spent the morning in a back room with the rest of the jury pool --- all the time knowing that I couldn't be on any jury in that case. It involved the Highway Patrol and my son-in-law (a Sergeant involved in the case) was going to be one of the witnesses, but I couldn't even tell the other jurors that I knew what the case was. After four hours of sitting in a crowded room, we were dismissed for the day --- the case was postponed and remanded over to a court in a different city. Never make the mistake of thinking that the law knows what it is doing!

Smack that Brat!

We were out in the car tonight, when the 6:00 o'clock news came on the radio. One of the items reached right out and grabbed me by the throat. It was the story of a three year old girl who threw a tantrum on an airplane that was about to leave the gate here in Ft. Myers. The parents could not get her to sit down and get buckled into her seat, so the plane could leave. Everyone must be strapped in for departure. The mother wanted to hold the child on her lap for takeoff and calm her down, which is against FAA rules. Every passenger on the plane was detained while this family demanded time to deal with their child, who showed no signs that she had ever been taught that certain rules govern public behaviour. I know it is considered bad form these days to use corporal punishment on children, but if a little smack had been used previously on this child --- she would have known who was in charge and could not have held a plane full of adults hostage. The airline finally had to remove the entire family from the flight and they had the nerve to complain. The airline did send them on their way on the next available flight and also gave them three tickets to anywhere in the USA for free! What? People are being rewarded for bad behavior? Get in line folks! The louder you scream and the worse your manners, the more you are rewarded, just to keep the peace. When I was a kid, I did get spanked by my parents, the neighbors, my teachers and any other responsible adult. I never had a ride on an airplane or was allowed to be loud in public or anywhere else. I was sometimes seen, but never heard. Most of my time was spent alone --- hanging out in the neighborhood. Come to think of it --- I literally hung out in any convenient tree! I listened to "The View" this morning and those four women of modest intelligence all supported the idea that children should never be hit. They were in agreement with the California Congresswoman, who has sponsored a bill forbidding
the spanking of any child under four. What do you do when your child has not learned by the sound of your voice
that something bad is about to happen?
They will not run into the street as a car approaches, if your tone implies that they are about to get a smack. They might think it is the "mother is at the end of her tether" and gonna belt me tone, when it is really the "look out sweetheart" tone that saves their life. Do parents of modern children not see the anguished looks on the faces of other adults when their child is raising Cain in public? We bite our lips in an effort to keep from yelling "SMACK THAT BRAT!" I am probably a throwback to the dark ages when we disciplined our children in love to "Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it". Proverbs 22:6 I believe that children are a gift from God and we are obliged to teach them the things that will make their later lives happy and fulfilling, instead of self-centered monsters. The day is coming when the government is going to decide our every step --- what we can eat, where we can go, what we can drive, where we can live, how much we must earn, how we can raise our children, et cetera. If I were young, I would think twice about bringing children into a socialist state.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Our dear friend, who has talked half the state of Ohio into moving to Florida for the season, if not the entire year, swears that this is Heaven on Earth and all cities have just as high a crime rate. The nightly news is full of mayhem and murder,---- old people falling into canals, children being snatched from their mothers' arms, horrific crashes on the Interstate, bank holdups, gang fights and multiple other items of good cheer and reasons to stay awake all night for protection. This friend says that it is our imagination when we claim that there seems to be more crime in southern Florida than in northern Ohio. It makes sense to me that crime in Ohio is not as prolific at this time of year. Burglars and felons are not completely stupid. Why freeze your tochas off, when you can have all the crime you want down here in your shirt sleeves? We live in a doublewide park for people over fifty-five years old. Translated --- a candominium for crotchety old people who insist that anyone under fifty-five is bound to be wild and stay up past 9:30, keeping the good senior citizens from sleeping with their riotous living. In the words of John Denver,---"The sidewalks are rolled up precisely at ten and people who live here are not seen again". We heard that a lady and her sinful live-in partner were robbed while they peacefully slept, blissfully unaware that a burglar had cut the screen and waltzed in through the window. On a nearby street, a lady was attacked in her bed ( a lovely euphemism for sexually assaulted), but we are to shut our eyes and pretend that all is well in paradise. We never locked our doors when we lived for nineteen years in the country to raise horses. Part of our certainty that we were safe was a pair of Australian Shepards, who roamed freely and were big enough to scare intruders away with a sweet snarl. I watch these older people keep their windows covered and private, while wondering what in the world they thought anyone would be interested in watching or seeing. The sagging bodies of people in their seventies are just not big on "peeping toms" list of fun things to do on Friday night.
So, we arrive at this night. The husband played golf today and then we went out with friends for dinner and back to their house for lots of laughing and scratching over some card games that only idiots would play. Since it was so much fun, you know where I stand on the idiot scale. Once home, my honey dropped into bed and I checked out a few blogs on my computer. While I was sitting here in my big terrycloth robe --- with the front window uncovered for the whole world to see --- I caught sight of a man out of the corner of my eye. He was just rounding the corner of our front porch and I thought perhaps he was the man next door, who is here just for a week with his little son and his mother. I tried to act nonchalant and got up from my chair, as if I were going for a Coke or some such inane thing. I thought I could duck into the kitchen and peer out a darkened window to make sure he was going next door, where they have the prerequisite security lights that all golden oldies seem to need. After disappearing around the corner of our doublewide, he ducked out of sight and the next thing I know ---- he was riding on a bicycle out into the street in front of our place. He was young, too young for this place. I feel like an absolute fool for sitting here night after night with my lovely Dell Laptop. You know---come rob me --- I am old and stupid. You all know what I have been doing --- sitting here typing away, while I wait to see if he appears again. I am trying to act as though I didn't really notice anything amiss, but inside --- I am scared and just awakening to the idea that times have changed and I have not kept up with the world. If I go to bed --- should I take the hammer or the big wooden spoon I used on my kids when they were naughty? As you can see, my choice of weapons is woefully inadequate very limited. Tomorrow --- I'm off to WalleyWorld for a gun security lights!

