Today is November 6th and voting day around the country. I, for one, am delighted to vote and get this whole process over with since it has been an expensive (4 billion spent by both candidates to date) and negative one on the candidates part. I dread this every four years because it has divided this country right down the middle on political issues. I don't remember voting being so negative and with such hot button issues when I was a child.....a long time ago. But it seems to have become that way with the advent of social networks, 24 hour cable news networks, and pundits who are adamant that their "party" be in control on election day...be it Democrat or Republican. I am sick to death of the name calling, exaggerating issues and facts, and candidates that seem to only care about the party and not the people. This is a statement of my own thoughts and beliefs and not so much of my family or friends.
To begin with, I am a registered independent voter. I tend to vote for the person not the party, which is unheard of most of the time. I don't care about the two parties and believe they have not served this country well at all. When you have a President that is trying to do what he believes is the best for this country and the Representatives in the house have fought him for at least the last two years, truly bites my behind. To be fair, it happened with the last President too. We do not need gridlock, we need to keep this country going and that sometimes means compromise. What bothers me most of all is what we are showing and teaching our children. Do you think they don't hear the commercials? Do you think they don't see people arguing about the candidates and talking in a low manner about the "other" one. Children tend to copy their elders in so many ways and negative talk is one of them. I'm all for open debate and think it can have a positive impact on children if parents are sitting and listening with open minds. Discussing what the candidates are talking about and not what the pundits are talking about is important for children. But that is me and how I raised my children. They are all grown and can make their own choices, but we tried to give them all perspectives.
I would like this country and the people living in it to come together no matter who is elected today. I don't want to hear @#%$%%# got elected or did not get elected. Let's just wrap our heads and our hearts around the one who will be President these next four years and work for the betterment of this country and the people who desperately need a sense of unity. Let's get people in the House and Senate who truly want to help all the people (no matter their color, age, income level or sexual preference) and not their "party" to a richer, more fulfilling life. It takes a lot to stand up and say, "I don't agree with you, but we will work together for all." Let's hope that happens after today and that we can move on toward a lessening of the debt, quality health care and equality for everyone. This is my wish for a better America. My flag is flying everyday and I am so proud and blessed to have been born in the free country of America where we can all say what is on our minds without fear of punishment.
Oh, yes, in Oregon we vote by mail and my ballot was sent in over a week ago. Lots of issues in Oregon to decide how this state will be run and I feel good about my choices. On the federal level I did vote for the person whom I think is the best choice for President..........and with that I will tell you I voted for.........the WINNER.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Monday, May 28, 2012
In Honor of Memorial Day
A few years ago I wrote this to honor my brothers in remembrance of their dedicated service to our country and to our mother, whom they honored every day of her life. It was originally written on Veteran's Day, November 11, which was also the date of our mothers birth. I thought I would add it to my remembrance blog since it is also fitting for today, Memorial Day.
Today is a day of remembrance, mostly because we are
remembering veterans who have served and are serving our country. Coming from a large family including four
brothers, I, too, pay tribute to their service in the military. All four served in different branches and
different wars. Richard was Army and in
WW2, Robert was Air Force and in Korea, William was Navy and served pre-Viet
Nam, and Carl was Marines and served in Viet Nam.
We are thankful they all came back, one with a purple heart, and that
they have led very productive lives. I
cannot tell you of their war experiences because none were shared with me. I was always curious and have at times
thought about asking, but never did, believing that if they wanted to recount
those years they would. I believe my
fear surpassed my curiosity, not wanting to hear of the grimness and reality of
wars that were so unlike anything I could imagine. On this day I also think of my mother since
November 11th was the day she was born, clearly many years before it
was ever a holiday. I can only imagine
how she felt having her adored sons off fighting in other countries in those
wartime years and, oftentimes, in horrible conditions. How relieved she must have been when they
appeared home on leave or at the end of their tours, grateful for their
survival. Make no mistake, she loved all
seven of her children, but I believe she had a special place in her heart for
the boys. She believed in them and in
their strength, both mentally and physically.
She had protected and cared for them in their childhood years and in
turn was protected and cared for by them in their adult years. I could see the pride on her face when she
came for visits. She always recounted
what everyone was doing, often giving long reports of each of her sons.
After my father died in 1970, we all made sure Mom was taken
care of, especially my sisters Madlyn and Kay who lived nearby. Mom never appeared lonely, although I’m sure
she was at times. She was always welcome
in our homes, but my oldest brother Dick asked her come live with him for a
while in Oregon, which she did. Some
years later she decided she wanted to live on her own and indeed did so for many
years. She had the health and security
to travel quite often, not just to all of our homes, but also to far off lands
and places. My brother Bob took her many
places, but the highlight was a memorable trip to Ireland with him and his
family. She was always on the move and
ready to go anytime anyone asked her, never tiring of travel. She never complained about the aches and
pains mainly from arthritis, just accepted it as what happened as you age. Even when she broke her hip and had it
replaced, she forced and pushed herself into a speedy recovery. She worked every day to strengthen her legs
by walking. Cancer of the breast didn’t
stop her either. She enjoyed every day
she lived, even during the tough times and there were many tough times. You don’t live 94 years without having a
few. Several of those times were
extremely rough when she lost a son, granddaughter and great grandson within a
few years of each other. After all,
don’t we as mothers ask God in our prayers to take our lives before any of our
children? The deaths were extremely
difficult for her, but none so much more than the death of her son Bill. I think of that day often because he was my
twin. After being given the information
that his death was imminent, she immediately called to talk to me. I think in her mind it was to see how I was
dealing with this sadness and to tell me of hers. He passed away the day after talking with our
mother for the last time. She was
incredibly heartbroken knowing there was nothing she could do to change the
circumstance.
