Caryn
My grand nephew Ethan is 4 years old today, and at this age, he is really coming into his own. He has lost the toddler aspect of his personality, and it has been replaced with a little boy with ideas of his own. He knows what he likes and what he doesn’t. And he doesn’t mind telling you what he thinks about it. Oh, don’t get me wrong, Ethan is a very well behaved little boy…he just knows what he wants to do. His mom, Chelsea told me the other day that he wanted to come to my office, which just happens to be just down the street from where he lives. He tried very hard to insist on it, but it wasn’t a good day for Chelsea to 
bring him. That just melted my heart. Ethan is such a sweet boy, but it never occurred to me that he might enjoy stopping by my office for a visit. It was just such a sweet little moment, and I told Chelsea that she would have to bring him by real soon.
Ethan has a shy side too, though. Sometimes at church, when he feels like maybe there are just too many people around, he will hardly talk to me or anyone else but his parents, grandma or his aunts. Of course, that doesn’t include the other kids, because Ethan is all about playing with the kids…any kids. He loves his little neighborhood friends, his cousins, and his friends at school, and he loves his teacher, who he often calls Mrs DeHaigler, 
instead of Mrs Haigler…a mistake that I find very cute, as I’m sure his teacher will too.
Ethan loves to laugh, and loves to hang out with the guys. If his dad or grandpa are doing something, it just must be cool, and Ethan wants to be a part of it. He is all boy, and loves doing the guy things that boys love to do. And Ethan loves to make his little sister laugh. He loves being a big brother, and loves having a live in playmate, and of course, Aurora thinks Ethan is the greatest big brother ever. On that one, she could be right…or biased, but you’ll never convince her of that. Happy birthday Ethan!! We love you!! Have a super cool day!!
As I was sending out a text today, I began to think about the changes in communication we have had through the years. In the very early years of our nation’s history, when a child married and decided to move West, it sometimes meant that family members never heard from each other again, and if they did, it was hit and miss. I’m sure that there were many broken hearted parents as a result of those moves, and I am equally certain that those moves brought about the changes in communication that we see today.
First, of course came the Pony Express, which while it greatly improved things, was still pretty slow, and news of family members passing or giving birth arrived quite some time after the fact. Not that anyone would have been able make it back in time, but it would be hard to find out after it is all over. The invention of the telephone greatly improved communication, and I’m sure people found it comforting to be able to hear the voice of their loved ones once again.
Today, with so many forms of communications, as well as ease of travel, we are able to see loved ones so often that we, maybe take it for granted. Even if you can’t be with family members, you can Skype, Video Chat, and Face Time, so not only can you hear their voice, but you can see their face, in real time.
Our modern communication abilities have maybe spoiled us to a degree. We have so many 
ways to talk and travel, and yet, I don’t know about you, but one of the main ways we communicate…texting, is probably the least personal. It seems like in our busy world, it is easier to text and then wait for the answer, than to talk on the phone. The main reason for this is that you have to hold the phone to talk, so unless it is a long conversation, or one that should be held in a more personal way, we choose the more impersonal…texting. Many people think we text too, as a way of not being too social, and maybe that is so. It seems like we are becoming more of a solitary people in some ways. Still, texting, like the Pony Express, the postal service, the telegraph, telephone, computer, and cell phone are all ways of keeping in touch.
Right before Christmas, we were at Walmart doing some shopping. There was a couple and their little girl there, and the little girl had noticed a doll house. As we walked by them, the little girl was busily trying to talk her parents into buying the doll house for her. They kept telling her that she already had a doll house at home and she never played with it. She insisted that she did, and that she would play with both of them if they would just “please buy it” for her. Of course, her parents knew what the end result of their daughter’s promise would be, and as they kept walking away, the little girl followed along behind them, doing her very best to convince them that she would keep her promise.