Strange Things are Happening

You just can't trust anybody these days! We left Ohio and drove to our place in Florida last week. When we arrived and walked in through the screened in porch, this was the sight that greeted us. Keep in mind that the doors were locked and the neighbor told us that he checked things four days before our arrival. We were really stumped --- thirty pounds of glass everywhere you looked. If you look closely, you can see a fairly heavy ceramic frog sitting on the under ledge of the table. He didn't have a scratch on him,--- just sitting there--- ribbit, ribbit! Oh, yeah --- that white stuff outside is not snow--- that is Ft. Myers sand. It's beatiful! After unpacking, getting settled in and wishing we had a snow shovel for all that glass, we started asking friends what could have happened. The apparent culprit was an airshow in Punta Gorda with four Air Force jets breaking the sound barrier over our place. The vibration of the jets made the heavy frog jump up over the umbrella hole in the table (the weakest point of the safety glass) and the thing just plain exploded --- showering the porch in little glass bits. We have spent five days looking for another table, but they don't like to sell them separately, so we had a Formica tabletop made yesterday and it matches the table legs. There's more than one way to skin a cat! I wonder if I can send the bill to the Air Force? It's great to be back in the beautiful weather and we just beat that terrible Winter ice storm that hit the country --- I guess I shouldn't complain about a little glass.

And a Happy New Year!

The excitement is underwhelming. I remember an old T.V. ad where the lady in question is trying to get out of going out with a real dork. So, she tells him she can't go out, because she has to wash her hair. Guess what I did on this night of joyous abandon? Right! I washed my hair. The husband is still hanging out in the LazyBoy and waiting for his last epidural, so we can run back to Florida. The translation is --- Holy Cow, I have to pack up again! Since we shouldn't be in Ohio right now, nobody thought to invite us anywhere. I think I'll pull out the party hats and bang on a big pot at midnight. Actually, I think I'll go back to my current book, while the husband is in the grip of yet another football game on his HDTV. The whole point of coming into my blog tonight is to wish all my blogger friends ---

A Very Happy New Year!

Christmas Fatigue with Google

It's simply amazing that we can spend every waking moment on preparations for Christmas, then awaken on the morning of the 26th with a feeling of letdown. The party's over! We have managed to live joyfully through another year of excess and fatigue. Three loads have run through the dishwasher, tablecloths and napkins are laundered and ironed, but the vacuum is still waiting to see whether or not someone will gather up the energy to push it around one more time. May I have this dance? Anyone may take the job from me, since I have given in to overload.

Yesterday and today have been devoted to switching my blog over to Google's new version. Since I am of the wrong generation to be a computer whiz, this was no easy task. I am thwarted at every turn. You can't have the name "Cookie's Oven" --- it is already taken. No kidding! I think I know who is hogging the name. You can't use that password to get into the new version --- you must use a Google account. What was that form I filled out for Google? They sent a verification, but forgot the housekey to my new home. Okay--- I think I've got it --- it took my identity and password, but sent me nowhere! Okay! I'll keep clicking on the faint white sign that says click here to continue --- nothing happens. So two hundred and three tries later, I decided to right click and try "open in a new window." Voila! Don't ask me why it worked, but it did. If anyone is able to read this post, it is proof that I still have a blog and it works --- just don't switch your account to the "new Google blogger" while in a state of Christmas fatigue. Wait until New Year's Day while you are hungover and it will be clear as mud!

Christmas Eve, at last! The family was at church for a lovely service. I was dashing about today like one demented. There was the church service this morning at 10:30 --- put on your best duds for the Birth of the King! Then on to the best grocery in the world to pick up our order for tomorrow's dinner. The husband is beginning to feel better, but I think I set him back a few paces with the grocery tape. ($303.00 for the meat, shrimp and a few last minute things.) This is the one meal of the whole year that our kids have looked forward to ever since I can remember --- so unless we can't pay the electric bill ...they will get prime tenderloin to celebrate the birth. After the grocery store, we had a precious hour and a half to get a few things prepared for tomorrow. The usual green bean casserole and the strawberry jello mold. (After all, Ohio is the Jello capital of the world) It must be because of all the church pot-lucks! Next came a great Thanksgiving dinner at our oldest daughter's house. We are all thrilled to see her # 1 son home from Washington for a few days and # 2 son home for the Air Force for a month. He just finished eighteen months of Arabic and a month of secret night training. He will be doing something that is so secret that he cannot tell us anything until 2029, when I am 93 --- what do you think my chances of ever finding out what he's up to?
After dinner, we ran home and did a few more chores for tomorrow's dinner and then flew out the door for the evening church service. It was a real blessing. One of the female singers is a very talented young mother/teacher who was one of our daughter's first third grade students when our Lesley started teaching.

