Health
My great grandmother, Henriette Schumacher came to the United States reluctantly, with her sister, brother-in-law, and their two young children. Henriette’s mother had insisted that she go to help with the children. She was worried about the immigration to a new land so far away, and she figured that if both girls went, they could protect each other, and be company for each other. I think my great great grandmother knew her girls pretty well, and thought that the loneliness might be too much for either of them alone, and so going together would help to alleviate that loneliness. It was in the United States that my great grandmother would meet and marry my great grandfather, and would never again be sorry that she had come here.
When the family moved from Minnesota to North Dakota, they bough some land, and would later move to a better piece of land, with a wonderful artesian well, that worked so well, that it formed a ten acre lake right near the family home. During his courtship of my grandmother, Anna, my grandfather, Allen Luther Spencer stocked the lake with a dozen small catfish from the river. For some years, the catfish were forgotten, until Carl and Henriette’s son, Fred noticed them. My great grandfather, Carl Schumacher built a flat bottomed boat for the three youngest children, who were the only ones living at home then, and they went fishing. By this time, the lake was teeming with catfish, and they practically jumped into the boat voluntarily. Great Grandma Schumacher would fry up those fish, and the family would have a feast. It was catfish that was fed to the threshers when they came too and Aunt Bertie says they tasted so good, that she can them from memory. Great Grandma rolled them in cornmeal and fried them in country butter, like only she could do. Aunt Bertie said she has never had catfish that could beat her mother’s. Great Grandma Schumacher was also the first one in the whole countryside to make fried chickens from young chickens. Before that everyone used mature chickens, which can be tough, they were stewed with dumplings.
When my great grandmother was in her early fifties, she got rheumatoid arthritis. Before very long, she was unable to do the things she used to do. A very short time later, that she was no longer the person who did the cooking, and while the girls tried to make those 
most loved foods taste the same as their mother had done all those years, they could never match the taste. It’s always sad when that happens. You can follow the recipe, but somehow, it just doesn’t taste the same. I think that is because, try as they might, most of those great cooks didn’t use a recipe, and writing it down is really their best guess at the quantities they used, and the person following the recipe is hard pressed to figure out the exact combination. I feel sorry for my aunts, uncle and great grandpa, because they remembered the way things used to be, but knew that they could never be that way again.
Sometimes in families, there can be enough years in between the oldest child and the youngest child, that it is almost like having two or more families. My parents family was that way to a degree. My sister Cheryl and I were the oldest, 2 years apart, and 3 years after I was born, came my three little sisters, 2 years apart each. It wasn’t so much that there was such a difference, but it was enough of a difference so that Cheryl and I always called our younger sisters the three little girls…and so did our parents. My friend, Ambra, has a similar situation with her family, and she calls the youngest children, the littles, which I think is very cute. My mother’s family had nine children, and to a degree, at least while they were growing up, there seemed to be three families. The oldest three girls, my mom and her brothers, and the youngest three girls….and my Aunt Bonnie was the oldest of the youngest.
Being the oldest, even if it is only the oldest of the youngest kids, puts that child in a place of being looked up to. You are the cool one, and for girls, always the prettier, more sophisticated one…even if that’s not really so, because all my aunts are very pretty. Nevertheless, it always seems that way. I think I can understand why Aunt Dixie and Aunt Sandy would look up to Aunt Bonne, because she has always been a sweetheart. Her kindness is well known in the family, and the many times she has given a gift that was so priceless, in the form of the most beautiful wedding cakes and she wouldn’t take money for them…that’s priceless, and it will never be forgotten. and it has endeared her to all the family. But it wasn’t just what she could do for you that made Aunt Bonnie so wonderful. There was so much more.
