Feliz Cumpleanos!

Today is the birthday of our first daughter. She taught herself to read at age 3 1/2 and has not slowed down one bit since then. In fact---awesomeness in a career---she is a university librarian! Isn't that great? I can hardly think of a better career for one so dedicated to the written word.

When she was about 10, she came to me and asked if I would write a note for her to the city library. It seemed that because of her age, she was only allowed to check out books from the children's section of that library. She needed parental consent to get books from the adult section. She explained, "I've read all the books in the kid part." I don't think it was an exaggeration.

She also excelled in school, by design. Every subject wasn't easy for her, but she was determined, and therefore succeeded.When she was in third grade, we attended the local high school commencement to cheer on her piano teacher--a graduating senior. Reading the program, our daughter asked me what "valedictorian" meant. When I explained, she matter-of-factly replied, "Oh, that's what I want to be." She didn't quite make it, but only because the three people ahead of her (her good friends) were able to take extra credits that our daughter wasn't able to, due her willingness to attend early-morning seminary instead of the extra credit classes. She did, however, earn a full scholarship from the university of her choice, and they also paid for her to complete a master's degree. 

She has this same devotion to excellence in other areas of her life. Sports related activities were often a challenge, that not being her natural inclination. So, after spending more that two summers trying to conquer beginning swimming, she determined that in high school, she'd join her brother on the swim team. It's not that she was so good, but because she wanted to get better. And she really did. She worked hard and, while not becoming a medal winner, she did become a confident swimmer, and that was her goal all along.

She took Spanish in high school and college. Then she served a mission in Madrid, Spain, and became a fluent speaker, reader, and writer. One of her two bachelor's degrees is in translation, and the master's degree is in Spanish literature. She worked for a public library before working at the university, as the person who helped anyone who needed help in Spanish. I know she can also get along in Italian, speaking and reading. Literacy---it's her thing!

I could go on and on...but it's time to post cute and/or embarrassing photos!  Hope it's a great birthday! Eat cake! (She a fabulous cook, too.)

 

 Seven candles on this cake!

She was saying to Dad, "Take a picture of this!"

 

 On the carousel in San Diego

Just one of many awards for being a great student.

Receiving the Citizenship Award at 8th grade graduation. This fellow was also her customer for the paper route and he was big fan.

Reading is much more important than putting on your clothes.

 

Books were a omnipresent accessory.

(She gets this trait through the the gene pool, by the way.)

Another great obsession is the ocean and sea life.

Whale watching....

 

Whale hugging....

 

Comparing herself to a whale.

She visited us a couple of years ago on her birthday and we feasted. 

Now she has her own adorable little family! Where does the time go?

Happy Birthday!!

In Honor of Baseball Season

My dad was a big sports fan. He loved to watch boxing, horse racing, football, basketball, and baseball on T.V. He also liked to go to high school football and basketball games. My two brothers wrestled in high school (state champions both of them) and my dad always drove the bus on their "away" matches just to be sure he got to watch every one. Sports were playing in our house quite often. So, you'd think that some of that would rub off on me, huh? Nope...not a bit. A couple of my sisters also enjoyed watching with him. They knew who they wanted to win; they knew the team names and the stars of various sports teams. Me? Nada. Zip. Nothing. Zero.

I managed to grow up without following any sports teams at all. I went to high school games to see my friends. Sure, I sat in the cheering section and was even a member of the pep club in my cheesy outfit. But, I rarely knew what was going on out there on the court or the field. I even played basketball with my church girls. I was a pretty good foul shooter, but I still, today, cannot dribble the ball and walk/run at the same time. I played softball with the girls at church, too. I was usually catcher because I could squat indefinitely (cow milker skills) and I could at least throw the ball back to the pitcher fairly accurately. I liked horse back riding, bicycling and swimming.

I finally learned the rules for baseball watching my sons play Little League. I next learned all the rules for football watching all the high school games I attended to watch my sons in the marching band. I've never enjoyed watching sports on T.V. except for the Triple Crown horse races. Which brings me to the purpose for this post.

Many years ago, (early in 1979) when I had but two small children, I appeared on the T.V. game show "Password Plus." It was a hoot! My partners were Betty White and Dick Martin. I won several games, and ultimately won the big prize and got to be the champion for a week. (It was all filmed in a single day.) Recently, CoolGuy found the reruns of several of my shows on YouTube in a Betty White tribute series. I present for you my fabulous tribute to Sports!! (look closely at Dick Martin's face after I utter my clueless remarks...and listen for Alan Ludden to confirm my amazing ignorance.)

Open this link and watch me here.

 

 



Hanging With Cool People

What an exciting evening we had in Fabulous Las Vegas! Our son is the sound technician for Future Islands. They had a gig in town last night and we went. They were coming up from L.A. and so, having to drive across the whole city before they could get out of that giant traffic whirl, arrived quite late in town. So, our original plan to meet for dinner was scrapped, and we hooked up around 9:30 downtown.

It had been a short night and a long crazy day for our son. The opening act had lost their bass player due to a family emergency, so that fellow really needed a substitute to help him. Our son is a bass player in his own group, so he was the perfect solution. However, that meant that he'd stayed up quite late to practice, and as they trudged their way through the traffic on their way to Vegas, he'd scrunched up in the back seat of the van practicing on the guitar. Improv! A key to a happy life in the music business is flexibility.