That little conversation took me back a number of years to when my girls were little, and we got them a doll house for Christmas. I had never had a doll house, and in my mind, it would be a treasured item for any little girl, and I’m sure they played with it for a while, but it never really became the treasure that I had expected. That isn’t really surprising, in that, a doll house can get boring after a while, because the dolls don’t do anything. Like kids today, dolls that do nothing get pretty boring after a very short time…I mean, there is only so much you can do with the imagination, and then you move on to toys with a little more action to them.
As we walked on, I was smiling to myself, because I could see how that little girl’s parents were thinking that they would just have to point out to their darling daughter, in the very near future, that she still wasn’t playing with the original doll house much, so she definitely wouldn’t have been playing with the new one, had they purchased it for her. And if she gave it some thought, I’m quite sure that she would have to agree with her parents, that while she loved her doll house, in her head, it probably wasn’t her favorite toy. The truth is that she just wanted them to buy her something, and for lack of a better choice, she opted for the first thing she saw.
My dad was always a cowboy at heart. In his younger days, he rode horses, worked on the family farm, and did all the other cowboy type things. He listened to country music, and liked old westerns on television, or attend the rodeo. But, the one thing that that, in my opinion showed his cowboy style the best, was the cowboy hat that he so often wore. You almost never saw him in any other hat on vacation, and he wore it if they went someplace that it would fit in for. I’m quite sure he hated not being able to wear it to the places that it just wasn’t appropriate.
Dad always took such good care of his hat, and you could always tell that he was one of the good guys, because his hat was always white, and of course, the good guys in any old western, wore a white hat. I suppose that was like the football teams of today. If all the helmets looked alike, how would you know which team was yours. So we always knew that Dad was a good guy, because he wore a white hat.
Oh, Dad had other hats too, and in fact I can vividly see him is one of the many baseball type hats he had, and of course, there was the hat that was a tool of his trade…the hard hat. I clearly remember him in those, but I never felt like they fit his personality like the cowboy hat did. Dad was always the guy I thought of when someone said cowboy. He wore the Bolo ties, and the western belt and vest, and what cowboy would be complete without the cowboy boots, but none of that said cowboy as much as the cowboy hat.
When I think of my dad, I have to say that one of my favorite pictures is of Dad on a horse with his white cowboy hat. He was doing one of his favorite things…taking his family on a vacation. They had taken a horseback ride on a trail, and Dad looked so happy. He was in his element, in the mountains on vacation, and riding a horse. Just what a cowboy would want to be doing.
As much as I dislike snow, and the inevitable wind that always seems to come with it, there are times when, if I have just a moment of free time, and if I stop long enough, I can look at the snow and possibly see something beautiful. It’s hard to do that though…slow down…look around…stop and smell the roses, so to speak. Everything in life these days demands a hectic schedule. Every day I try to cram everything I need to do into a day that doesn’t have enough moments in it, let alone hours.
I had just such a moment on New Years Eve. I had the day off, and Bob had to work. I still had my caregiving duties, but I had a little bit of quiet time late in the morning. I took a look outside, and there it was. The wind had quit. The snow was a little bit windblown, but smooth in many ways. The sun had come out and was shining brightly on the snow. The air was cold…frigid really, but it didn’t matter. I stepped outside, and looked at the snow. The sun was so bright, it made my eyes water, but I still couldn’t take my eyes off of it.
The snow was beautiful, but looking deeper I saw what the snow tries to hide from those who just casually glance at it. So often we miss the deep inner beauty of the snow. There in front of my eyes I saw the riches of the snow…the gems that it had been hiding…snow diamonds. “What”, you might ask, “are snow diamonds?” Well, they are not just ice crystals sparkling in the sunshine. They are much more than that. They are the little glimmer of hope that no matter how heavy our burdens are…no matter how tough our job or our life is…there are still beautiful things around us that can lift our spirits, brighten our days, soothe our souls, and mend the brokenness that comes from a life that is lived far 
too often in a hurry.