For many years she took care of her husband, my Uncle Jack’s mom, and then she took care of Uncle Jack too. She made the 
years of their lives wonderful, happy times, and in the last years, she brought comfort. Not everyone can be a caregiver, and having been one myself, I can tell you that it is a hard job, but you do it for love. And that is why Aunt Bonnie was a caregiver. She showed such great strength for so long, she fought hard, doing all she could to hold death at bay, and when death came, she like all caregivers was not ready. Nevertheless, death came and her life was forever changed. But Aunt Bonnie is strong, and while nothing will ever be the same, she carries Uncle Jack with her wherever she goes, and with great strength, she goes forward. Just like he would want her to do…and lives life. Today is Aunt Bonnie’s birthday. Happy birthday Aunt Bonnie!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
Few things can bring a parent to their knees in prayer faster than a sick child…especially when the situation is very serious. This was the position my niece, Susan Griffith and her husband, Josh found themselves in when their younger daughter, Kaytlyn became ill when she was just 18 months old. Kaytlyn was running a fever of 104.5° for most of the morning, nothing Susan did seemed to have much effect on the fever. Susan knew she had to get more help, so she took her to Urgent Care. The physician at Urgent Care, sent them to the Emergency Room at the hospital immediately. The doctors took blood, ran tests, gave her something to bring down the fever, and told Susan to keep a close eye on Kaytlyn, and bring her back if anything got worse. When they left the hospital, Kaytlyn’s fever was at 103°.
Taking Kaytlyn home proved to be a very bad idea. By the time they got home, Kaytlyn’s tongue was swelling, making it difficult to breathe. Susan immediately took her back to the 
Emergency Room. The doctors gave her an anti-swelling medication and said more tests were needed to determine the problem. They did a spinal tap, which is among one of the scariest test imaginable for a worried mom. Then they took X-rays and more blood. Still they had no answers. Kaytlyn’s fever was still fluctuating between 103° and 104°. They decided to keep her overnight, and it was going to be a long night for Susan…especially since Josh was working in North Dakota.
Because the hospital in Powell is small, Susan and Josh decided that they wanted to take Kaytlyn to Billings, Montana. The doctors were very much against the idea, but after a while, they consented, provided they went by ambulance. Susan rode with Kaytlyn in the ambulance, and Josh left North Dakota, headed for Billings. Josh’s mother went to their house to get some clothes for Susan and Kaytlyn. Susan’s sister, my niece, Machelle Moore, picked Susan’s other daughter, 
Jala up from school, and kept her overnight…unheard of for Jala on a school night, probably causing her to worry too.
The ride to Billings seemed to take hours, but finally, Kaytlyn was admitted to the Pediatric Unit at Saint Vincent’s Health Care…it was 11pm…a horribly long day. Josh’s mother made sure Susan and Kaytlyn got to the room, and then had to head back to Powell. Josh was still en route to Billings from North Dakota, but Kaytlyn seemed to be doing better now, and her fever had dropped to 102°. She was finally able to sleep, but for Susan, there was nothing to do but sit and think. It occurred to her how blessed they had been, that they had never had to bring their children to a hospital before. Still, they were there now, and she didn’t know what was wrong yet.
Nothing is worse for a parent than sitting in a hospital, wondering if they are going to lose their child. Susan finally dozed off at some point before Josh arrived…from pure exhaustion. She awoke to the phone ringing. It was Josh. He had made it to Billings, but his truck broke down 
on the interstate. Someone helped him get it off the road, and a highway patrolman gave him a ride to the hospital. I can imagine how Susan felt when Josh arrived…like falling to pieces. She needed someone to hold her together, and thankfully, Josh was finally able to be there. Pure relief rained over her. The morning brought more relief, when the doctor said it was Tonsillitis. They recommended that her tonsils be removed in a month or so, and sent them home. They went home with thankful hearts. Their baby girl was still with them, and they knew just how blessed they were. They would never forget their miracle. Today Kaytlyn is 6 years old. Happy birthday Kaytlyn!! Have a wonderful day!! We love you!!