She sang "Someday by Rick Vale"...

Someday, when this night is over and the star has faded, and the angels fly,
I will look on You with wonder dreaming of that first night, when I heard You cry....
Someday You will take these fingers, and with just a touch will cause the blind to see...
Someday, You will walk with strangers, but tonight I rock You, stay awhile with me....
Someday, they will call Him Savior, hope of all the people, Light and Life divine.
Someday, He will speak the words and touch the hearts of many as He touches mine.
You will speak in love and wisdom, prison doors will open, all will be made free.
Someday, You will walk among us, but tonight I rock you; stay awhile with me, stay awhile with me, stay awhile with me.

I am still floating on the miracle of God's love in the gift of His Son.

Merry Christmas to all! He Lives!

Traditions

If you look closely at this goofy reindeer, you might perceive that he is either very mellow or has been nipping at the eggnog again. His eyes have that look of....hic! hic!
Tis the season to be jolly....everywhere you go....oh, wait, that's a combination of two Christmas Songs and could confuse the best of music lovers. I have always had a passion for Christmas decorations and continually add to my collection. I take wonderful care of all my goodies and store them in plastic bins. Some of them even made the trip to Florida with me to decorate there. We didn't have a tree there, so I decorated a fake bamboo tree with gold bells and crimson berry chains. I made a bunch of great plaid bows and wired them onto the branches. Do you have any idea how crappy a bamboo tree looks trying to masquerade as a Christmas Tree? I took it all apart and am contemplating sticking up a tree with all my lovely ornaments now that we are back in Ohio. But, even though the spirit is willing.... the flesh is very weak at this moment and it sounds less and less appealing. I remember back when my in-laws were getting older and they settled for a little bitty tree on an end table.... I thought they lacked proper appreciation for the occasion and offered to trim a tree for them. They didn't want a tree! Now that we are getting older and our plans have changed for the season, we find ourselves in the position of appearing to have lost our love of the traditional things. The date on the calendar tells me that there is so little time to do all the things I once did with one hand tied behind my back. My parents were not big on Christmas, so I wanted to get my children into the habit of joyous celebration of the birth of The King. They have not failed me.... their homes are gaily decorated and the presents are wrapped.... guaranteed to please the grandchildren (I know, because they wrote their lists) and next Saturday is cookie day at my daughter's home. All these things used to be my purview, but now they are being taken care of by the next generation and I think this is what I wanted all along. It's nice to see the kids take up the reins and continue traditions. It's very nice to know that when the time comes, I can leave this world knowing that the kids will carry on with little pieces of me in their celebrations. Maybe someday my pretty ornaments will adorn another tree and a great grandchild will wonder who started the traditions in their families. Here's to the goofy reindeer ---- may he celebrate his way!

Whoops, He did it again!

I can tell that you are wondering why the snow and bare naked trees, when we are supposedly enjoying the sunshine and blue skies of southern Florida. Having bored the bejabbers out of all my friends and acquaintances for a couple of months while we packed up and raced out of Ohio, I am reluctant to tell yall' that he did it again. We have been enjoying the wonderful weather here for almost five weeks and suddenly "the husband" put his back out while remodeling the utility room. I have to put my reverse gear into action and start scouring the cupboards and drawers to see what we have to take back to Ohio for a month or six weeks. I am loading up the truck without the aide of the brute who is hanging out in the LazyBoy. It's time to call the utilities and get them turned back on and get appointments with the pain management doctor at home. We have been down this road before and I really think that I'm getting too old to pretend that I can handle this sort of thing by myself much longer. On the other hand, we will be home with our children and grandkids for Christmas. I think we should put in a fireplace at home --- I could keep warm and hang stockings, too! The question is --- do you think the big cities along the route home are ready for a little old lady driving a Ford F-150?

In Search of Colored Thread

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood and even prettier out over the Gulf of Mexico. The hubby played golf with a couple of friends. He left the car for me and I hot footed it up to Port Charlotte in search of thread. Thread? Don't they have thread in Ft. Myers? Yes, but this is special thread --- the kind that you use in embroidery sewing machines in a color palette to make any artist drool. Here's the problem --- before the hubby retired, he let me buy a super neat sewing machine that does everything but the dishes. I took a few lessons to become versed on the workings of the wonder machine and then promptly forgot everything I ever knew about it. Over the weekend, a couple of friends who are very good at utilizing their machines to the max took me under their wings and forced me to watch the accompanying video for my Bernina. One thing led to another and before I knew it, I was able to embroider an adorable mouse parachuting down on a falling leaf. Oh, how cute! If you spent over a hundred dollars on a computer card to do these cute little animals and have never even opened the card --- you better hustle along and learn how to use it. Now, I know! But, I didn't have the colors of thread (special threads) to continue this work before I forget how to work the machine again. Therefore, $117.00 for thread, so I can make good use of my earlier investment. I bet I never get the car again while he golfs. I'm dead meat! Next time I'll just do the laundry, hang out in the sun and get a tan or maybe actually use the machine and the lovely threads.