As a mother you want to
take care of your babies no matter what their age. In turn, one of our mother's babies took care of
her. It was my youngest brother Carl,
who as a little boy would wrap his arms around her neck and tell her he would
always take care of her. With her health
beginning to fail in her late 80’s and unable to live alone, Carl and his wife
Susan brought her into their home where she received much love and tremendous
care. She was very happy living with
them. But after many years her health became more and more fragile, especially after she
suffered a debilitating stroke. She fought hard to get better, but it became
apparent her life was at an end. Carl
called me, as he did with the rest of my siblings, saying we should come see
her before the end. We flew in on a
Friday night, but by the time I reached the hospital she had already slipped
into a coma. The process of dying can be
slow and agonizing for those watching a loved one, but Mom was comfortable and
not suffering. I believe she was waiting
to hear from all of her children one more time and I was the last to get to her bedside. On Sunday as we were leaving the hospital to
catch a flight back home, Carl bent down, put his arm around her, held her hand
and said ever so gently in her ear, “You can go now old timer” (his pet name
for her). It took him 15 minutes to get
home and as he walked in the door the phone was ringing with the news that she
had passed. In the end her youngest
child kept his promise to care for her in her old age and then finally let her
go.
Today, it is with much gratitude and
admiration that I honor my four brothers not only for their dedication to this
country, but also for their dedication to our mother. They, as well as my husband, sons, and
nephews have given and continue to give this country its freedom. It is also my day to honor my mother who, had
she continued to live, would have been 101.
She would have loved to see her children growing older and still going
strong. Happy birthday mom and to all
the men in my family, thank you for being incredible human beings. I give a special thanks to all the other
sons and daughters who have given and are continuing to give so much to and for
our country. We are truly blessed with
your dedicated service and love of country.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
For the Love of Maggie
I have been trying to sit down and write about our new puppy, Maggie Mae, since we found her last September, but with the continuing research of my large family tree and the downright time a new puppy takes, it has been almost impossible. So, I will start at the beginning.......
I had been thinking about getting a puppy for a year before Maggie appeared. I thought it would be a good way to keep Bob's mind busy and active with having to deal with the many needs of a dog, especially one like Maggie, and I loved the thought of having a companion dog in our lives should one of us pass away. So I started looking at the Humane Society where tons of dogs are brought every day, taken away from less than honorable people who neglect and abuse them. Bob saw a little guy named Oscar that was 4 years old, but did not do well around children or other animals. Since we have a grand-doggy in my son Nick's family, I did not think Oscar would do well here. But the likes of Oscar melted Bob's heart since he swore he did not want another dog. (It broke our hearts to lose two of our dogs many years ago and Bob could not bear it again) I continued to search here and there looking for a dog and more and more I realized I wanted a puppy. I mentioned one day to Bob that the pet store down the street might carry puppies, but I never went inside the store to look. A few weeks after I had said that, Bob came home from visiting a friend and said we should take a look in that pet shop. I was busy doing something and said maybe tomorrow, but he was adamant and insistent we go that afternoon.
So I finally relented that day, all the while thinking they would not have puppies in the store. I was still thinking more of a dog from the Humane Society, but knew the little puppies taken in from puppy mills were snatched up before anyone else could get down there to look. So to the pet store I went with Bob not feeling as though we would find our match. I walked in and could see they had cages in the back of the store. As I started down one aisle to the back, I turned to say something to Bob and he was nowhere in sight. I continued on and as soon as I cleared the aisle and got to the window where you could see all of the animals, up popped a little blond head from the top row of cages. The puppy's ears perked up and she stood up looking at me with enormous brown eyes. You might say it was love at first sight for the both of us. I asked the attendant to bring her out so we could meet in a boxed in area and see each other close up. She had blond hair with black tips, a bottom jaw that jutted out so that one could see her little teeth making her appear to be smiling, and was a tiny ball of energy. She instantly sat in my lap and smelled every inch of me. I was looking for Bob to come in the back to see what he thought of this little ball of fluff, but he was still missing in action. Other people in the store started coming back to see the puppy and she entertained us all as she stood on her hind legs and danced around. You would have thought she was a trained circus act, even at four months of age. I pulled myself away while other people were ooooing and awwwing over her. I turned around and there was Bob standing in one of the aisles watching us. I asked him what he thought and he was non-committal as usual. I told the clerk that we needed go home to talk about it before committing to this puppy. Bob said if I wanted her to take her because once we left we probably would not come back. He was right, but what I did not know was that he had been in the store earlier that day and had seen this very same puppy. She caught his eye, too, in the same manner as she had caught mine. He wanted me to meet her alone to see if we "clicked" and to make sure this is what we wanted. She followed us around the store as we talked about getting her and I did not see any way I could leave her there one more night.