Whenever life gets too hectic, I find myself wanting a place of solace, so I can get out of running mode, and into relaxing mode. Many of us don’t realize that our lives are even hectic. We just think it’s normal, and maybe it is, but normal can be very hectic. My Uncle Bill understood how I feel, because he felt the same way too…and he was a kid!! We mistakenly assume that kids can’t have a hectic life, or that things weren’t hectic in days gone by, when life was supposed to be so much more simple. Maybe things were simple back then, but that did not make things easier back then. What takes us minutes to do these days, probably took them hours, making it necessary to cram more things into a working day than we do today. And yet, with our modern inventions, our lives today are always making us rush from this place to that place…always in a hurry.
It’s no wonder that I, like my Uncle Bill, enjoy getting out into nature to hike the trails. When you are out on the trail, you can only go so fast, and it’s harder to rush yourself. The beauty of nature around you draws your attention away from the pressing things in your life, and you find yourself drinking in the smells of the trees and flowers, the singing of the birds, the sound of the breeze through the trees, the beauty of the scenes around you, and the feel of the air on your face. It is the place I want to be and the things I want to be doing. When Bob and I 
are out on the trail, being one with nature, it is such a beautiful time. And in our hectic lives, we need those breaks to recharge our systems. The trails are perfect for that.
Uncle Bill loved to be out in the woods of Wisconsin and Minnesota, mostly around Holyoke, Minnesota. He talks about going to his private place in the center of a shaded area, to sit on a log, listen to the birds, watch the squirrels, and “even” read a book. I have to wonder if Uncle Bill maybe didn’t like reading very much at that time. It wouldn’t be something so unusual for a boy. Most of them seem to busy with other things to consider reading as an important pass time. Nevertheless, whatever solace we each find in nature is probably unique to each of us. No two people are the same, and no two people have the same stresses, so each finds solace in different things or in different ways, even in the same place.
When you’re young, you look for certain traits in a man, but I think that most of us probably look for many of the wrong traits. It’s not that we don’t choose good men, but simply that we choose men for the wrong reasons. As a teenager, I looked for a guy that was cute and one that had a nice personality. That is how most dating starts, but if cute and a good personality is all he has, you are going to get bored pretty fast, and it will be a good thing that you did. We look for men who have the same interests as we do, because they have a nice car, or because they take us nice places. These are not bad traits either. Trying to date on a bicycle is pretty tough, and if he doesn’t take you out anywhere or you have nothing in common…again, you are going to get bored pretty quick. It’s important to look for someone who believes the same as you do…someone who is going somewhere in life…someone with the same values and goals as you have. Those are important traits…right?
Well, they are, but you really need to look a little further down the road than that short term, madly in love, your are so handsome, I can’t breathe without you, passion, because while those things are truly important, Those things are going to fade later in life. That man who was so perfect, so handsome, who took your breath away…is going to get older. He might lose all that hair that you loved, or suddenly have lots of wrinkles. After living with him for 30 plus years, you have seen it all…his good habits, bad habits, and horrible habits. He is maybe a little more flabby, and you have discovered that you can indeed breathe when he is not with you. I heard it said once, that “what you lack in spontaneity, you make up for in consistency” and you find yourself thinking just how true that is. Do you still love him? Well, the answer for me is an overwhelming, “Yes!!”
So what traits should we be looking for, or hoping we stumble into, since most of us at the time of our marriage are too love struck to think clearly enough to look for the right traits in a man? I’ll tell you what I have found out. When you take those vows, and the minister says, “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part”, it may or may not mean your sickness or health, or for better or worse in your own lives, or even your finances. I’m sure most people only think of it in those terms, but as we age…while we may get weaker or look a little worse for wear, it is likely, first to be our parents who will be weak or sick, and that is when those vows really come into play. That is when the traits that you thought were so important will begin to seem like silly school girl ideas of Prince Charming.