We spent about an hour with him over some Thai noodles, then he went off to perform in the opening act. We watched from just below the stage as he did his first gig with this other group (actually, one other guy on a drum who sometimes sings, sometimes shouts, sometimes shouting/singing).  It was terrific! The audience was there for a good time, and they were having one!

So, there we were, geezers in a crowd of hipsters, surrounded by people mostly younger than our own children. We were having a great time! I mean, here you are, watching your son succeed wildly in his chosen career. He not only can do the job he was hired to do, but also jump right in and perform with another group on a short notice. Here's a couple of photos of the bass playing.

 

 Yes, I'm hobbling around in a cast still, so I found a pile of crates right under the stage and I built myself a little seat, right there beside/behind him.

 

Then, they set up for the main attraction. I was chatting with a woman who'd been staring at me over and over, but finally came over to let me know she wasn't mean. As she approached, I asked, "Do we know one another?"  She confessed that her husband often told her that she stared too long at people...and yes, she was busted. She asked me if I was related to the lead singer of the main group. She pointed out our resemblance of dimples and round cheeks. I agreed with her, but demurred as I said my son was the bass player from the previous group, and worked as the sound tech for the group she had come to see. Then, we chatted about a number of fun topics---they were from Boston and just come out to Vegas for a little vacation specifically because this was the week this band was going to be here (!). They both had small businesses and could set their own schedules. It was a good week to be in Nevada--our weather is awesome---Boston got more snow.

 

So then I received a text from our son that there was room at the back of the venue to sit and watch the show. He had a little platform with his mixer board, and there was a table/bench for me. It was great! We could hear and see everything well and I could watch and admire him as he did his thing.

 

 

This band he works with is very energetic and has been playing together for ten years. They're good, they know what they're doing and they're tight. Our son has known them for at least five years and they recorded some of their earlier work in his studio. It's exciting that he can be part of this tour because they appreciate his skill and trust him to do well.

 

Then, about half-way through their program, the lead singer called out: "We're going to dedicate this next song to Mom and Pop [CoolGuy] who live here in Vegas and are hanging with their son, our own [Super Awesome Sound Dude] and they pointed back to us and waved. Everyone turned around and gave us a cheer. (Obviously we were the people qualified to be known as "Mom and Pop" back where they were pointing.)  So awesome! No one has dedicated a song to me at a live concert before, so that was pretty fun!

 

We'd chatted briefly with the lead singer before the show, out on the sidewalk, before we went in to see the first act. I'd recognized him from his videos, and I stepped up to introduce us as Sound Tech's mom and dad  He was every bit the polite young man from North Carolina, and said how much they liked working with our son. I told him that we'd heard the same thing about him --- what a good time our son was having working with him. So, it was really nice when he acknowledged us at the show.  

 

The audience insisted on three encores, and then everyone finally left so the crew could pack up the gear. We stood around talking to people, then their van arrived to put up all their stuff---they were headed off to Southern Cali for another show on Thursday night--Friday night off, and then back on stage at the Coachella Music Festival. They have eight more states and eleven more shows till they get home. Then, after a weekend off, they're being flown out to L.A. to appear on Jimmy Kimmel on Monday, May 5th.

 

Whew!  It's a challenging life---day after day in new place, doing exactly the same program night after night. But that's what a band tour is all about and the reason they're succeeding is that they have the talent and the passion to do it. And they're just all being professionals, which is what our son likes about it so much.

 

We dropped him off at their hotel, we drove home and flopped into bed at 3:30 A.M. Good thing I'm on vacation! But, I'd have done that even if it were a school night. It's pretty great to be the honored parents of a valued member of a great gig. We met up again this morning for a late breakfast before they took off again, and did our hugs and "love you's" and I can't believe I don't have any photos except the ones from the shows! Here's a little video of him in action.  (The sound is not optimal in this video because it's from a phone...so go look up Future Islands on YouTube and hear how good they are.)



Are We Not All Beggars?

Today, I listened to a speaker in church, express something that had just happened to me a few minutes before. He said, "Have you ever been reading in the scriptures, and stopped and thought to yourself: Wow! did they change that since the last time I read that...and underlined it in red?" I felt startled. I had just experienced the same feeling a few minutes earlier while reading a familiar and beloved passage. This time it seemed to speak a different message to me.

Mosiah 4:16-23 has always spoken very vividly to me. It so strongly tells us that we are not to judge one another, but to simply help one another. But today, another thought crossed my mind as I reread this chapter. Perhaps there is more than just physical succor being referenced here.

In verse 16 it says, ye yourselves will succor those that stand in need of your succor;....you will not suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to you in vain, and turn him out to perish.

 What if the petition is for kindness, or forgiveness? What if it isn't simply food or shelter?

It goes on: perhaps thou shalt say: this man has brought upon himself his misery; therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance that he may not suffer, for his punishments are just---

Maybe the person who is petitioning you doesn't need something like food, but they need your spiritual power, your faith? Maybe they have "brought upon" themselves their misery, but now they need you to forgive and to invite them into the shelter of your testimony and your knowledge of the love of God for all mankind?