As I stood there in the crisp cold air, looking once more at the beauty that had been pointed out to me by my Lord, in an effort to show me the things He has made that I might have missed, I felt a warmth inside me…a smile that started in my heart and after making a brief stop in my consciousness, it came to rest on my face. I closed my eyes so I could fix the image in my memory. With their beauty, the snow diamonds had completed their appointed work. They had lifted this caregiver’s spirit…brightened my day…and made me feel like I could breathe again.
When my mom married my dad, on July 18, 1953, her life was about to change dramatically. Their honeymoon would be spent sightseeing along the route from Casper, Wyoming to their new home in Superior, Wisconsin, which is where they would live for the next 5 years. Being a young wife and soon mother, and living far away from your own family, and especially your parents can be hard, especially on holidays and your birthday, which for my mom, coincided with the New Year’s Day holiday. Mom was a New Year’s Baby, and that had always made her birthday extra special. As a young wife, you never know if your husband will remember your birthday, much less do something to celebrate it, But with my dad, Mom need not have worried. Of course, the day that was her birthday made remembering it easy, but the rest was all dad…well, with a little help from Mom and later the kids and grandkids. You can’t really plan a party like that every year, all by yourself.
As the years and their family grew, they would move back to Casper, Wyoming, where the younger 3 of their 5 daughters were born. Mom’s birthday would always be celebrated with a New Years Eve party, and the house would be filled joy and laughter, music and dancing, and of course, good food. Dad never forgot her birthday and made each one special. There was never a doubt as to where we would celebrate New Years Eve, because we loved having the big party at our house. Most of our friends didn’t get to do anything, but the Spencer house was always rockin’ on New Year’s Eve.
Since their wedding day, more than 59 years have come and gone. Dad left us and went home to be with the Lord, 5 years ago December 12th, and the torch has now been passed on to Mom’s daughters. Mom knows that her birthday will be celebrated in the usual style that is the Spencer tradition. The party was held, although it was, as always a 
little bit lonely, because Dad was once again celebrating with Jesus this year. Still, I know that if he was here he would have been proud of the way it turned out, because this year…like every year was better than the one before, and Mom’s birthday will be a beautiful celebration for our beautiful mom. She is one in a million, and each year starts out reminding us just how blessed we are that she is our mom. Happy birthday Mom!! We love you!!
Our New Years Eve party is a time of joyful celebration, as are most, but ours celebrates the new year and our mom’s birthday which is on New Years Day. We bring in lots of snacks, and in fact we almost compete to see who makes the best one. We clear the kitchen of the table and chairs so there is room to dance, because Mom and Dad always liked to dance. There will be lots of visiting tonight, but there will also be lots of dancing. Everyone gets in on the fun, from the littlest kids, to the oldest adults there.
The dancers have changed over the years. These parties started when my sisters and I were little kids. As the years have gone by, our spouses and kids have danced on that kitchen floor, and now it’s our kids and their spouses and their children who grace the kitchen floor. The music has changed over the years too, from country, to a little bit rock and roll, to disco, and back to country, and all the dance styles that go with each of those genres. We have seen slow romantic dances, and fast dances that were just because the dancers were feeling happy. If these walls could talk…the stories they would tell.
The dancers were festive and the music cheerful. We have had some memorable dances, such as the rubber knee, performed by my brother-in-law, Mike, and for me, it was sweet to see my daughter, Corrie and her husband, Kevin strutting their stuff. I didn’t even know 
they could dance so well. The many adult/child and adult/baby dances are always dances that put a smile on your face. But, the dance that will always hold the place in my heart for the most amazing, special, beautiful dance ever is the dance my parents had after both had been so ill that dancing seemed like it would never be possible for them again. It was a dance that showed their deep, lasting love for each other. It was a dance that we all gathered in the kitchen to see. The floor was theirs. We didn’t want to dance at that moment. We wanted to watch. It was a beautiful dance…not because of the steps taken, but because of the hearts that had been joined together for all those years…hearts that would belong to each other, forever.
When you are little, your best friends are usually your brothers and sisters. And back when Bob and his sisters were little, there was no such thing as a play date. Kids played with their siblings until they started school, and a lot of times after school, especially when you lived out in the country. A lot of times there were no kids that lived very close, so once again, your siblings were your friends, and that wasn’t always so bad.