I named her Maggie Mae, only because I liked the name and it fit her. We did bring her home that day and it has been a learning experience for us ever since. We did not know at the time that she came from a puppy mill in Kansas. She was put in a cage soon after her birth and shipped to Oregon. She had been in a cage for four months with nothing but a small bowl and rag towel to play with while she waited for someone to find her. We now know all of this, but did not know at the time how anxiety ridden she was and her unbelievable inability to know how to be a dog. Believe me, we have had to learn with her as the months ticked by and she wasn't responding or learning as well as our grand-doggie. They are the same age and it is amazing to see the difference in them. They are both small in size, but Maggie is far behind him in behavior.
We had Maggie neutered at 6 months of age. She was still learning how to be a dog and was doing better, but then she contracted a parasite that set her back a few more months. We learned the parasite could kill her if left undetected and she was one very sick dog. We had to give her round the clock care during this time which only increased her anxiety and I think ours. As she got better, we started taking her with us when we had to go out to get things so she would once again get accustomed to people and other dogs. It took us 4 months to figure out how to transport her in the car without her going crazy. I can say now she has come a long way since those first shaky months and is doing well with the car, discipline and obedience. She is still a little skittish with people and is learning how to approach other dogs. Although we did not get her from the Humane Society, she is a rescue dog in every sense of the word. Who knows how much she was manhandled or neglected and needs much work, more than I ever knew dogs needed. She wears a stress coat when we take her out because it eases her anxieties. Bob takes her on a walk every morning and when I have time, I take her for one at night. She follows Bob everywhere and prefers to curl up and sleep by him at night. She snuggles up to me in the morning and lightly paws my face when it is time to get up because I feed her.
Needless to say it has been an eye opening experience having Maggie. Once she locked those big brown eyes on us, we both knew it was meant to be. She captured my heart and I cannot imagine our lives without her. We have put a lot of time, patience and energy in her so she can have a good dogs life, the way it should be for all dogs. Today we are taking her to the Vet for her one year old checkup. It is perfect timing in a way because she became sick last night. She started throwing up around dinner time and continued into the night. She was panting heavily and we kept feeding her water through a syringe to keep her hydrated while trying to cool her with a damp towel. I had to wait a long time to retrieve a stool sample from her so the Doctor can exam it, but I finally got one this morning and took it right in for examination. She is still lethargic and not eating, but we are hoping it is not the parasite again. If it is, we will get the medicine and nurse her back to health just like we did the time before and continue to nurse her as long as needed. She is our girl, our trusted companion, our loving handful of a dog we call Maggie Mae. There is nothing better in the world than to sit down with her, seeing those little teeth smiling from that jutted jaw along with her big brown eyes that seem to say, "I got you." Yes you do Maggie Mae, you have us hook, line, and sinker. But the most important to me is.....we...have...you!
I had been thinking about getting a puppy for a year before Maggie appeared. I thought it would be a good way to keep Bob's mind busy and active with having to deal with the many needs of a dog, especially one like Maggie, and I loved the thought of having a companion dog in our lives should one of us pass away. So I started looking at the Humane Society where tons of dogs are brought every day, taken away from less than honorable people who neglect and abuse them. Bob saw a little guy named Oscar that was 4 years old, but did not do well around children or other animals. Since we have a grand-doggy in my son Nick's family, I did not think Oscar would do well here. But the likes of Oscar melted Bob's heart since he swore he did not want another dog. (It broke our hearts to lose two of our dogs many years ago and Bob could not bear it again) I continued to search here and there looking for a dog and more and more I realized I wanted a puppy. I mentioned one day to Bob that the pet store down the street might carry puppies, but I never went inside the store to look. A few weeks after I had said that, Bob came home from visiting a friend and said we should take a look in that pet shop. I was busy doing something and said maybe tomorrow, but he was adamant and insistent we go that afternoon.
So I finally relented that day, all the while thinking they would not have puppies in the store. I was still thinking more of a dog from the Humane Society, but knew the little puppies taken in from puppy mills were snatched up before anyone else could get down there to look. So to the pet store I went with Bob not feeling as though we would find our match. I walked in and could see they had cages in the back of the store. As I started down one aisle to the back, I turned to say something to Bob and he was nowhere in sight. I continued on and as soon as I cleared the aisle and got to the window where you could see all of the animals, up popped a little blond head from the top row of cages. The puppy's ears perked up and she stood up looking at me with enormous brown eyes. You might say it was love at first sight for the both of us. I asked the attendant to bring her out so we could meet in a boxed in area and see each other close up. She had blond hair with black tips, a bottom jaw that jutted out so that one could see her little teeth making her appear to be smiling, and was a tiny ball of energy. She instantly sat in my lap and smelled every inch of me. I was looking for Bob to come in the back to see what he thought of this little ball of fluff, but he was still missing in action. Other people in the store started coming back to see the puppy and she entertained us all as she stood on her hind legs and danced around. You would have thought she was a trained circus act, even at four months of age. I pulled myself away while other people were ooooing and awwwing over her. I turned around and there was Bob standing in one of the aisles watching us. I asked him what he thought and he was non-committal as usual. I told the clerk that we needed go home to talk about it before committing to this puppy. Bob said if I wanted her to take her because once we left we probably would not come back. He was right, but what I did not know was that he had been in the store earlier that day and had seen this very same puppy. She caught his eye, too, in the same manner as she had caught mine. He wanted me to meet her alone to see if we "clicked" and to make sure this is what we wanted. She followed us around the store as we talked about getting her and I did not see any way I could leave her there one more night.