In verse 19, it goes on: for behold are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind?

What could make our lives richer than our knowledge of our divine heritage? What is more sustaining than the witness of the Holy Ghost that the scriptures are the word of God, that His power is ours to use through our covenants, if we live righteously? 

Verse 20:  And behold, even at this time ye have been calling on his name and begging for a remission of your sins. And has he suffered that ye have begged in vain? Nay; he has poured out his Spirit upon you...

Should we deny those who need our forgiveness, our love and friendship, and our guidance?

Verse 21: Now if God, who...doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, oh then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another.

My "substance" is not just the physical things of this world that make my life more comfortable. I'm not denying the literal interpretation of these scriptures to give to the poor and the needy. But today, I read something entirely new that I needed to know. My testimony, my faith and my knowledge of the plan of salvation and God's reality is actually my most valuable possession. I need to give freely of my forgiveness, my faith, and my love as well.

Verse 26 concludes: And now, for the sake of these things which I have spoken unto you--that is, for the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day, that ye may walk guiltless before God--I would that ye should impart of your substance to the poor ....both spiritually and temporally, according to their wants.

I'm a beggar, I know. But I'm rich in some ways. I know now what alms I can--and should---give freely from my abundance.

He was Right

CoolGuy, I mean. I went to school yesterday because it was the last day before Spring Break, and there was a fun event known as the Bike Rodeo. The students bring bicycles or scooters, and then each class gets to ride on a course painted on our playground. It includes popsicles and lemonade and a safety talk by firefighters. So, I really wanted to be there.

By noon, I was so tired. And all I'd done so far was teach two groups of 4th graders. We hadn't even gone outside yet since our grade's turn was at 2:00. Whew...I'd been to school before using the little cart instead of the crutches. But, as pointed out by my Nurse, not just two days after the surgery. So, luckily, the rest of the day flew by and we had a fun time outdoors, and I went home and collapsed on the couch. Literally...I was so tired. And my Nurse didn't even say, "I told you so" even though he'd been extremely skeptical about my decision to go to school Friday. I slept for 12 hours.

But, when I rolled onto the playground to pick up my class in the morning, I was greeted with cheers and my little students made me cards and I knew they'd be so happy that I returned. It was probably worth it. And I'm really glad it's Spring Break and I have nothing more pressing to do than lie on the couch and rest for a few days.

Three of our grandchildren dropped by on their way back home from their Spring Break visit to LEGOLAND. (oooh...weird....the computer makes that into an all caps word on its own...) (creepy.) A good time had been enjoyed by all and they were totally ready to sleep in their own beds and be at their own house again. It's so nice to be grandma. They're coming back this summer to hang out and go swimming for a fun few days.

Now, I will obey my Nurse, as best as I am able. I will lie around and prop up my foot and try to not whine about how boring it is. Seriously, I forget how boring it is to do nothing. It's fine for a few hours, but several days?? Not so much. I think that is probably a personality defect of mine. Sigh.

Fourth Time's The Charm?

Guess what I'm doing this week? Lying on the couch with my foot propped up on pillows with an icepack on it! It seems to be that time of year again! Foot surgery! Yes, well, we're trying yet another attempt to relieve the pain in the right foot. The continual pain that has not ceased since the initial surgery four years ago to fix the torn tendon that started all this foolishness.

 

So, here I sit--again--with my cast and my cart. Which we wisely just put up in the storage locker instead of selling on eBay. I only have stitches, no bone cutting this time. But the stitches are in my heel, making it very, very tender to step on, so I'm using the cart for a week or so. And it is sooooo much better than crutches. I'm going back to school tomorrow, Friday, just because it is our last day before Spring Break, and it is a fun day. Then, next week, for my vacation, I'll lie down, prop up and ice the leg.

 

Except for Wednesday, when CoolGuy and I are going to go out to a club and see the band for which our son is the sound mixer. They're on tour and are coming to Sin City on Wednesday, in between gigs at the Coachella Music Festival...pretty cool. But mostly, I'm looking forward to seeing our son and having a meal with him.

 

We're having summer start a little soon here. It was 90 degrees today! But...that means that the pool will be ready to use by the time I get these stitches out! Yeah! I love pool season, and it can't get here soon enough. This is the fourth spring in a row, however, that I have timed my swimming start to the removal of stitches...That is getting old. I'm ready to get healed.

Keep On Trying

 

As I took this photo, I put up a sheet of white paper to obscure the name of the student who made this object. I don't want to ridicule her. Nor do I post this to make fun of her work. She worked hard to create this and it is posted on a bulletin board in the hallway. It is part of a board to celebrate reading, and each of the students who contributed made a 3-D or some kind of functional object to go on the collection. This little sweetheart is instructing you to "Open Me." Yeah...but, as you can see, she has one of those brains that mixes things up from what she intends. She isn't going to get better. However, she is a kind, hard-working, friendly, cheerful person. We work and work and work with her. She gets all kinds of special services. Her parents do their best, too. But, between language barriers and culture and the scrambled circuits in her head, we end up with this sort of thing and I don't know what else to do. (Although...ahem...if she were in my room, I'd have checked her spelling before I let her go on to the final product.) (She's in another grade now.) Being a teacher is hard work for a lot of reasons. It is very satisfying and rewarding, too. But one of the hardest parts is, that despite all of our efforts, some people are doing all that they can and...it's not going to get better.