It is the man who sticks with you when you have to give time to others in need, and doesn’t complain because he is home alone while you take care of those things…the man who gets up at 3 in the morning because a parent has fallen and you have to go pick them up…and then he has to get up, as do you and go to work in the morning…the man who doesn’t complain about helping in the care of an elderly parent, even if it means eating late, and falling asleep in your chairs, watching television…the man who helps out around the house, and doesn’t mind if it isn’t spick and span, because you have been too busy cleaning your parents homes…yes, it’s that man that I want in my life. He is the one who may not have known about all this stuff when he married you, but as time went on and things changed in your lives, he stuck with you…worked with you…walked with you, through it all That is the kind of husband a woman really wants if she thinks about it. And, that is the husband I got when I married Bob, 39 years ago today. I was young and couldn’t have seen those traits in him if I had tried. I was too busy looking at things like how cute he was, how much we had in common, what a great 
car he had, and the fact that he took me places. I was too busy trying to catch my breath when he was around, and missing him horribly when he wasn’t. So, like most women who are still married after all these years, all I can do is thank God for bringing this wonderful man into my life. That is the only way it could possibly be that we are here, today, celebrating 39 years and counting, even after all that life has handed us. I love you Bob…more and more every year, every month, every day, every minute and every second. You are my one and only, my soul mate, the love of my life. I thank God for you every day. I am so blessed to be married to you. Happy 39th Anniversary, Honey!! I will always love you!!
Growing up, I recall that my sisters and I were often called, with a degree of surprise, the Spencer girls. I know that a lot of people would say that was simply our last name, but that didn’t really seem to be the reason. Even our boyfriends got that. People would say, “You are going out with one of the Spencer girls?” like they were shocked about it…or like they wondered how they had managed to live through meeting our dad…which couldn’t have been further from the truth about how our dad was. I know that some dads are the kind of guy who practically threatens any guy who wants to take out their daughters, with bodily harm if they break her heart. Now, don’t get me wrong, because our dad would have done whatever he needed to do to protect his daughters, but he was a man who would give a guy the benefit of the doubt…until they proved that they were trouble. Nevertheless, every guy we went out with was a Knot Head!! I suppose that was Dad’s way of saying that, in his opinion, no guy was good enough for his little girls…and believe me, most of them weren’t. The keepers were the ones who showed Dad that they weren’t Knot Heads.
We used to get…almost annoyed with Dad when he called guys Knot Heads, but deep inside, we knew that it was really his way of telling us that he wanted the very best for us, and this guy would have to prove himself before he would believe that he was worthy of our love. He wanted us to have men in our lives who would be good to us, treat us like ladies, protect us, and most of all, love us…until death we do part. How could we ever really be mad at him about that? It simply showed the love our dad had for his daughters…and down the road, granddaughters and grandsons, although the girlfriends weren’t Knot Heads.
Dad always had a way about him. He was able to tease us about boyfriends and yet, really mean that he wasn’t sure this guy was any good. Even while we protested at the name he gave them, we knew that it was more about us than the guy. He wanted us to know that his love for his daughters made him doubt most of the guys we went out with. He knew what most teenaged boys and even young men in their twenties were really like. Marriage and respect weren’t what they had in mind…unless they were the right guy, and that guy would endure the scrutiny and the doubt, and go on to prove to Dad and his daughters that they were the kind of men Dad wanted for his daughters…and not the Knot Head that he had thought them to be.
Looking back now, I am thankful for the scrutiny my dad used to view the men we dated, because it was through that scrutiny that I ended up with my husband, Bob. Yes, Bob was a Knot Head when we first started dating, just like every other guy I dated, but in later years, after he endured the scrutiny and passed the test, Dad often told me how proud he was of Bob. He liked him a lot, and respected him very much. Dad knew he could count on Bob to help out when anyone in the family needed help, but more importantly, he knew that Bob would be there for me throughout our lives. And he was right. Bob had proved himself, and in the last days of Dad’s life, Dad knew that he could count on Bob to help with the caregiving work that was needed in our family as well as in Bob’s, because Bob was definitely no longer a Knot Head.
Lately, my cousin, James Jay Spencer has been on my mind quite a bit. He passed away seven years ago today. Jim was a happy, smiley little boy, whose life ended far too soon, after he was diagnosed with Mesothelioma. It had been some time since we had seen Jim, and I really do regret that, because my cousin, Jim was a great guy, and I loved him very much.