I named her Maggie Mae, only because I liked the name and it fit her. We did bring her home that day and it has been a learning experience for us ever since. We did not know at the time that she came from a puppy mill in Kansas. She was put in a cage soon after her birth and shipped to Oregon. She had been in a cage for four months with nothing but a small bowl and rag towel to play with while she waited for someone to find her. We now know all of this, but did not know at the time how anxiety ridden she was and her unbelievable inability to know how to be a dog. Believe me, we have had to learn with her as the months ticked by and she wasn't responding or learning as well as our grand-doggie. They are the same age and it is amazing to see the difference in them. They are both small in size, but Maggie is far behind him in behavior.
We had Maggie neutered at 6 months of age. She was still learning how to be a dog and was doing better, but then she contracted a parasite that set her back a few more months. We learned the parasite could kill her if left undetected and she was one very sick dog. We had to give her round the clock care during this time which only increased her anxiety and I think ours. As she got better, we started taking her with us when we had to go out to get things so she would once again get accustomed to people and other dogs. It took us 4 months to figure out how to transport her in the car without her going crazy. I can say now she has come a long way since those first shaky months and is doing well with the car, discipline and obedience. She is still a little skittish with people and is learning how to approach other dogs. Although we did not get her from the Humane Society, she is a rescue dog in every sense of the word. Who knows how much she was manhandled or neglected and needs much work, more than I ever knew dogs needed. She wears a stress coat when we take her out because it eases her anxieties. Bob takes her on a walk every morning and when I have time, I take her for one at night. She follows Bob everywhere and prefers to curl up and sleep by him at night. She snuggles up to me in the morning and lightly paws my face when it is time to get up because I feed her.
Needless to say it has been an eye opening experience having Maggie. Once she locked those big brown eyes on us, we both knew it was meant to be. She captured my heart and I cannot imagine our lives without her. We have put a lot of time, patience and energy in her so she can have a good dogs life, the way it should be for all dogs. Today we are taking her to the Vet for her one year old checkup. It is perfect timing in a way because she became sick last night. She started throwing up around dinner time and continued into the night. She was panting heavily and we kept feeding her water through a syringe to keep her hydrated while trying to cool her with a damp towel. I had to wait a long time to retrieve a stool sample from her so the Doctor can exam it, but I finally got one this morning and took it right in for examination. She is still lethargic and not eating, but we are hoping it is not the parasite again. If it is, we will get the medicine and nurse her back to health just like we did the time before and continue to nurse her as long as needed. She is our girl, our trusted companion, our loving handful of a dog we call Maggie Mae. There is nothing better in the world than to sit down with her, seeing those little teeth smiling from that jutted jaw along with her big brown eyes that seem to say, "I got you." Yes you do Maggie Mae, you have us hook, line, and sinker. But the most important to me is.....we...have...you!
Friday, March 25, 2011
Rog, Batman and Fronk, three Amigos
These last few weeks have been tough ones for some of the countries of this world. The life changing problems in Japan are sad and scary for a country of people who have seen and experienced massive destruction before. The problems in Libya are also of concern to the world. For me it has been a couple of weeks of deep thought and prayer. In that short time I have learned of three men whose work on this earth is done.
One amigo is a man I went to school with in Harvey, Illinois in the early 60's named Roger Johnson. While I know him from our high school days, we were not close friends....I just knew him then and know him now because he helped organize our reunions. His daughter started a blog for him after he was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer last June and keeps everyone updated on his condition. It sounds like his fight will be done soon as she has asked for many thoughts and prayers for his struggle in these last days of his life.
Another amigo was my cousin Joy's husband, Jim Davis (his boys called him Batman). He passed away March 17, 2011 after a very short battle with stage 4 lung cancer. I found Joy on face book three weeks ago after losing track of her more than 30 years ago. I am trying to get as much information about our very large family for the ancestry book I am working on and found her via face book, just as I did with cousin Roger. I was saddened to hear of Jim's illness and very surprised at how little time they had to deal with the impending loss of Joy's love and father of their two sons and ensuing families. They, too, had asked for and relied heavily on positive thougths and prayer through a blog set up by one of their daughters-in law.
The last amigo is a man named Lee Johnson (no relation to the Roger Johnson above) who passed away on March 22, 2011. He was the husband of a colleague of mine, Mary Lou, who was my boss as the director of Special Needs in the school district for which I worked before retiring. Mary Lou was a straightforward boss, but also empathetic to the needs of all children. She and I retired around the same time. While I did not personally know her husband Lee, I did learn about him through a blog the family started after he was diagnosed with 2 brain tumors. It is titled "Fronk's Health" (Fronk is a nickname from college days) and mostly written by one of his daughters, but Lee did on occasion post some of his own thoughts. He went through all the treatments for cancer, but the severity of it was evident to him as he wrote piece after piece detailing his feelings and thoughts. It is the deeply moving last entry in Fronk's journal of life that was posted by his daughter after his death that touched me the most. She found it among his written musings and surmised he had written it in December to be posted at a later time. I am inserting that last blog entry here in its entirety as it was written by Fronk. While I did not receive permission to do so, somehow I don't think he or Mary Lou would mind. It is as follows:
One amigo is a man I went to school with in Harvey, Illinois in the early 60's named Roger Johnson. While I know him from our high school days, we were not close friends....I just knew him then and know him now because he helped organize our reunions. His daughter started a blog for him after he was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer last June and keeps everyone updated on his condition. It sounds like his fight will be done soon as she has asked for many thoughts and prayers for his struggle in these last days of his life.