 

The Day of His Birth

Happy birthday to our son! He's on tour with a band for whom he is the sound person during live performances. It's pretty fun for him, because he recorded them at his studio when they weren't so acclaimed, and now they're quite The Thing. We get to see him in a couple of weeks, when the tour brings them through Sin City. Very exciting!

He's toured before with another group and we went to watch in L.A. It was fun to watch him do his job because he's got skills.

 

Here he is at the "board" in the club in L.A. where we watched him during the performance.

 

He was born in the living room on a lovely sunny morning in Southern California, while his two sisters played out in the yard. His older Kindergarten brother had debated whether or not he should go to school that day. But, there was a field trip, and that was pretty compelling. So, he went to school; after all the baby would still be there when he got home. (P.S. the living room was a planned event...we had a midwife.)

 

 

He was a charming little fellow who joined right in to all the family fun. He's been a free-thinker and used his gifted brain to set himself apart for all of his life. Here are a few photo memories in honor of this great day!

 

 

Dinosaur lover

 

Camping with Dad and brothers

 

Cub Scout Dude---he'd won the Pack Pinewood Derby and we were at a bigger event.

 

Posing on the Salt River Pass in Wyoming

 

Halloween G.I. Joe

 

Karate pose

 

pretty good baseball player

 

Baltimore--his home

 

With Leroy, his assistant in the studio

 

That's him in the white shirt playing the bass guitar with Roomrunner.







No, Not April Fools

Look what you can buy!  I don't know anyone who'd love it,
but I wish I did, just so I could give it to them.

Lord of the Rings Pez dispensers...so awesome.

 

Recovering...

...from this ridiculous day!!

I got up and (a little bragging here) rode my exercise bike for the 16th day in a row for 13 minutes. Go me. Then, showered, dressed and made my lunch. I had to make a quick stop at the store to pick up some teeny cupcakes for my special lunch with two students, and a 3-pack of tissues because there are NONE anywhere at school, including the supply room. It's been a very snotty three months in fourth grade.

I arrived at school and (YES!!) snagged the last parking space in the front lot. As I entered the front door, I realized that the actor's troupe was already there, setting up their scenery and props for the assembly we'd booked for today. Yay! They were really terrific too! So, no worrying about that part of my day (I was in charge of the assembly) as I headed into the office to pick up whatever was in my box. The secretary looked dolefully at me and explained, "The art teacher is out. You'll have to sell your prep."  Good news: a little extra money. Bad news: I get no planning period today and...what will I do with my class? Hmm...

I rushed down to my classroom, turned on all the electronic devices I love to have available for my use, snatched up my papers and zipped up to the copy room. I whipped out my needed papers for the three periods, and dropping off that little stack on my desk, put on my sunglasses and marched upstairs to stand my morning playground duty. I watch wall-ball and keep it from turning into free-for-all-ball. (You realize, of course, that many boys only put up with the learning part of school because of recess?)

The bell rang, and it was line-up, say the pledge and go downstairs time, all too soon. I got to have a stand-off with a little student who MUST say "up" if I indicate "down"---I lost. That round...we went around again later. It's every day, every hour.

We took attendance and headed straight down to our assembly. It was great!! The other 4th grade teachers went off to take their students to P.E. and Music. We voted to stay and watch the assembly again with the younger kids! It was delightful all over again. We left and held 1st period. I walked everyone out to recess, went to the bathroom, stopped back in my room to check school email and went out to pick up my Lunch Buddies. Back to the room, we ate lunch, chatted, served cupcakes. Dashed out and picked up the rest of the kids after their lunch. Switched groups and taught 2nd period and 3rd period.

Next, we stacked all the chairs, and headed out the door with the bell. I helped my co-worker direct traffic so students could cross the street safely and headed back into the classroom.  Where I served granola bars to 15 students who joined my co-worker and I for after-school tutoring. However, today, instead of staying the 75 minutes to help her, I had to attend a teacher's union building representatives' meeting. She had enlisted another teacher to help her tonight with the small groups we created to focus on essential literacy skills. I'll be there on Wednesday, though. And, of course, this group is comprised of many of the people who stretch our patience all day. It's why they need the extra help...inner motivation and impulse control is not their strength.

After the union meeting, I went grocery shopping and finally pulled into my driveway 11 and a half hours after I'd left this morning. (And, just so you entrepreneurs know...I don't need help taking the bags to the car. I'd like someone who'll come home with me and put it all away.)

Yes, that is a fairly typical day. Except for the "selling my prep" part. Usually, I do get a 50 minute planning period during the day. Plus, I didn't tell you about all the little dramas---band-aids applied, cough drops dispensed, pencils sharpened, quarrels stopped, pesky little people motivated by The Look. On a "normal" day, it's not really all that different.

But! I still love my job. We just really really need Spring Break to arrive. Soon.