I Told You So!

I distinctly remember telling you that my husband of forever thinks you can pack for six months in Florida in a couple of hours and be out the door without a second thought to the details. I, on the other hand, agonize over the little things --- like we have shirts in the suitcases, but do we have any pants? Also, I try to take things out of circulation a couple of weeks in advance, so I can have them washed and ironed in time for the great journey. HRH (his royal highness) wants his things left intact for possible use right up until the last minute. Since I am the one who does the list making and packing, I thought he would humor me and use stuff that was not making the trip. I did tell you that he would get a couple of miles down the road before asking if his sunglasses were packed? He has his glasses, but today is Sunday and time for church. Dress pants? Check! Suitable shirt? Check! Dress shoes? Uh? I left them out for you to pack!!!! They are not in the closet? I left them out for you to pack!!!! Since we went through the whole house before firing up the truck, I'd be willing to bet he left his shoes in the walk-in closet in Ohio. For sure, they are not in Florida. Honey, would you like your Topsiders, sandals or tennies with that shirt? Perhaps next time, he will let me pack the essentials ahead of time. What a turkey --- and just in time for Thanksgiving!

The Addiction

I didn't know when I ran off and married the man that he was predisposed to an incurable addiction. Sure, he talked about his love for horses when he was a little boy, but don't all kids love horses? What I didn't consider was that his blind, unreasoning love extended even to the smell of manure, green hay stains on their teeth and brutally hard feet. Manure is not a real problem once you get used to it permeating everything about your life. I have been knocked down by a skittish horse while leading her out of the pasture and then dragged around the manure pile, because like a water-skier, I forgot to let go of the lead line. The poor little filly kept looking at me sideways and tried so hard not to step on me. Like the idiot I was, I kept hollering, "Whoa" in my most authoritarian voice. It is hard to be the authority figure while lying on the ground with manure streaks on you clothes and hair. The problem I had was with the smell of horseflesh on my husband's clothing and skin that came with the constant grooming and currying of his precious equines. When you raise horses for the show ring, your life is scheduled by the needs of the horses. Do they need feeding, exercising, grooming, breeding, veterinarian care,your life savings or any other myriad of things? The hubby would feed in the morning in his business suit and then cheerily head off to the office smelling of "Eau de Hors Hide". You may anticipate an evening out after the hubby gets home from work and has fed the gang in the barn, only to discover that one of their number has been secretly plotting all afternoon to develop a case of colic..... which will require a half gallon mineral oil lavage and being led around the paddock for a couple of hours. Horses who colic are not allowed to lie down until they have done their duty and produced a manure pile to prove that their intestines have not twisted in a volvulus. We all know where the wife falls on the priority scale with this warm pile of poo! Honey, would you like to take a turn leading him for a while? So, much for dinner out.
Vacations become trips to horse shows or a quick run to Texas to take your hot mare to visit that stud with a strong hip and long neck. Not only do they have the privilege of messing with your mare.... they get paid for doing it! Eleven months and ten days later, you find yourself hanging out in the barn at all hours of the day and night awaiting the birth of the new foal. You breed your mares in late winter or early spring, because you want your babies born as close to Jan. 1st as possible. We are talking AFTER Jan. 1st! If a baby should happen to hit the ground on Christmas, it would become a year old on Jan. 1st. All horses become a year older on that day and must compete with other horses in that age class, where the rest of the horses are eleven or twelve months old, but yours is only two weeks old chronologically. People who turn up at a show with a large, well developed weanling don't fool anyone.... everyone calls those babies "turkeys", because they were probably born on Thanksgiving and hidden in the barn until January.
It all started when I was in nursing school (at forty years old) and was studying every night. My poor husband was so bored and I was up to my eyeballs trying to study and keep up with a bunch of eighteen year olds. We were sitting on the front stoop looking at the stars one night when my honey said, "I've always wanted a horse of my own." Like my brain was in the off position, I replied, "So, go buy one and board it somewhere." I think the actual purchase happened the next day.... there just happened to be a gelding offered for sale in the newspaper and BAM!... we sold the house, bought acreage in the country and started
building a home and barn in the outskirts of town. I won't lie and say that I didn't like the country or that I didn't like having a few horses in the backyard, but a very wise patient at the hospital said, "Never add onto your barn." Owning a couple of nags only lasted until his first foal won the Michigan Breeder's Futurity. The addiction was on and he wanted more and more. Every stall was soon full and the mares had babies in the stall with them and they were pregnant for the next year. Where where we going to put them? The little voice in the back of my head said...."Never add on to your barn!" I threatened to leave home if some of the babies were not sold and pronto! He did sell the ones that didn't appear to be winners and bred for more. I did love the babies.... they are born and are standing up within an hour and are nursing within two hours. If you spend time in the stall with them, they begin to think that if you are not their mother.... you are at least an aunt or uncle. You have about ten days before they start getting teeth and will suck on your fingers just like human babies. My husband handled them from the first minute when he pulled the amniotic sac off their faces and they followed him around like puppies. He would run his hands over their backs and legs to get them adjusted to standing in the show ring and having their legs placed in a show presentation. One newborn kicked out with a quick flick of his back leg and broke my husband's baby finger the first day of it's life. It didn't matter... he was mainlining on horse manure by that time. He was fortunate to win many state futurities and made money from the shows and the sales, selling to breeders in Mexico, Venezuela and even Terry Bradshaw.
Then, the time came when we were getting older and keeping a small horse farm became more than we could handle. He says we had to sell the horsefarm, because the mower broke. I was the mower and I got asthma. The day we moved away, he sat on the picnic table and stared out at the pond.... I know there were tears in his eyes, but did not go out and let him know that I knew how hard it is to break an addiction. They don't make equineaderm patches for people who can't get the love of horses out of their veins. He still dreams of possibly owning just one mare to love, but I know the secret....never add on to your barn.... and our barn door is locked.