Another amigo was my cousin Joy's husband, Jim Davis (his boys called him Batman). He passed away March 17, 2011 after a very short battle with stage 4 lung cancer. I found Joy on face book three weeks ago after losing track of her more than 30 years ago. I am trying to get as much information about our very large family for the ancestry book I am working on and found her via face book, just as I did with cousin Roger. I was saddened to hear of Jim's illness and very surprised at how little time they had to deal with the impending loss of Joy's love and father of their two sons and ensuing families. They, too, had asked for and relied heavily on positive thougths and prayer through a blog set up by one of their daughters-in law.
The last amigo is a man named Lee Johnson (no relation to the Roger Johnson above) who passed away on March 22, 2011. He was the husband of a colleague of mine, Mary Lou, who was my boss as the director of Special Needs in the school district for which I worked before retiring. Mary Lou was a straightforward boss, but also empathetic to the needs of all children. She and I retired around the same time. While I did not personally know her husband Lee, I did learn about him through a blog the family started after he was diagnosed with 2 brain tumors. It is titled "Fronk's Health" (Fronk is a nickname from college days) and mostly written by one of his daughters, but Lee did on occasion post some of his own thoughts. He went through all the treatments for cancer, but the severity of it was evident to him as he wrote piece after piece detailing his feelings and thoughts. It is the deeply moving last entry in Fronk's journal of life that was posted by his daughter after his death that touched me the most. She found it among his written musings and surmised he had written it in December to be posted at a later time. I am inserting that last blog entry here in its entirety as it was written by Fronk. While I did not receive permission to do so, somehow I don't think he or Mary Lou would mind. It is as follows:
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Land of the Rising Sun
In the meantime, my heart goes out to the tens of thousands of people who have been affected by this disaster in Japan. They are also facing the threat of a nuclear meltdown in two of the three reactors near the earthquake. We can only wait and pray they contain the radiation so the people living within the range of the reactors and as far as the wind will take the radiation cloud, don't suffer from the poisoned air. I know people in our country will open their pocketbooks and start giving money for the Japanese people to help them overcome this horrific situation. Bob and I donated yesterday to the Salvation Army because the money is going directly to the rescue and relief in that country. They need food and water desperately and this organization is already set up in Japan to work towards that end.
For now I am just sending comforting thoughts and prayers to the island of Japan. I can do nothing else to ease their pain and suffering. The man in the photo above has lost everything important to him, not material things but people whom he will never see again in this world. May he find peace in his heart somewhere through the rest of his life knowing he loved and was loved by his family. That is all we ever really have in our lives......love and family
Monday, January 24, 2011
Am I My Mother
I was looking at old family pictures several months ago and began comparing my body to that of my mothers. My sons keep telling me I look like her, especially since I've aged. We do share the same thin face, height and weight, and my body type from the waist up is similar to hers. While the comparison is accurate, it isn't necessarily a fact that my body will have as long a life as her 94 years. I developed high blood pressure at the age of 61 and my mother was 62 when hers was detected. She had a fondness for a good homemade pie, ice cream and loved all types of candy. Guess I do, too! She did eat and cook very good and balanced meals for us, though, since she came from an era before fast or frozen foods. What we ate was healthy plates of vegetables, beans and on Sunday, a good beef or pork roast. Fried chicken and meat loaf was sometimes on the menu after she made her weekly visit to the butcher shop. The veggies and eggs were farm fresh and usually bought at the local grocery market. In the springtime Mom and Dad planted a vegetable garden giving us tomatoes and green beans fresh off the vine to eat during the summer months. Mom always managed to gather enough vegetables and fruit for canning in late summer. Our old pantry held many full canning jars for winter consumption. The milk we drank was whole (no skim, 1 or 2% in those days) and was delivered to the side door every morning in quart glass containers by the milk man. I loved that whole milk on cereal, but also on sliced fresh peaches or the strawberries we delightfully gathered from wild patches growing in the field near where we lived. I remember lots of oranges being available for snacks, cut up in quarters served on a plate while listening to the radio or later on, the new TV.
We also had two green apple trees growing in our yard on Honore Avenue. If you waited for any of those little green sours to drop, they would not only be bruised but have a worm in them. Sometimes we tried climbing the tree, stepping onto long branches to retrieve the biggest and most tart. Most times we scooted back down empty handed since the apples were higher than we could climb. More times than not we got yelled at for climbing in the trees. We would then grab the clothes pole, a 6 foot tall 2x4 board with a long nail hammered into one end, off of the clothes line in the back yard and knock down all the apples we could reach. Invariably, mom would see us eating those green apples and yell at us saying we were going to get a belly ache.....we never did! I don't remember if she used the apples from our trees or bought different apples from the farm stands, but she made one very luscious apple pie. She usually made more than one since there were so many family members. And we never got a sliver of those pies until we cleaned our plates of whatever she had prepared that night for supper. We served ourselves as we sat down to the family meal and were encouraged to take a spoonful of the vegetables we so hated. If we put it on our plate, we had to eat it. We always made room for the dessert Mom made, usually a couple of times a week, after those evening meals. It seems, though, there was always an apple pie after our big Sunday dinner in those days.