Spring

It's here. I hope it is also happening where you are. Spring, I mean. Just now, I went outside to add some carrot peelings, kale stems, and onion ends to my composter, after preparing dinner. The air was so soft and pleasant. There was a faint glow in the sky over the western mountains still, although the sun had set some time ago. A few stars were starting to appear. My neighbor's tall palm tree that towers over the corner of our common wall was stirring slightly in the evening breeze.

Today, I reveled in the fabulous morning weather while I stood on the playground, checking off the names of students as they arrived.  Several of my fellow teachers and I were at school for a couple of hours for "CRT Camp." This is an event we hold on a couple of Saturdays this time of year in anticipation of our high-stakes yearly tests. We invite the entire grade level, and usually get about 1/3 of our students to come. We spent the morning rotating to our different classrooms, focusing on test taking tips, and squeezing in a few little extra points of curriculum. Plus, in between each 40 minute session, the students get to take a lap around the interior hall of the school! (The real reason they come...)  We almost didn't want to go inside because the day was so fantastic! Clear skies, puffy clouds, a small breeze accompanying the brilliant sunshine. Sigh. I love this time of year.

But, even when the temperature start to climb, and summer takes over, I will still love living here. I'll just be loving it from the swimming pool.

Sisters

I read an on-line conversation recently that discussed the tendency of American couples to limit their families to two children. I grew up in a unique culture in the west, where a "quiver full" of children was the norm, and many of my peers came from homes like mine, with six, seven or eight brothers and sisters. Some of the people commenting were also raised in the 50's and 60's but in Catholic homes, where they, too, were surrounded by a crowd of siblings. The point of the article is lost to my brain right now, but I do remember thinking as I read it how much I enjoy, as an adult, having sisters.

When I was a child, I never even considered that having five sisters was unusual. Most children only know their own reality, so whatever exists in their lives is "normal" "regular"--the way life just is. It doesn't seem unusual until you gain a little maturity and can observe other people's families. More and more, I associate with families that have a sister and a brother and that is all.

I know that for a long time, this has been the ideal. People get married, then they have a child and a couple of years later, another child. Many are thrilled to get one of each: a son and a daughter. I know that when CoolGuy and I had our first two children, his coworkers were of that mind set that, now, we had it all: a son and a daughter. We had another daughter just sixteen months later, and there was a lot of good-natured kidding about "don't you know what causes that...". Then, we had two more kids --on purpose, just like the first three. Truly freakish behavior in the 70's and 80's among some of our peers. But, I'm so glad that we had multiple children, and I'm even more happy that I have siblings: plural.

I just enjoy knowing that there are several people in the world who have known me---all of me--for a really long time. Maybe part of it results from our nomadic married life. It's nice to have people in my life to whom I don't have to explain everything. We can communicate in shorthand. I also like having people in the world who accept me just as I am--they know my shortcomings; they don't care. I've just always been one of those people to whom they offer unconditional love, and still offer it. Families have codes and ours is no different. It's relaxing to be part of the in-group on those limited occasions when we gather. 

I also know that my sisters and I will always treat each other like --- well --- sisters. I know that I can just go to their houses, even if they are not home, and sleep over, or get a meal or whatever, and that is just fine. It goes both ways. When we were younger, and raising our children, if someone's child needed a surrogate mother for a few days--no problem---there was always one available. I sent off three missionaries via the auntie-connection. My college student children got invited to dinners and parties because those mothers were their mothers when needed. One of our family weddings is a mass gathering.

Mostly, though, I'd be lonely if I only had one other sibling. I really like being part of group. We were always referred to as the "------ Girls" and, even though it meant that some people didn't bother to distinguish me from my sisters by name, I was/am proud to be identified as part of that group. I appreciate their loyalty and their love. And we have two brothers, too---it all goes the same for them. Love all you guys!

 

Two of these are cousins and the final baby sister isn't in this photo,
but we were quite a group of girls.

Happy Birthday Daddy

Today is the 91st anniversary of my dad's birth. In a few more days, I'll be the same age he was when he died. It's been a whole lifetime for one of my sons since my dad passed away--literally. We went up to Wyoming to Daddy's funeral, and when I got back home to California, I went to the prenatal clinic and had confirmed why I'd been so tired the whole visit. Not that a major family passage like losing your father isn't a good enough reason. Our last child came to earth to live the same year my father left his earthly journey to go back to heaven. I know they knew one another, and I know that my dad delivered his wonderful spirit to us. So, it's easy to associate their lives together, even though they didn't cross paths here.

It's intriguing to realize, now that I'm the parent of adults, how little it matters to your mother-brain that your children no longer need you like they did when they were infants or little children. In  your parent brain, these people are still your "babies" and you haven't slacked off at all in the fierceness of your protective instinct. When it was the last week of my dad's life---and we all knew it--we talked on the phone. I was nine hundred miles away, but it was really important to him that I knew that he loved me deeply. He repeated that over and over. It was the only thing that he really needed me to know, actually. I did know it, of course; he was my dad. But, I realize that it was something I just assumed because he was my dad. But, at that point, when there was nothing left in his life but pain and death, it was all he could talk about to each of us. He never wanted us to forget.