There was always some way to get into mischief when there were three of you. There are also lots of ways to have fun. Who needs to have company over when you have siblings. In this case, three’s company, and fun would be had by all. It might be in the form of trying to put 2 kids into a tricycle built for 1 toddler…the type that had almost a baby walker type seat on it. I have to wonder if Debbie had trouble getting out of that tight spot after she got in…or maybe she had help getting in and out. I don’t know for sure. I just know that it 
was the same tricycle Marlyce had used as a toddler, so it wasn’t built for 2.
Whether it was playing at home or riding horses at Grandma’s house, this little trio lived life with gusto. They got into trouble on occasion, but not all the time. Their imaginations ran wild at times, and when they did…well, the trouble could be bad…for their parents, who had to fix whatever the kids messed up, and from what I’ve been told, this little trio messed things up pretty good a couple of times. Still, when you look at those cute little faces, how could their parents be mad?
Many people find themselves living, with no plans to move, in a climate that they are often unhappy with. This would apply to me when it comes to Wyoming winters, but, of course, not the summers. My granddaughter, however, is another story. I never would have expected her to be the one to like the winter, and especially the snow. I mean, she did as a little kid, but then most little kids do like the snow…then they wise up…again, my opinion, but Shai still likes the snow today. She wants it to snow a lot from October through March. Crazy kid, but she is my granddaughter, and I love her. Still, on this one issue, we will never agree.
We do agree that driving in snow isn’t such a lovely thing, and we do agree that watching it snow, as long as I don’t have to be out in it, is also a lovely thing. On the rest, well…sometimes I think Shai should have been my sister, Cheryl’s granddaughter, because Cheryl absolutely loves winter…every part of it, except maybe for the driving in it. I shouldn’t be so surprised about that, because Shai’s mom, my daughter, Amy maybe should have belonged to my sister-in-law, Jennifer, in that both hate beef, love vegetables and fish, and both could easily live on pasta. I don’t know how I managed to have such a 
mixed up daughter and granddaughter. Thankfully, the areas that we disagree on are few, and far between. We like many of the same or similar things, but on this one thing, well, I have to say that Shai is crazy concerning snow, and Amy is crazy concerning beef, and I will never change my mind on that one.
Of course, the snow scenes on Christmas cards, and other pictures is something I doubt if anyone could dislike. As long as you can be warm and cozy in front of a crackling fire with a mug of hot chocolate, those scenes are very nice and create a cozy atmosphere…at least until the reality of just how bitterly cold it is out there, sets in.
When my older sister, Cheryl got married, she and her husband moved to Keeseville, New York. There was a changing of the guard, so to speak, at our house. Since Cheryl was the oldest, she was always in charge when our parents weren’t at home, but when Cheryl married, the responsibility shifted to me. I’m sure that if you ask my younger sisters, they would tell you that I…maybe took the power a little too seriously…you know…bossy!! Well, maybe extremely bossy. I wasn’t a very patient person back then, so my little sisters quickly learned not to mess with me much. That kind of power can make a person push all their work on to those people who are in a position whereby they have to obey. That was where my little sisters were.
Oh, it wasn’t a constant thing, and my sisters and I had some very good times together, but as anyone who has ever been in charge of their younger siblings can tell you, being the one in charge does have its up side, and that upside is all about getting out of the work of cleaning the house. Ok, ok…I know it wasn’t probably the nicest thing to do, but I was a kid after all.
That was a long time ago, and we have all grown up. My sisters have long since forgiven me for my big power grab, and we are friends now, but that was a rough time for them…or maybe I wasn’t so different from any other teenager who was in charge of the younger kids while their parents were at work or out for the evening. I like to think that the later is closer to the truth, but I’m also sure my little sisters will still say that I was horrible. All I can say is that it couldn’t have been so bad…I mean, after all, I did let them live!!