During the time of Jim’s illness, Uncle Bill naturally focused on the time he had left with Jim. They spent as much time together as they could. In the last few years of his life, Jim went to see his dad every day, something that pleased Uncle Bill very much. They would do lots of things together…or nothing but sit and talk. It didn’t really matter. They shared a number of interests, making them very good friends. Losing a child, no matter how old, is a devastating event in a parent’s life, and one that they never really get past. It is always there, just under the surface…a bittersweet memory that can be hard to talk about, and easy to cry over.
As a little boy, Jimmy loved to play in the vacant lot across the street from their house. The neighborhood kids played there in the summer, but in the winter, it became an ice skating rink. The kids who had skates skated, and the ones who didn’t like my cousin Jim, just took a running slide on the ice. Jim quickly grew to love the ice. One day when he was about 4 years old, he came running into the house, and when his dad asked if he had been skating, he said “No, I’ve been swiding on my boots!” Soon, his love of the ice turned into a love of hockey. At first, his team couldn’t seem to win a game, but Jim always said the same thing, “We’re gonna win this one, Dad.” As time went on, the team did win and Jim got to be a great hockey player, in spite of the fact that he wasn’t real tall. Then, he passed that love of hockey onto his son, Cody who was a great player too.
Uncle Bill and Jim shared more than a love of sports. They understood each other. Jim’s loss was devastating to Uncle Bill. His mind was already slipping, and the memories of the past were quickly becoming all he had left…his children and his family history. And now, his youngest child was gone. He wrote the things he remembered of Jim’s life…the precious memories…the thoughts and feelings…all the accomplishments…all the things they had done. He set Jim’s place in the family history, and at the end of it all, he finished with the words that were the sweetest to his tired memory, “I called him Jimbo. He called me Daddio.”
My grand niece, Siara took the first semester off, from her studies at college, to work two jobs and save up her money for the second semester. Now she will be heading back to school in January to continue her studies I the area of nutrition. This might be a tough semester, because she has to take a lot of math and chemistry…not her favorite subjects, but necessary for the work Siara wants to do when she finishes college. It never really occurred to me that a degree in the area of nutrition would require those subjects, but I guess I am still thinking along the lines of the food groups and things like that. Today’s nutritionists know much more than that, and so she will be studying math and chemistry. This was a bit of a surprise to me because I never thought of Siara as the math and chemistry type, so I guess she fooled me there.
Nutrition is a big field, with a lot of more specific specialties that graduates can go into. Siara wants to go specifically into Diabetic Nutrition. Since my mother-in-law is a diabetic, I can attest to the fact that nutritional help in this area is vital. So many diabetics eat foods that are terribly wrong for them. Of course, like most of us, knowing that the food you are eating and changing how you eat, are two very different things. I don’t know exactly what a nutritionist could do about that, but maybe they could help the patient find ways to make the food they need to eat seem less distasteful. I think it would be a noble effort for any nutritionist. Adult Onset Diabetes is one of the few diseases that can often be completely controlled by diet, and yet very few patients actually manage to control it that way. I have to wonder if a nutritional plan that was more interesting would help that patient stick to it. I don’t know what things 
Siara will be focusing on in her career choice, but I do know that her work will help a lot of people, and to me that is a lofty goal.
Of course, all work and no play would definitely make Siara a dull girl, and we can’t have that, because there is nothing dull about Siara. She has an active social life, with a large group of friends, and one special guy that she has been dating since November. Time will tell us where that will go, but I can say that any guy who has the honor of dating Siara is a blessed man indeed, because she is one of the sweetest and yet goofiest people I know. Today is Siara’s birthday. Happy birthday Siara!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
Most of us have watched the movie Groundhog’s Day before, and thought that it was a funny show, and it was…at least for a while. Then, it got to the point where you, like the character in the show, thought this was ridiculous. You already know what is going to happen, because it has happened over and over again. For most of us, this scenario would be a serious annoyance, but for my mother-in-law, this is her life…and she isn’t bothered by it at all…nor am I. I suppose that because most people think of Alzheimer’s Disease only in it’s negative aspects, they think that the loss of recent memory is the most horrible thing that could happen to a person, and in the area of new additions to a family, that is true to a degree, but while it is sad that this grandmother will never really remember the new in-laws that arrive from the marriages of her children or grandchildren, nor will she ever know her new grandchildren, and yes…that is very sad for us…but she will never feel that sadness. Nor will she ever feel the sadness of loss, and that is a good thing in my mind.