At Last!

Okay, so I've been bending your ears about getting ready for the land of sunshine for the last month or so. We left the cold, gray skies of Ohio last Thursday at 8:00 in the morning and then drove for nineteen hours straight. Here we are a few days later and the sky looks the same as Ohio --- gray, leaden and rainy. And I am gray, leaden and rainy! I loll about on my bed like Cleopatra on her barge. Not young and lovely, but stricken with bronchitis and nasty of temperament. We have sustained ourselves on the bags of food that we brought from home, because I was not feeling like fighting the crowds at a grocery. Last night, we ventured out to the local Taco Bell and grabbed a quick couple of tacos, while trying very hard not to cough and give away the fact the a veritable Typhoid Mary was in their midst. The couple in the next booth placed a gray gunny sack on the table and kept feeling it in a very peculiar manner. The hubby said, "I think there is something alive in that bag". I eyeball the bag and look at the size of lumps therein --- too small for a kid, not noisy enough for a small animal ---- Hmmmm! Could it be a snake? A very big snake? In Taco Bell? And I am worried about taking my bronchitis out in public? You bet your life, it was a boa constrictor --- very big and very beautiful --- but not something you would find in your everyday Taco Bell in Toledo, Ohio! The folks in Florida do things differently from nice, middle class mid-westerners. I'm not talking about their tattoos or multiple piercings, but snakes on the dinner table? The young couple were very obliging and opened the bag to show us their lovely snake. I was impressed! I was also out of there!
This was the second snake we had seen since setting foot on Florida soil. Numero uno was a thin black snake about twenty inches long in our flower beds. This whole thing does not sound like the paradise I have been promising myself while I worked so hard to pack up and get here. Perhaps tomorrow, the sun will come out and I will feel differently about the gray and the snakes. On the positive side, the plants we stuck in the ground last summer have grown four or five times their original size and the living is easy.
We already have two or three sets of guests coming down for Spring Break, but Christmas is still up in the air. The picture at the top is my forty-six year old daughter at Ft. Myers Beach last spring. So, if you are reading this and are related to me --- come on down! The weather is bound to clear up any minute.

Lately, All I've Got Is Leaving On My Mind!

"Sunshine, blue skies, white sand by the mile" --- that's a line from a song on "The Golden Girls", but it's true! Unfortunately, the traffic is as plentiful as grains of sand on the beach. Snowbirds, such as I, crowd into the state along with several hundred people, who are moving there weekly. We are in search of warmth from the sun to keep our bones from barking at us when the frost is on the pumpkin. The prospect of SAD (seasonal affective disorder) looms on the horizon as the gray skies pile up along the edges of Lake Erie and our moods become a pile of gray lumps. I really believe that I could stand to hibernate indoors, shut the drapes and pretend that the snow is not there, but instead --- somewhere over the North Pole --- way up high. I can be satisfied with quilting, reading and blogging, whereas my darlin' husband would go round the bend if there were no golf club in his hand or halcyon days loafing around the pool or just plain sitting on his porch and watching the world of geriatric strollers with similar ideas. Every time we make the shift from one state to the other, we get about four months under our belts and then thoughts drift to our other home and we start yearning to be wherever we are not at the moment. The advent of cell phones has made "reaching out and touching someone" so easy, that we don't even miss the kids too much and they can visit --- if they bring enough sleeping bags.
One of our close friends called from Ft. Myers today to say they were cooking out and we could come on over. That really stinks! It is really chilly here in Ohio and he was just rubbing it in --- like SPF #15 onto my goose pimples. There are so many things to be accomplished here --- like trimming the flower beds down for the year, washing and storing the porch furniture and making to do lists for all the things we need to haul back to Florida for the winter. Talking about that porch furniture on the deck --- a crazed squirrel has attacked one of the cushions on the wicker loveseat and pulled the foam rubber out. He is going to be really constipated if he is eating it or he is going to have a lovely soft nest for the winter. The chipmunks have headed into their burrows and are harmonizing to "Christmas, Christmas time is near", you know--- Alvin and his bunch? The leaves have been dropping quietly to the ground without as much fanfare as usual. The fall colors have been muted this year as though someone gave the signal that there should be no riotous colors before we dissolve into the world of winter white.
Some time has passed since I first started on this post and I find myself with one week to cram all the last minute stuff into the few short days until we leave. We went out and voted by absentee ballot yesterday and got new driver's licenses. The husband is getting some shots into his knee to stave off total knee surgery. If it didn't hurt so much, I'd think he was just hogging all the attention. We celebrated our fifty third wedding anniversary on Tuesday and he claims he brought me a present. He proudly showed the kids his big purchase --- a new toilet seat for the guest bathroom--- for me? You have to be kidding, Charlie --- I was thinking of something with class. He has been talking about another set of Taylor Made Golf Clubs to leave in Florida and I am not in the least in tune with that. He has been through several brands of clubs and still has a couple of sets that he doesn't use. Golf widows never mind the purchase of a single club --- even when it is his sixth putter and he is only allowed to carry one putter at a time on the course --- but another whole set? Get real! It is so cold outside tonight that I am anxious to finish the housecleaning, packing and move on down the road to the land of milk and honey or beer and chips, just as long as it is sunny and hot. My daughter-in-law has been over and cleaned out my excess food purchases. Why is it that I still think I am cooking for an army and buy as though the grocery stores are going to close suddenly? But, I will arrive in Florida and immediately head for the closest grocery to stuff my pantry there. I will just pretend that I am prepared for the next hurricane. The truck is packed, the house is cleaned, the doctors have given us prescriptions to last us for six months ---look out Florida --- another pair of snow-birds are exercising their wings for the flight to paradise. Woo Hoo!