As you can see, we ate good healthy meals most of the time. Ours was a blue collar family whose father was employed in a factory where the worker's unions periodically went on strike for better conditions and wages (mostly wages). I don't recall the strikes lasting very long, but with the loss in pay during that time, every penny was stretched as far as possible. It meant buying foods that filled us up while spending as little money as possible. At those times my mother would make huge pots of white beans and fresh batches of delicious cornbread. That sustained us for many, many weeks. I don't think we ever got tired of those beans and cornbread. It was a good, filling meal to keep hungry bellies happy. Don't get me wrong, we were never the poor starving kids you see in many of today's third world countries, but money was tight most of the time. To this day my sister makes that very same meal at our family reunions with big pots of beans and many pans of sweet buttered cornbread disappearing throughout the day. We, as other families in those days, had hard times due to many situations. Mom made sure we had three meals a day, especially a good filling breakfast before heading off to school. I was never much of a breakfast person, but I do remember eating small bites of scrambled eggs and toast, oatmeal or cold cereal (Wheaties, I think), and always a big glass of cold milk. That was the routine we were exposed to growing up in the 1950's. As I grew older into the teen years I slept to the last minute before rushing to ready myself in our one shared bathroom (mom made up a schedule with bathroom times for everyone in 15 minutes intervals) for the school day. Sadly, I chose to skip breakfast during my morning routine in those years.
Now, some 50 years later, I have put the breakfast routine back in my day as I continue on my quest to lose weight. I am finally realizing what my mother and many other mothers of long ago knew about food and eating. Breakfast is a must for the body to start the day. Fueling in the morning gives your body a good, strong start and lessens the change of overeating at night. We form habits throughout our lifetimes, some good, some bad, but the one good habit you want tostart and maintain is eating 3 healthy meals a day starting with a healthy breakfast. Living to a ripe old age depends on many variables, but you can certainly have a longer life by monitoring the food and drink you choose to put into your body. If you become overweight as you age (and most of us do), it might be time to reassess what and how much is being put into the body. If you get your thoughts clear on what and when you're eating, how much you're eating and how it is affecting your health, then you can lose that weight. It takes time and a realistic study of what works best for your body, knowing what is best for you and forming a plan of your own choosing. My mother was blessed with a long life because she had some very good genes and understood the importance of good food. She loved food, but had the courage to corral those overeating desires most of the time. She gave in sometimes to those delicious cakes or pies, but for the most part she knew what to eat to maintain her health. I, too, love food and have managed to find the balance needed to control the food intake and take care of my body. Who knows, maybe I will live as long as my mother. Even if I don't, I know the body that is laid out in that casket when my time comes will be a lot lighter for the bearers to haul out of the church. But that is way down the road....at least I hope so.
For now, I continue to march through this life knowing I may have the same body type as my mother, but am not her. She did not define herself by how she looked or what she ate, nor do I. I would rather be defined and remembered for my thoughts and deeds and not how I looked. What impact I have on the lives of those around me, who know me, is very important. This body will be long gone and mostly forgotten, but hopefully the words I speak and write will have much meaning for those lives and reside within them for a long time....maybe even pass it on.
We also had two green apple trees growing in our yard on Honore Avenue. If you waited for any of those little green sours to drop, they would not only be bruised but have a worm in them. Sometimes we tried climbing the tree, stepping onto long branches to retrieve the biggest and most tart. Most times we scooted back down empty handed since the apples were higher than we could climb. More times than not we got yelled at for climbing in the trees. We would then grab the clothes pole, a 6 foot tall 2x4 board with a long nail hammered into one end, off of the clothes line in the back yard and knock down all the apples we could reach. Invariably, mom would see us eating those green apples and yell at us saying we were going to get a belly ache.....we never did! I don't remember if she used the apples from our trees or bought different apples from the farm stands, but she made one very luscious apple pie. She usually made more than one since there were so many family members. And we never got a sliver of those pies until we cleaned our plates of whatever she had prepared that night for supper. We served ourselves as we sat down to the family meal and were encouraged to take a spoonful of the vegetables we so hated. If we put it on our plate, we had to eat it. We always made room for the dessert Mom made, usually a couple of times a week, after those evening meals. It seems, though, there was always an apple pie after our big Sunday dinner in those days.
As you can see, we ate good healthy meals most of the time. Ours was a blue collar family whose father was employed in a factory where the worker's unions periodically went on strike for better conditions and wages (mostly wages). I don't recall the strikes lasting very long, but with the loss in pay during that time, every penny was stretched as far as possible. It meant buying foods that filled us up while spending as little money as possible. At those times my mother would make huge pots of white beans and fresh batches of delicious cornbread. That sustained us for many, many weeks. I don't think we ever got tired of those beans and cornbread. It was a good, filling meal to keep hungry bellies happy. Don't get me wrong, we were never the poor starving kids you see in many of today's third world countries, but money was tight most of the time. To this day my sister makes that very same meal at our family reunions with big pots of beans and many pans of sweet buttered cornbread disappearing throughout the day. We, as other families in those days, had hard times due to many situations. Mom made sure we had three meals a day, especially a good filling breakfast before heading off to school. I was never much of a breakfast person, but I do remember eating small bites of scrambled eggs and toast, oatmeal or cold cereal (Wheaties, I think), and always a big glass of cold milk. That was the routine we were exposed to growing up in the 1950's. As I grew older into the teen years I slept to the last minute before rushing to ready myself in our one shared bathroom (mom made up a schedule with bathroom times for everyone in 15 minutes intervals) for the school day. Sadly, I chose to skip breakfast during my morning routine in those years.