It's been an interesting 30 years since he left us. He didn't really leave. Oh, his body died, relieving him of the burden that he'd carried for many years. We had the funeral, and we left that husk under the lilac tree, on the hill overlooking the place where he was born and lived, all but a few years of his life. We haven't been able to see him, or laugh with him, or watch him enjoy our children. But, his influence on us continued unchecked. He wasn't a well-educated person, but he urged all his children to get  as much education as we could, and there are a lot of college graduates who claim him as grandpa. He wasn't especially comfortable at church all of his life, but he lived the gospel of Jesus Christ as defined in the scriptures: doing good for others, caring for the poor and helpless, loving his neighbors. He's even occasionally "visited" us for special reasons. Each of us sisters can tell you of a very sacred event when we "heard" his voice, or felt his spirit, or knew he was watching over or caring for us. 

So on this occasion of remembering him for his birthday, I'd like to just remind myself that his example of fatherly love has been influential on how I show my parental love. His example of being a good person has been an incentive for me to live the Gospel of Jesus Christ as well as I can. See, just because someone isn't around in person anymore, doesn't limit their influence on those whom he loved and who loved him. I know I'll probably get to sit down and account for myself with him some day. I want to give a good report. He was always proud of me, and I want to always be worthy of that pride.

 

He is the little blondie on the lap of his grandfather, front row right. His parents are on the far left. The blonde girl on Dad's lap is his sister Margie.

 

 

I don't know how old he is in this photo, but his hair was still blonde.

 

 

This is a close-up from a school class photo. He is probably in 5th or 6th grade.

 

 

 

This is 1965 or 66--the one year we all lived together in the same house. The littlest sister was born in the summer before the oldest sister was a senior in high school.

 

 

This is the not-yet-sick grandpa playing with our oldest son in their living room, 1977.

 

 

This is May, 1982 in San Diego. Daddy had just given the name blessing for that baby at church.

 



 

This is the fall of 1982, when our youngest brother came home from his mission. In just six months, he'd lost a lot more weight and was much weaker. He lived about 15 more months. 

I Loved Them, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah

This morning, I got a call from my sister. She would have been 16 when the Beatles made their debut on the Ed Sullivan Show. I would have been almost 11. She asked if I remembered coming out to the barn fifty years ago and telling her that it was time to come in and watch. No... I didn't remember that. She would have been helping to milk the cows on a cold winter night, and it was my job to go fetch her.

I remembered watching them, however. I guess that my mom knew she really wanted to see it, so apparently I was sent out to call my sister in when it got close to the time they'd appear. Everyone had heard about The Beatles being booked for the show that night. But, milking simply didn't stand still for things like Ed Sullivan. I'm surprised I wasn't out helping, too. But, maybe it was my turn to stay in. Or maybe Daddy was there to do it. It was a Sunday night, in the middle of February; he wouldn't have been doing much else except milking. Maybe both of my older sisters came in. I can't remember anyone in the living room but me, Mother and the sister who called me today.

She went on, asking if I remembered watching it. Oh yes. She laughed that she probably went along with Mother's opinion: they were so scruffy looking--what was the big deal anyway? She's a huge fan now--she credits her middle son with her conversion. But I remember going upstairs to my newly-created "room" (it was basically a corridor between the stair case and the big girls' room) and laying on the bed and thinking, "Wow. I really liked them!"

I was startled by all the screaming girls in the audience. I'm not sure I've ever screamed like that, for any reason, in my entire life. But, I could understand the enthusiasm that those screams represented. Their music was so good. They were cute! It's really silly now to think how I felt when I was 11, seeing them for the first time. It may very well have been the first time I heard them, too. I didn't listen to the kind of radio where they'd have been played when I was 11. I wasn't in charge of what got listened to at our house.

I remember buying my first Beatles album when I was in high school, though. It was "Let It Be" because that was the year I would have had any money at all to spend on something like that. They were as good as their reputation declared them to have been. When I got to college, one of my roommates had actually seen them perform in Los Angeles when she was in junior high. That was pretty awesome. By the time I was old enough, hip enough and had the money, they weren't a group anymore.

But, they did define music when I was starting into that time of life when everything is so intense and emotional. They were really good and I do remember knowing that the very first time I saw them play.

 

They appeared for three weeks in a row on Ed Sullivan in February. This video shows all three appearances.

Looking for the Warm

I know, I know...I didn't even wear a jacket outside today to direct traffic after school. But, it wasn't pleasant out there. It was---chilly. GASP! But, I live in a climate where we don't get chilly that much. And some of us don't like it when it happens, either.

Now, some complain about my complaining. They've lived here their whole lives.  They're tired of the hot weather that is a feature of summer in the desert. They LIKE winter here. They don't want to have it warm up. I've wondered why they don't move to another climate zone.  But maybe they have a job here, and family ties and --- there are lots of reasons to never move away from where you were born and raised.

 I, for one, do not complain about the summers here. I know it is going to get up over 100 degrees every single day (sometime waaaay over.) I know it is not going to cool off to less than 95 degrees at night. However, I just go swimming a lot. I stay indoors when it is scorching at noon. I plan ahead so that I can sometimes escape by heading north to the cooler climes of a higher altitude.