Most of us go through many times of loss and sadness during our lifetime, but those with Alzheimer’s Disease don’t. We can think of Alzheimer’s Disease as a horrible end of things, and since I have never seen the very end of the disease, I can’t say that it doesn’t end horribly, but between the beginning and the end of it, there can be some very funny times. Things like not wanting to go to bed until someone comes to tell them if they won a prize or not, and then when they are told that the awards ceremony is the next night, they go to bed without question. It all depends on what things they were interested in before. My mother-in-law liked the thought of winning the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes, so that was the illusion her mind came up with, and that was my answer to it.
I am thankful that her life was filled with good things, so that her memories are sweet and not scary, because I also think that Alzheimer’s Disease can be very torturous for those who have memories of sad or scary times…like being lost for instance. I would hate to think of that kind of a memory being the kind that was running through my mother-in-law’s head, and sadly I have seen people with the disease who live with that memory over and over again. Nothing can be done, but to comfort their worried mind…over and over again. I can only feel bad for them and for their families.
From what I have seen of Alzheimer’s Disease, every action taken by the patient has more logic to it than people know. While the person who is asking for help over and over before asking someone to let them in, has probably been locked out of the house at night before, the person, like my mother-in-law, might pour her drink into her plate, because pureed food looks like oatmeal to her. She is also known to play with a blanket or napkin or nothing at all, and yet she is doing something very specific. If you know her like I do, you realize that she is working of an afghan or a potholder or a dishcloth, because for years she made those things, and she thinks she still is. I guess, when you think about it, all they really need is someone to understand that they are stuck in a time loop.
As our parents get older, and less able to do the same things they used to when they were younger, and we come to expect less and less of them, and sadly sometimes we include them less in things. It’s not because they don’t want to be included, because they do, but because we don’t think they can do things anymore. As the new year approached, many people were at parties, and many of their parents were at home. Of those that included their parents, and were at a place where they could dance, I have to wonder how many made sure that their parents got to dance. Sometimes, it is harder to pull that off, and all too often the kids just don’t think about it. Still, when that forgotten dancer gets the chance to dance again, it lifts their spirit so much. I got to see that exact thing happen last year at my mom’s New Years Eve party, when her new grandson, by marriage, Jason Sawdon took Mom out on the dance floor and they danced.
Since my Dad’s passing, we had not thought about getting Mom out on the dance floor. Since her knee injury, she has used a walker, and it would have been very difficult for her to dance. Nevertheless, Jason would have none of that. He got Mom, his new grandmother, out on the dance floor and filled in for our dad for that special New Years dance that Mom and Dad always shared. It was such a precious moment, and I don’t think there was a dry eye in the place. It occurred to me that we had inadvertently left Mom out of part of the festivities, leaving her…a forgotten dancer. It wasn’t that we intended to do that, but more that we didn’t think about it. Dad had always had their special dance with her, and he had gone home.
I think that it’s easy to look at that situation and accept that a part of someone’s life might be 
over, when you are very close to that situation. We girls, being daughters and therefore not thinking like a man might think that was the case, and even the sons-in-law and grandsons who were there at the time of my Dad’s passing, could not see what Mom might need. We had watched with tears in our eyes, as they danced what turned out to be their last dance, because we were so grateful that they had the opportunity again. When Dad was gone on the next New Year’s Day, we thought her dance days were over. What Jason saw was a different need, and maybe Jessi gave him the idea…I don’t know, and I have not asked, because our forgotten dancer got to dance again, and that was all that mattered.