Now, some 50 years later, I have put the breakfast routine back in my day as I continue on my quest to lose weight. I am finally realizing what my mother and many other mothers of long ago knew about food and eating. Breakfast is a must for the body to start the day. Fueling in the morning gives your body a good, strong start and lessens the change of overeating at night. We form habits throughout our lifetimes, some good, some bad, but the one good habit you want tostart and maintain is eating 3 healthy meals a day starting with a healthy breakfast. Living to a ripe old age depends on many variables, but you can certainly have a longer life by monitoring the food and drink you choose to put into your body. If you become overweight as you age (and most of us do), it might be time to reassess what and how much is being put into the body. If you get your thoughts clear on what and when you're eating, how much you're eating and how it is affecting your health, then you can lose that weight. It takes time and a realistic study of what works best for your body, knowing what is best for you and forming a plan of your own choosing. My mother was blessed with a long life because she had some very good genes and understood the importance of good food. She loved food, but had the courage to corral those overeating desires most of the time. She gave in sometimes to those delicious cakes or pies, but for the most part she knew what to eat to maintain her health. I, too, love food and have managed to find the balance needed to control the food intake and take care of my body. Who knows, maybe I will live as long as my mother. Even if I don't, I know the body that is laid out in that casket when my time comes will be a lot lighter for the bearers to haul out of the church. But that is way down the road....at least I hope so.
For now, I continue to march through this life knowing I may have the same body type as my mother, but am not her. She did not define herself by how she looked or what she ate, nor do I. I would rather be defined and remembered for my thoughts and deeds and not how I looked. What impact I have on the lives of those around me, who know me, is very important. This body will be long gone and mostly forgotten, but hopefully the words I speak and write will have much meaning for those lives and reside within them for a long time....maybe even pass it on.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Finding Harry's Son
I have been working on an ancestry tree of my family for several years now. I am one of seven children my parents produced over the 46 years of their marriage. My father suddenly passed away when I was about 25 years old and while I thought often of the family's heritage, I continued on with my life having two small babies of my own at that time. It is only in my later life that I became extremely interested with the histories of both my parents families. My father was one of nine children in his family and my mother was one of seven, having one full sister and five half brothers and sisters. So I was looking at researching many days and months for the particulars of each child in each family. I did this mostly through Ancestry.com and obtained much of the information from their databases. I also did much searching of my childhood memories to remember to whom each one married, children born to them and when they passed away.
Since my mother and father have both passed on, I was left seeking help from my older brothers and sisters. At our family reunion in 2008, I had an opportunity to talk to my oldest brother Dick, who finally gave me some information about my dad's younger brother Harry. Harry died suddenly from a massive heart attack at the age of forty six. I remember this time, but am unsure of the year or the circumstances surrounding his death. I do remember Dad taking off work and driving somewhere with Harry's wife Sylvia. Dad was so upset with the loss of his dearly loved younger brother. I remember it weighing heavily on him during that year, seeing a sadness in him as never before. Dick told me that Harry went to visit another of my father's brothers, Rex, who was an Air Force major stationed at an air base in North Dakota. Harry had the heart attack and died while at the air base. His wife Sylvia came down to Illinois from Michigan, where they lived, and with my dad drove to North Dakota to retrieve the body. I don't remember the funeral in Michigan since it was a long car trip with the cost alone preventing all of us from attending.
Harry was ten years younger than my dad and much too young to die. I remember feeling so bad for Roger, Harry's only child, since he was but 17 when this happened. He had to be supportive of his mother while suffering the loss of his beloved father. Sylvia and Roger stayed in Michigan and as usual within larger families, we lost contact with them. I have often wondered what happened to him and his mother, but could never find any information about them from family or on the Internet. I didn't know if Sylvia remarried, died or still lived in Michigan. I didn't have any information or facts on Roger...no birth date or even where he was born. I didn't know Sylvia's maiden name or how she and Harry met or when they married. I don't even know if Harry's name was just "Harry" or something more as in "Harold". It is difficult to know in my dad's family because my grandparents used nicknames all the time, but that's another story!
This past Wednesday, I was doing some work on the family tree when I had an idea to search Facebook for a Roger Barnhill. I thought it was a long shot, but maybe he or one of his children (I was assuming he was still alive and had children) would have a profile or page. Several Roger Barnhill pages came up and the first one I looked at had a picture of a man and woman. I could not tell if it was our Roger since one changes over 50 years and he had always looked like his mother, which I vaguely remember. He listed his high school as one near Dearborn, Michigan, where I knew they had lived. I looked at several other Roger Barnhill pages and by sheer age alone eliminated them. I decided to send the first Roger this message:
I am happy to say that he sent me this message:
Hello Bonnie. I am the long lost son of Harry. I am living in Memphis TN now and have for the last 28 years. I will give you my email address. Good to hear from you.
I feel like I've hit a jackpot of sorts since I have been looking for him for so long. I sent him a long email detailing the facts in my life and that of my family. I am asking him all those questions about his mom, dad and about his life from then till now that have gone unanswered for so many years. It was good to hear from him and he is now a friend on Facebook. He is in the process of compiling that information for me so I can insert it into this very old family tree.