But, winter should be over now, down here in the Mojave. Bring on 70 degrees! We're ready! Most of my year is spent with very moderate temperatures. Most of my year never requires me to think about the weather. I like living that way. I'm ready for it again in 2014.

What Does This Mean?

First, let me say that I was astounded to realize that I haven't written anything for a couple of weeks. I think of stuff, then I get home from school, or whatever, and forget to go write it down. But, I'll try to say something on a more regular basis.

My question refers to a realization I've had about my clothing lately, and I'm suspicious of the implications. See these pants:

 

They are from L.L. Bean and have become my new uniform. They are knit, but they are sturdy and don't look like sweat pants. They are slightly flared (boot cut) and fit snugly around my hips and thighs. Although the waist is elastic, it is a wide band, and isn't gathered at all. The waistband just sits comfortably on my body, without coming up under my armpits. (I have a short torso, with long legs.) They don't bag or sag or have thin, revealing fabric. In short, they are absolutely perfect!  So....I have a pair in dark green, black, brown, navy and gray. And I wear them every day of the week to school. They look very dressy with any top--a nice jacket, a sweater, a filmy blouse, a casual blouse. I can also wear them to yoga with a T-shirt. It's like dressing in pajamas and no one knows it.

 

They look good with my teensy shoe wardrobe. (There are no "cute" orthopedic shoes.) So, I can look professional, not wear jeans, and yet---be so comfortable that I FEEL LIKE I'M WEARING PJ'S!!

 

So....does this mean that I have--finally--become an official Old Lady??

Getting to Know You

We had a very interesting and amusing Relief Society meeting this week. We have a new set of women who have been called to be the leaders, so they wanted to introduce themselves to us, and then have us get to know one another a little better. It was clever and very well done. First we took a little quiz about their lives and likes. Then we had the chance to sit and chat with other sisters in our ward.

We were instructed to sit at one of the tables set up in the room, which had each of us across from another woman. Then, a deck of index cards was placed, face-down, between us partners. At the sound of the timer, we picked up the top card, read the questions and took turns answering, so that we could learn some interesting facts about our lives. One card was all about music: Do we play an instrument? What kind of music do you like to listen to? What is a favorite song? Etc. One card was about where we'd lived, traveled and where we'd like to go. Another topic was about school: Did we like it? Would we go back to finish a degree? What was our best/worst subject? After just a minute, the timer would ding again, so that each team only answered the questions on one card. At the "ding" one side of the table would move right to the next chair, with a new partner, for the next card and question.

Here's one I read that I decided to share in this post. "What was your first job?" The first job, for which I got money, was babysitting for various neighbors. I'd go and put their kids to bed, and then do some homework or watch T.V. while they were out on the town, often dancing at one of the bars that had a band, and when they'd get home at 11:00 or closer to midnight, I'd collect my 50 cents and get driven home. But...my very first job--meaning responsibility--that I remember was watching my little brother.

Actually, I had a partner in this endeavor--my sister, Patricia, who was fifteen months younger. Our brother would have been about six or seven months old. He didn't crawl yet, but he could sit up. So he was tucked into the red wagon, with a blanket around him for extra support. He was probably wearing little overalls with suspenders. He was a rather big baby. I think he weighed nearly 11 pounds when he was born. So we weren't expected --- perhaps forbidden-- to try to pick him up and carry him. After all, we--the "babysitters"-- were only four and five years old ourselves! So, brother sat in the wagon and we were to watch him and keep him entertained. The wagon was parked near the fence that was about 30 feet from the open barn door. Between us and that door stood about a dozen cows, lazily flipping a fly now and then with their tails, chewing their cuds, as they waited their turn inside the red barn. That's where our mother was. She and our two older sisters, nine and ten years old, were milking the twelve cows that were standing in the stalls, munching their tasty rolled barley ration. Our dad was up in the fields either harrowing, or drilling, or --most likely on a beautiful June evening like that--irrigating the alfalfa, armed with a shovel and canvas dams, dressed in his hip-high waders and his straw hat.

Our mother milked the cows every evening in the summer, so that my dad could do all the multitude of jobs that really never ended. Our big sisters were almost old enough to handle the whole chore on their own, and I know that by the next summer, with my mom queasy with another baby on the way, they took over from her. Mother had grown up milking her father's cows, so she was an experienced hand at this farming business. It really takes everyone in the family to make it a success. Also, she wasn't exactly a sissy. She spent plenty of time in a tractor seat, herself, from harrowing to running the buck rake before my dad owned a baler. In the fall, she would drive the grain truck, taking loads from the combine in the field down to either the feed store or to one of the granaries by the barn to be stored for winter use.

So, when it was milking time, everyone was expected to step up and do their job. My job, as the bigger sister, was to supervise my little sister and my little brother. I'm pretty confident that we needed watched almost as much as he did! But, I remember floating lilac leaves on the little stream of irrigation water that floated across the barnyard to the pasture. I remember having the kitties frolicking near us, batting at the little bugs that would fly up from the grass along the fence line. If there were lambs in the pasture, they would crowd near the wire, hoping we had their bottles of milk. It was warm and wildflowers were blooming. I don't think the milking took more than an hour. I don't even know if the herd was up to two dozen cows by then--probably. We had old-fashioned milkers that got carried from cow to cow. A few cows were fussy, and had to milked by hand into a bucket, but a nine or ten year old girl could do that. We all had our chores and we all did them and afterwards, went inside for supper and bed. When you are farm girls, you learn early how to just get to work and get it done. It was excellent training for my grown-up life.  