The Only One --- Therefore --- Priceless

This is Lacey. She is one of my eight grandchildren. We have seven great boys and this one lone girl. (Thank You God! for finally sending one.) This was taken at six years old and she is now fifteen. She is still beautiful and priceless in every way!

Lovely Tradition

This is a quickie post about a lovely tradition. Our pastor and his wife came to our church twelve years ago.
They were the parents of three married daughters, who were all flight attendants. None of them had any children. Now, twelve years later, there are twelve grandchildren and we come to the tradition. When one of the girls is expecting the stork, Grandma buys a large handkerchief from a bridal store (we found the last one online). She gives it to me, because she is craftily challenged and I have made everything from suits, quilts and wedding dresses to these adorable bonnets.
I fold the back edge to form a casing and stitch with a long machine stitch, then run a silk ribbon through the casing and tie it into a bow. Then, the front edge is turned back and I embroider silk flowers (in the proper boy or girl color) and tack them over the silk bonnet strings. This little number is the last one I made (hopefully, the very last) and is pictured adorning a head of lettuce.
Oh, yeah, the tradition --- the new baby wears this bonnet home from the hospital and it is then put into the babybook. When the child marries, the stitching is picked out and the bride carries the handkerchief down the aisle. If if is a boy child, his bride carries it. My friend, the pastor's wife, has given these as gifts and has actually seen the tradition fulfilled. I hope I live long enough to see one of this "holy dozen" carry my handiwork down the aisle. They can leave the lettuce in the kitchen.

Just Curious

Big Dave of Blogger fame commented that he wished he were a robin or even a goose and could fly south with all the migrating snow birds. True, I am pulling things out of their hiding places and starting to pack for the other half of our year, but the only thing a robin packs is it's belly. They are fat as the proverbial Christmas goose, in anticipation of winging southward for a few rays while the rest of the world freezes their tail feathers in the north. I just noticed something peculiar about several of the robins hopping around on our deck and pecking away at the seeds we have thrown out there to assist them in their carbohydrate loading before the big trip. A bunch have gray feathers mingled with their red breasts. Are these the senior citizens of the bird world ? If, so --- how are they going to make the long trip with aging wings? We, too are carb loading (I just frosted a ton of graham crackers to get rid of the last of my five pounds of frosting), but I am not planning to flap my arms all the way to Ft. Myers. The robins are the lucky ones --- they don't have to drag their golf clubs, or sewing machine and clothes for any and all occasions. I am just curious to know if birds camouflage themselves with scattered gray patches to blend in with the drab winter colors? If that is the way it works, then HRH and I are going to blend in perfectly with the other golden agers, who live in tin cans and eat early birds every night for dinner.

The Time Has Come

"The time has come," the walrus said, "to speak of many things --- of shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings." Summer just arrived three weeks ago. Then, the autumnal equinox came and certainly there must be more to fall than three weeks. Last night, Buffalo, N. Y. got twenty-two inches of snow. Really --- truly! My mind cannot curl around the thought of all that snow, now that we no longer snow ski. Those were younger, more pliable times --- when bones did not cry out in dismay at thought of shishing down a mountain or more accurately falling down a mountain with the tips of my skis stuck six inches into the snow, while I lay prone beneath the chairlift. I can still hear the sweet young thing (all of nine years old) offering to help, while overhead cute ski bums hollered out words of encouragement, e.g. "Looking good' --- "Wait for me and I'll help you when I come down." I was looking about for the St. Bernard with the keg of whisky and Lord knows ---- I don't even drink! So, here we are with over two and a half months left to enjoy the beautiful fall season and someone is pushing for an early Christmas. The maples outside our deck are still green. I cannot wait for their glorious red season, but the sudden cold has caught them by surprise. Could they be kidding us about global warming? I digress from my original point, which is, that the time has come to start getting all uptight about our move to the sunny south. My darling husband sees to it that the car or truck is ready and he does most of the driving. This leaves me more to do than I even care to contemplate. Tonight I finished piecing a quilt that I need for our bed in Florida --- all 2689 pieces.
Tomorrow, I will take it to the machine quilter. I called her a month ago and put my quilt in line to be processed, even though it was in pieces at the time. The pressure to be ready on a given day makes me want to dive into bed and accomplish nothing. One thing I could do is quit reading the blogs of the wonderfully talented people here in Blogspot, but they have brought new life to this old heart. Throughout my lifetime, my compulsive listmaking has kept me sane and helps me remember most things to keep everything running smoothly. The list will look something like this:

1. Take the teaspoon I inadvertently brought home in the spring --- it matches the silverware I bought for down there.
2. Take the CD box for our personal CD that our daughter made for our 50th anniversary and we left in the T.V. in Ft. Myers.
3.Sort through the Christmas decorations and decide how I will decorate the tree, if HRH (His Royal Highness) lets me buy a tree.
4.Try to remember which clothes I left there (Why didn't I make a stupid list? )
5. Dig up all the rechargers for cameras, cell phones, razors and the cords for the computer.
6. Go through all the file cabinets and pull out any pertinent papers we might need to file our income taxes. Put important stuff in the fire box or the safe and tell our trusty son where everything is.
7. Turn off the phone, computer, cable T.V. here ---reverse in Ft. Myers. Also, unplug all valuable appliances against power surges.
8. Go through our closets before next Friday and stick the stuff out for the Easter Seal Pick-up. I'm thinking I need to part with a bunch of junk, before I die and my kids are forced to do that which I have been putting off. I don't think size 4 will ever come my way again --- unless I get cancer or anorexia.
.9. Take extra pads of checks and notify the bank that I might be transferring money from other computers this winter. (They now register the computer I.D., besides the user I.D. and password)

The list will get longer and longer as the next two weeks go on, but one thing will surely happen. We will get into the truck (Ford F150 with heated seats) and about 15 miles down I-75, HRH will say, "Did you bring my sunglasses?"---and I will kill him!

A Boy in Trees

Sunday, September 24, 2006

A Boy in Trees
There's a new show on T.V. this year called "Men in Trees". I watched it and discovered that they literally meant the men were in the trees. You know, lumberjack types overhead trimming the branches from the fir trees. Today would have been my parent's seventy-ninth wedding anniversary. I wanted to write about my dad and the unusual life he had. The first thing that popped into my head was the tree thing, so----

Dad was born December 3rd, 1897 in Jonesboro, Arkansas somewhere in the middle of eleven children. Being a very bright little boy, he finished elementary school at twelve and then quit. Quit? He left home and joined his father in the logging camps of Arkansas to help support the family. He was "A Boy in Trees" for four years, until the thirst for knowledge overcame him and he left for the big city. He stuck out his thumb and hitch hiked to Toledo, Ohio where he had cousins, who would allow him to live with them. Between sixteen and nineteen, he attended high school, played football and supported himself in assorted jobs. That was just the first step toward an education. After high school, he began college at the local university and worked for a small newspaper as a reporter, doing a little bit of everything. Also, he worked at the original Jeep production plant.
After getting a degree in education and he started law courses by mail from the University of Chicago and night classes at The University of Toledo. He met my mom and they married somewhere in the middle of law school. The five children arrived starting in 1928, ending in 1936. Great timing--have a whole brood of children during the "Great Depression"! I suppose they had it much better than most people, because as a public employee --- he was paid in script. He had started teaching high school classes in English, Economics, Sociology, Auto Mechanics and World History the day the doors opened to a brand new school and he was coaching football at another high school for free. Because of the children, his law degree was delayed to the point that he could not afford to open an office and give up the safety of the teaching job.
I know he had become a flaming liberal during his college years and yearned for a world where there was no poverty or inequality. He loved to teach about the problems of the world --- we were served history and English with every meal. It was a mistake to ask a question --- that led to a half hour of explaining the hows and whys of the subject. He was active in the union fight at the Autolite Company in Toledo during the depression. This fight made national news for it's bitter physical battles between union loyalists (imported thugs) and the company hierarchy (more hired thugs). About a year after I was born, his picture was all over the local papers and he was temporarily suspended from teaching for reported un-American activities. The problem was that he was now legally an attorney and was busily forming The Federation of Teachers locally. That was the first teacher's union to hit the scene. The fact that he was a card carrying Socialist didn't help a bit. I get the picture of a bunch of young men sitting about and dreaming of how they could make a utopian society where all would have equal status. I wonder how they could have desired to elevate people who did little to help themselves to the level of those who had worked so hard to educate and sustain themselves? He was reinstated to his teaching job after a few months, but still believed that somehow life should be made easier for the downtrodden.
Dad had his office at home and after dinner at night, there was a steady procession of people needing basic legal advice or just wanting to sit at the feet of the master of dreams. People came and went, but if they didn't ask how much for a legal service---- they never got a bill.I watched as he built our home with his own two hands, because he couldn't find anyone who would rent to a family with five kids after WWII. He cut down trees and put through two roads nearby for a share in selling the property. Funny, that sounds amazingly like capitalism at it's best --- diametrically opposed to his share and share alike philosophy.When he died at seventy-eight, this little Ozark boy held a Degree in Education and a Doctorate of Jurisprudence. He was a wonderful and caring man, who built a great life and a terrific family. His name was Clyde and he was "A Boy in Trees".
posted by Kacey @ 4:54 PM 1 comments

