Celebration

Forty years ago, my nervous uncle stood in a little church in Wyoming. He was getting ready to perform the first wedding since he'd been called to be the Mormon bishop for that congregation, and there was a fairly large crowd for that small building. Included in the spectators was the uncle of the groom, who also happened to be my uncle's supervisor. The mother of the bride was a little annoyed at the bride, so there was some tension in the room. The young couple took their places in between the best man and the maid of honor, who was the bride's sister. Then, as the eclectic crowd ---grandmothers, farmers, bikers, cousins, businessmen and lots of assorted relatives--- looked on, my uncle asked CoolGuy, "Do you take Trish to be your lawfully wedded wife?" A great question, except that she is my sister and was acting as maid of honor at this wedding for which, I, me, myself, was the bride.

It wasn't an unusual mistake for the time. My sister and I were born just 15 months apart---right on the same day of the month-- the 23rd. We were essentially raised as twins. We wore the handed-down matching dresses of our two older sisters. We were both little blonds, the 3rd and 4th girls born into our parents' family. Most people in our small community, and even our enormous extended family, rarely distinguished between us. We were just [EarthSignMama/Trish], all one word, most of our growing up years. To be confused at the wedding was actually kind of hilarious. I wasn't even annoyed at my dear anxious uncle.

CoolGuy just stood there, however, and blinked, and then said calmly, "Um, no...I want to marry [EarthSignMama]."  And that brought down the house! Loud guffaws ensued. My poor uncle turned bright red, apologized, started over, and this time, I was the one being offered as the wedded wife. And CoolGuy said, "Yes," and I did, too, and here we are, lo these many decades later. What a long, strange trip it's been.

 I made the Grateful Dead connection because music has been a defining element of our relationship. When we first got together, we each had quite a collection of vinyl LPs. Not much else...but lots of records. We listened to music regularly; we went to many concerts; most of our children are quite good musicians. I wanted to celebrate this anniversary by including a few of the songs that will always have a special meaning for us. There is no particular order. Just sometimes, the way things were in our lives, these songs will always conjure up a memory. (CoolGuy tells me that Sugar Magnolia is the Dead song that reminds him of me.)

We saw the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band several times because they appeared at the San Diego County Fair quite often. We'd ride the motorcycle up there to the grandstands that overlooked the ocean, and listen to these guys. One song that means a lot is Stand a Little Rain. There were plenty of times when these lyrics were our motto. Another memory buster is High Horse.

Another group that would appear often at that fair was The Righteous Brothers. They loved that venue, as they'd enthusiastically point out each time they performed. And so they did a really great job, too! There really isn't just one that we liked the most, so here's a good one with a message for us--Unchained Melody. You may remember that it was in the movie "Ghost." He was overseas when it came out. I went by myself to see it--don't go to a love story movie featuring a dead guy when your husband is in the middle of a war. Just saying... He saw it on the plane on the way back to California. When I picked him at the airport, he put a cassette in the car tape player and hugged me while the Righteous Brothers played "our song." Sigh.

Early in the marriage, we both came home one day to marvel with each other about a song we'd heard on the radio. Who was that guy? Where did he come from? It was Willie Nelson. Where had he been? Writing songs for decades, performed by other singers, that both of us had loved--Hello Walls, Crazy, Funny How Time Slips Away.  But then, he started recording his own songs. We saw him in concert over and over, too. It was the best music event you could go to: he was having a great time! It seemed like he'd have done it without an audience. The concerts went on and on...two hours of him and his troupe playing their music, and all of us enjoying ourselves like you wouldn't believe! Here's that first song we heard that affected us so---Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.

We went to lots of concerts, did I say that already? It was SoCal in the 70's, and many groups came through there and tickets weren't expensive. Another group we saw more than once, because we couldn't stay away,  was The Bellamy Brothers. They were also a fantastic concert event. We even got to take all the kids to see them perform once as part of big festival sponsored by some family-friendly venue. The children had heard their records (or maybe we were using cassette tapes by then...) so many times that they could sing along! Here's Let Your Love Flow.