 

This is the brother, when he was just a few weeks old. I'm the sister in the blue dress. By summer, he could sit up and you can tell that we two on the front row would have been excellent babysitters. The two sisters on the back row were very responsible cow milkers at that point, too.



Cat Life

I read today a comment that said, "If the NSA is archiving all of our Facebook postings, then you're saying that about 30% of our national security information is cat pictures?"  Well, here's another contribution to the cat database....

I've talked before of the magnificent KitKat. She rules the house. One of her most favorite sleeping surfaces is our bed cover. It is a patchwork quilt made from corduroy. If I get into bed and only place the sheet over my body, because I'm a little too warm, then she will stand beside me and stare impatiently until I pull the quilt over my legs so that she can cuddle on the corduroy. On the days when I wash the sheets, and the corduroy is piled randomly in the center of the bed, she is beside herself with unrest. It simply is the best nap surface, ever.  Here's an example of her devotion to this quilt.

So, it was with extra irritation a couple of nights ago that I walked into my room to find that she'd chosen a new place to sleep. I'd placed a pile of clothing from the dryer on the bed, intending to fold them after I'd put dinner on to cook. But, I found the KitKat sound asleep, curled up comfortably on my black knit pants. NOT on the two pair of jeans; NOT on the denim shirts; NOT on the vast expanse of the Special Corduroy Quilt. Oh, no! That would be too obvious! She chose the small bit of black knit pant leg that was exposed. It was the one object on the bed that would most vividly display the cat hair she was shedding as fast as she could in the limited time she had to nap there. Sigh. Cat life---so incomprehensible.

Birthday! Birthday! Birthday!

It's birthday time again! Here's a little retrospective of  years gone by.

 

 Such a funny book! It's called "Miami Mice" about some Florida rodent detectives. 1988

 

 

Hiking in the canyon above the Pacific Ocean along Highway 1. 1992

 

 Thoughtful? Exhausted? We'd just had five kids born in eight years, and he wasn't a sit back and watch kind of dad...1985

 

Monterey, California...such a nice place 1991

 

Baby boy and daddy  1984

 

 

Santa Barbara weekend get-away 1990

 

Admiring the artist Cristo's work along I-5 in California 1991

 

Daddy and Sweetie-Pie 1981

 

 

Grandpa! 2005

Navy Achievement Medal 1980

 

Biker Grandpa! 2013

 

Horsey-ride Grandpa 2007

Off They Go

My whole married life, I've lived by a military air base. In California it was always a Naval Air station (or two). In Maryland, we had a Naval Air Station and then, about 30 miles up the road from my school was Andrews Air Force Base. Some days, while at recess duty on the playground, I could see Air Force One up in the sky on its final approach. Cool. Even in our brief time in Idaho, CoolGuy worked at an Air Force Base. Here, in Las Vegas, our home and my school are only a few miles from a large Air Force base that also happens to home to the United States Air Force Thunderbirds. In fact, one of my student's father is their videographer.

Living near air bases means there is usually the noise from planes and helicopters. But, I've just become accustomed to it as the background sound of life. Once, in California, the U.S. Navy Blue Angels air team was performing at the base where CoolGuy worked. They put on two shows that weekend, but we didn't drive over to the base and struggle through the traffic. We just went into our backyard and laid on the trampoline and watched! Of course, we couldn't see the entire show, but they flew over our house regularly in their turn-arounds and you could count the rivets on the wings.

Today, as we do each Friday, the entire student body met upstairs on our playground for flag ceremony. Each class gets a turn to present it. Students march up the center aisle carrying the U.S. flag and our Nevada state flag, place them into the holders, and then we all remove our hats, and join together for the Pledge of Allegiance. Just as we finished reciting it today, as we all still stood at attention following "...with liberty and justice for all" the six jets from the Thunderbirds team swooped up and over the air field to the north of our school. They had their smokers on, leaving a white trail, and they soared straight up in the sky. One jet peeled off to the west, while the other five turned north and then, we couldn't see them anymore. It was awesome! How many other elementary schools get the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds flying team to provide the perfect accent for their flag ceremony?

Ringing in the New Year

Or, rather riding in the New Year. It was 65 degrees, and beautifully sunny this afternoon when CoolGuy and I set off into the desert for the Because-We-Can motorcycle ride. Seriously, the air felt warm on my face and we tooled along the road that goes east up through a gap between two mountains and leads out into the Lake Mead Recreation Area. It is always so desert-y stark out there. It doesn't really matter what time of year it is--it will never be green out there. A few hardy pieces of vegetation poke up out of the hard packed alkaline soil, but the scenery is dominated by rock.

So have a great day and a great year. We hope to able to ride out to the desert again, 365 days from now and take another photo. Hopefully, it will be on the motorcycle, and not wheelchairs.