The twigs of this ever growing tree have formed many branches throughout many centuries. We are all, in essence, a part of a gigantic family tree growing in time with many connecting branches filtering up from the strong trunk through history. I firmly believe we need to look back in our history to achieve a better future. The persons resting on each leaf atop the twigs and branches within those family trees have been a part of your life, either creating it or having an affect in some way on the life you live and lead today. It is important to pass this information on to our younger generations so they, too, may better understand themselves. These are their connections from the yesterdays that give them hope for all the tomorrows to come.
Some ancestors may have been famous in either a good or bad way, but I feel most of our ancestors were common everyday people looking for a better life for their generation and the generations to come. Although they are gone, some more recently than others, our fathers and forefathers left us histories conceived from a single strand of golden thread and woven into our inner fabric. We are now weaving with that same golden strand into the fabric of our children and grandchildren and into their future children. What a joy it was this week to find another piece of woven fabric that will sit atop the one leaf that completes Harry's branch on our ever expanding family tree. Another day, another branch complete and still another one to grow.
Since my mother and father have both passed on, I was left seeking help from my older brothers and sisters. At our family reunion in 2008, I had an opportunity to talk to my oldest brother Dick, who finally gave me some information about my dad's younger brother Harry. Harry died suddenly from a massive heart attack at the age of forty six. I remember this time, but am unsure of the year or the circumstances surrounding his death. I do remember Dad taking off work and driving somewhere with Harry's wife Sylvia. Dad was so upset with the loss of his dearly loved younger brother. I remember it weighing heavily on him during that year, seeing a sadness in him as never before. Dick told me that Harry went to visit another of my father's brothers, Rex, who was an Air Force major stationed at an air base in North Dakota. Harry had the heart attack and died while at the air base. His wife Sylvia came down to Illinois from Michigan, where they lived, and with my dad drove to North Dakota to retrieve the body. I don't remember the funeral in Michigan since it was a long car trip with the cost alone preventing all of us from attending.
Harry was ten years younger than my dad and much too young to die. I remember feeling so bad for Roger, Harry's only child, since he was but 17 when this happened. He had to be supportive of his mother while suffering the loss of his beloved father. Sylvia and Roger stayed in Michigan and as usual within larger families, we lost contact with them. I have often wondered what happened to him and his mother, but could never find any information about them from family or on the Internet. I didn't know if Sylvia remarried, died or still lived in Michigan. I didn't have any information or facts on Roger...no birth date or even where he was born. I didn't know Sylvia's maiden name or how she and Harry met or when they married. I don't even know if Harry's name was just "Harry" or something more as in "Harold". It is difficult to know in my dad's family because my grandparents used nicknames all the time, but that's another story!
This past Wednesday, I was doing some work on the family tree when I had an idea to search Facebook for a Roger Barnhill. I thought it was a long shot, but maybe he or one of his children (I was assuming he was still alive and had children) would have a profile or page. Several Roger Barnhill pages came up and the first one I looked at had a picture of a man and woman. I could not tell if it was our Roger since one changes over 50 years and he had always looked like his mother, which I vaguely remember. He listed his high school as one near Dearborn, Michigan, where I knew they had lived. I looked at several other Roger Barnhill pages and by sheer age alone eliminated them. I decided to send the first Roger this message:
Hi Roger, my name is Bonnie Barnhill Victoria. I am looking for my uncle's (Harry Barnhill) son named Roger. Harry was my father Lloyd's younger brother who passed away at the age of 46. Harry and his wife Sylvia lived in Michigan when he died. My family lived in and was raised in Illinois. If this sounds familiar to you, please send a message back to me. I am compiling a Barnhill family tree and have much information, but we don't know what happened to Roger. Thank you, Bonnie
I am happy to say that he sent me this message:
Hello Bonnie. I am the long lost son of Harry. I am living in Memphis TN now and have for the last 28 years. I will give you my email address. Good to hear from you.
I feel like I've hit a jackpot of sorts since I have been looking for him for so long. I sent him a long email detailing the facts in my life and that of my family. I am asking him all those questions about his mom, dad and about his life from then till now that have gone unanswered for so many years. It was good to hear from him and he is now a friend on Facebook. He is in the process of compiling that information for me so I can insert it into this very old family tree.
The twigs of this ever growing tree have formed many branches throughout many centuries. We are all, in essence, a part of a gigantic family tree growing in time with many connecting branches filtering up from the strong trunk through history. I firmly believe we need to look back in our history to achieve a better future. The persons resting on each leaf atop the twigs and branches within those family trees have been a part of your life, either creating it or having an affect in some way on the life you live and lead today. It is important to pass this information on to our younger generations so they, too, may better understand themselves. These are their connections from the yesterdays that give them hope for all the tomorrows to come.
Some ancestors may have been famous in either a good or bad way, but I feel most of our ancestors were common everyday people looking for a better life for their generation and the generations to come. Although they are gone, some more recently than others, our fathers and forefathers left us histories conceived from a single strand of golden thread and woven into our inner fabric. We are now weaving with that same golden strand into the fabric of our children and grandchildren and into their future children. What a joy it was this week to find another piece of woven fabric that will sit atop the one leaf that completes Harry's branch on our ever expanding family tree. Another day, another branch complete and still another one to grow.
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