One day, CoolGuy peeked in the kitchen door from the garage and called, "Come and hear this guy on the radio! He's going to be huge, I tell you."  Here's what I heard--Guitars and Cadillacs by Dwight Yoakam. Yeah. He became huge. We saw him in concert several times, too. When CoolGuy was in Saudi Arabia helping the Marines during Desert Shield/Desert Storm, I sent him a video tape with one of Dwight's videos of a new song. It was warmly received in the wasteland of Saudi Arabia.

I could hardly chronicle the Music of Our Marriage without including The Eagles. We somehow managed to never get to one of their concerts, however. Rats. But we have so many memories of their music associated with our union. Here's a favorite--Best of My Love.

Another memorable concert from someone whose music we listened to constantly: Emmy Lou Harris. We got to see her in an intimate venue, alongside the water in San Diego. Here's Making Believe. 

This is getting crazy. The more I go back in my memory, the more I realized that this post might never end! George Thorogood, Junior Brown, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, Smokey Robinson, Blondie, B.B.King, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Los Lobos, Loretta Lynn, Tammy Wynette, George Jones, The Neville Brothers, Linda Ronstadt, The Kendalls--I guess since we listened to music waaaaay more than we watched television, it isn't too weird that music is the biggest memory maker for me.

I think I'll end it, though, with the quintessential musical performance of the relationship. We saw a Johnny Cash concert once. It was a stunning performance. We'd both loved his music long before we got together. It was unanimous that June and Johnny were near the top of the beloved performers list for us both. One day, as I drove back to our house in Maryland, I was listening to a bluegrass radio show in the car. This song came on, and I had to pull over to the side of the road because the tears in my eyes kept me from seeing the lines on the road. It perfectly sums up how we've always felt, and now...after 40 years...is even more relevant.

Irresistable

Today, I had an afternoon sub so that I could go to the foot doctor. Yeah, who'd guess I'd be going to the foot doctor, right? Today, it was to check on the progress of the right foot--it is good, very little pain left. I'm to still wear the boot and see how it feels after five days. Then, if the swelling and pain stay away, I can take it off and go back to shoes. Second, the left foot needed a little podiatry attention. Two of my toes needed fixing a little. So, I left there with a numb left foot, and a booted right foot, and while I was still pain-free, I stopped at my favorite place in the world to browse: Whole Foods.

Now, I don't go there often, because the three stores here in Sin City are all located far, far from my neighborhood. Plus, the prices are ridiculous! However, my trips to the foot doctor are usually my excuse to go in there and admire organic vegetables, and more mushrooms than I knew existed. I also like to marvel at the vast number of cheese varieties--who knew? I buy a few things each time: usually whatever fresh vegetable is in season (today was asparagus) and I get a few selections from the olive bar (pitted Kalamata and some stuffed green ones). Then...I look over the prepared food selections. Sigh.

I can totally resist buying a new purse. In fact, I don't enjoy it at all when my purse wears out and I have to replace it. It's such agony to find one that is just right--not too big, not too small, not too heavy, not enough of the right little spaces. I don't even spend time in the shoe department any more...it's just too sad. But I can barely resist sampling the amazing dishes that the cooks in the Whole Foods kitchens create. Golden beet salad!  Charred cauliflower with ginger and red onions! Roasted Brussels sprouts marinated in rice wine vinegar and bacon bits! Lemon capellini with capers!

So, knowing that I was to go home, lie on the couch, prop up my freshly doctored in-grown toenails, and rest, I purchased a couple of to-go servings of two of those delights, and this evening, CoolGuy can load up the plates, and toast and butter a couple of little ciabbatta rolls (Walmart) and we'll feast. Yes, food, glorious food, is irresistible.

First Day!!

I came home from a friend's bridal shower this afternoon. I was hot and sweaty. I looked out in my backyard, and there beckoned the glimmering pool. So, I went out there, stretched out on the chaise lounge and got myself even more hot and sweaty (insurance). Then, I jumped in.

Why, yes, it was a bit chilly. But, I've swum in the ocean that was much chillier. The pool was actually fabulous! And, one can leap about, and run in place, and do jumping jacks, and not a bit of pounding occurs to the stupid feet! So, I lept and ran and jumped. It was delightful to get out there and get my blood pumping, and my limbs flinging around, and some muscles and tendons stretched and limbered.