Party on Down

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my confusion regarding the marriage of my deceased brother's widow. How would I feel knowing that she is no longer related to me, but to a whole new family? The wedding was last weekend and we did travel a couple of hours to attend. Since they are an older couple with children and grandchildren, I thought it would be a simple affair with a bit of family present. Not in this world, Charlie! Two hundred and fifty guests at an exclusive club, with crudities and cocktails before a dinner of filet mignon, turkey, roast pork, a pasta buffet table, a salad table and fancy little dessert goodies followed by dancing the night away was their idea of a little wedding ceremony. It was a really nice affair and I only had a couple of hard moments. The first one was when she passed from my brother's last name to the new husband's last name. The second was as the couple sealed their vows with the marital kiss and I missed my brother terribly at that moment. The funny thing was that her maiden name was Elizabeth Stone and in marrying this man, she became Elizabeth Fieldstone (pseudonyms, but you get the idea). It really was a lovely wedding and must have cost an arm and a leg. Elizabeth looked radiant and very happy. I enjoyed seeing my nephews and their young families and am happy to report that the new husband is a really nice guy and good looking, too. I knew he would be, beause she has good taste. She married into our family, didn't she? We met her intended as he was entering the building to dress for the wedding. I shook hands and said, "I guess, if you are marrying my sister-in-law --- you will be my new brother-in -law!" My world remains unchanged and I sincerely hope that her world has changed for the better. God intended that man have a helpmate... life is meant to be lived in pairs.

The Apnea Machine

Last week, the husband went to the Apnea Clinic and according to their standards --- he flunked! I've been hearing from friends in real life and in the blogashpere that many people are having this same testing done. Also, many people are getting hooked up to the machines every night for the rest of their lives. The thing is --- you might be saved from an early death from respiratory arrest, but you might never sleep again. Who had the bright idea to strap a moist air machine to your head with it's mask stuck up your nose and a hose leading to the machine? Can people really sleep like that? Maybe they can and thus arrive at the REM state of sleep, but their bed partner might never sleep another night. If it gets twisted or loosened or any other advent during the night --- it begins to sound like a circle saw bent on adding a new room onto your bed. Someone is getting rich! The husband is managing to sleep eight or nine hours, but the REM stage is elusive at best. I, on the other hand, have been hiding my head under my cuddle pillow to shut out the wooshing and squealing noises and after about four hours, am up and pacing the floor, flopping on the couch or watching T.V. in the LazyBoy. Last night, or rather at 4:00 this morning, I had a full blown panic attack. The only other one I ever had was over ten years ago and I recognized it immediately, this time. But, when you have been married forever, you don't want to start sleeping in another room. If I thought that this get rich quick machine would really keep him from dying, I would go quietly into that dark night and let the machine win. However, he doesn't feel any less sleepy in the daytime and his nose hurts from the strap and I am so tired! The newest feeling is atrial fib several times a night, because what he really needed in the first place was a pacemaker to speed up his old heart. I can't say anything to him about the pain in the arse machine, because it would look really tacky to stop him from using the machine and then have something happen to him. Now, he is saying that he wants to go to Florida and forget about the whole thing. How can doctors become such a force in your life without your permission? Stay tuned --- I might get out the sledge hammer and smash that thing!

Thanks for the Memories

Tonight, my darlin' husband is sleeping away from home. No, he's not messing around, he's sleeping at an apnea center to record why his heart rate drops to the low 30's during the night. I think he's just lazy and doesn't want to expend enough energy to get his ticker going any faster. The problem is --- we've been married so long that I can't sleep when he isn't home. I've been sitting here reading some wonderful blogs and looking through some of the pictures I have loaded into my folders. The picture on the left is one that was taken at my Junior Prom. The interesting thing is that the cute guy with me was not my boyfriend. He was my older sister's steady in high school until they both went to separate colleges. She met another dude at the local college and ditched this great guy. This wonderful young man was so sweet to me. I didn't have a date for the big prom and he was a fantastic dancer, so I wrote him a letter and asked if he would take me, providing I bought the bid and he would be home from Ohio University that weekend. He obliged me and we spent a super evening talking about my sister! (He still couldn't get her out of his mind)
His willingness to escort me was a great break for me. My classmates did not vote on a queen of the prom --- that was reserved for the Senior Prom. Instead, the dance band picked three Sweethearts of the Prom and surprise! They picked me to be one.
I know they noticed me because of this young man's dancing! He was really great on his feet and I was able to follow him(like a brother). I'm not writing about this to pat myself on the back, but for the big kicker of the whole deal. He took me to two big dances that year and I have pictures and nice memories of those times, but the big deal? He turned out to be a movie producer in Hollywood! My husband and I were invited to his wedding in Scotland, but could not attend because I was busily having babies every year for a while. It's fun to look at old pictures and think --- I dated a big wheel Hollywood type, even if he really had a thing for my sister. Thanks for the memories, Wayne.