I've been wearing the walking cast again since Thursday. I took it off the week before after all the stitches were removed. The doctor said to wear it for my comfort. And for about five days, my foot felt all right. I was still wearing a compression ankle-Velcro-y thing, and, of course, my shoe inserts and my hiking boots. Then, I decided to wear a different pair of shoes to school on Monday, this week. But, I forgot to put on the compression thing. By noon I was in agony. I had CoolGuy bring over the bandage. But even with my foot propped up all through lunch and the compression bandage, my foot was so painful--deep, achy pain. I went home, iced it and propped it up for a couple of hours. The next morning it was fine. I wore all my accessories, and the hiking boots, but afternoon, again---I felt like I'd like to just lop off the foot. Total agony. Wednesday morning I called the doctor's office and left a message (it was surgery day.) I got a message back that afternoon instructing me to come in on Thursday morning, first thing. So...he looked it all over, agreed it was swollen and a little warm, but said that the scar was healed nicely, no obvious infection or anything. Back in the boot---take a steroid pack. I'm going back next week.  Blah.

So, the pleasure of the pool cannot be emphasized enough! There is no need for foot protection. The feet are just hanging there, undisturbed by gravitational forces. Plus, with the water as cool as it is (about 73 degrees) it is also an excellent temperature for the swelling. Ahhhh, once again--swimming--best thing ever!

More Birds

I left the temple last night just as twilight was fading into black. The air was fantastic. It was comfortable, with a little breeze, and the half moon was shining directly overhead. As I stepped through the doors into the night, I realized that birds were swooping through the air above me. I stood there transfixed as a dozen nighthawks wheeled and twirled and swept up and down through the spotlights illuminating the spires. They were scooping up the insects attracted to the bright beams, up there next to the big rock mountain. All around was darkness, except for the glowing white towers.It proved to be an irresistible lure for the bugs, making it a real Vegas Buffet experience for the birds.

I just waited there, my head tilted up and watched the hawks silently arcing through the air, flapping wings once or twice in each cycle, swirling in and out of the streams of light. They were so graceful and powerful. It was a magnificent event of choreography with so many birds circling round and round, each in its own pattern and avoiding collisions with the precision of the Thunderbirds performance team from the Air Force base just a few miles north.

I realized as I watched, my mind serene from the time I'd just spent inside, that all of God's creatures can come to the temple to be nourished---one way or another.

It's That Time of Year Again!

I had just stepped out of the shower when I first heard it. I didn't really think much about it while I toweled off and spread lotion on my arms. But, when I sat on the edge of the bed to smooth the emollient on my pathetic feet, I realized that it was happening right outside the window.

Sure enough, when I peeked through the blind slats, there it was: a mockingbird--perched on the lowest branch of the short palm, shrieking and hopping from foot to foot in agitation. It could only mean one thing--Kit Kat must be outside.

Poor thing. She has a steady routine. In the morning, CoolGuy lets her out in the backyard. She steps over to her special place and nibbles a little grass. Then, she strolls over to various locations near the tree and sniffs this and that. She has a path around the perimeter of the pool, stopping off at each patch of plant life to sniff and check...whatever...and then move on to the next station.

Well, looking out the window, I realized that Kit Kat was trapped in the first stage of her pathway around the pool. The bird was now perched on the edge of the chaise lounge. Then, as I watched, the shrieking bird jumped down to the cushion and hopped around hollering in triumph or rage--difficult to interpret. I realized that Kit Kat was cowering under there.

So, I hustled to the patio door, and as I turned the lock tumbler, the kitty shot out from under the lounge and rushed toward the door, followed by the extremely agitated bird. I opened the door and Kit Kat dashed in between my feet and the frustrated birdie realized I was there and abruptly switched directions and landed up in the tree.

Poor Kit Kat retired to the bedroom where she is now recovering from the morning trauma. The mockingbird is still out there, singing her triumph song, waiting for the next encounter...

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??