Caryn
Nineteen years ago today, our family grew from 4 to 5 with the addition of our son-in-law, Kevin. It’s always a strange feeling to give your daughter away in marriage. No matter how much you love the man who will be her husband, she is still your little girl. You don’t know for sure that this man will be good to your daughter or make her happy. And, as with any marriage, there are no guarantees that it will last. Those are the risks that are involved in any marriage, but when it is your little girl, it just feels different. For the first time in your daughter’s life, she belongs to another person.
Corrie married Kevin just 17 days after her 18th birthday, which made the feeling that we were giving our baby away, even stronger. How could she possibly know if she was in love? What could she possibly know about love, anyway? And what did we really know about this man who was taking our little girl away from us? These were the thoughts that fought their way into my brain as we prepared to give Corrie to Kevin in marriage. The truth was that Corrie and Kevin had dated for 3 years, since her 15th birthday, and they did know each other. They knew their love was real. It was her parents who couldn’t get past the fact that she was grown up now.
As I said, that was nineteen years ago, and the questions have been answered. They are happy. They are in love. They did know what love was and is. Through the years they have proven that over and over. Yes, they were young when they married, but sometimes that doesn’t matter. Sometimes, couples who marry young beat the odds, and they make it. That is what Corrie and Kevin did…they beat the odds.
As for our family…yes, their marriage changed our lives forever. It added a wonderful, loving, caring son-in-law, and 2 amazing grandsons. We grew in numbers, but also is strength. We are better for having added Kevin, Christopher and Joshua. We work together, in good times and bad. We help each other through the tough times and rejoice during the good times. Our family has never been the same, nor can I imagine it without Kevin and the boys in it. Yes, our lives changed dramatically nineteen years ago today…and I wouldn’t go back for anything. Happy 19th wedding anniversary Corrie and Kevin. We love you both (and the boys too, of course) very, very much!!
When children are born a number of years apart, the older children can end up having babies at almost the same time as their parents. Such was the case with my mother-in-law and her younger sisters. Her sister, Linda was born 15 years after she was, and Margee was born 18 years after she was. My mother-in-law married my father-in-law just 6 months later, and when their first child, Marlyce was born, Margee was just 1 1/2 years old. Marlyce was more like a little sister than a niece, and since she was so little, Margee didn’t know what a niece was anyway. All she saw was a new friend.
With each additional child, new playmates arrived, and before they knew it, there were 5 of them playimg together. By this time, of course, my mother-in-law’s sisters were old enough to know that the younger kids were nieces and nephew, and not friends. Still, the years spent playing with their nieces and nephew were years where friends were in abundance.
My mom’s family had much the same situation, except that it wasn’t the years between children that caused the closeness of the younger children to nieces and nephews, but rather the number of children in the family. My Aunt Sandy was just 3 years old when her sister, my Aunt Evelyn had her first child, Susie, and two more children would arrive by the time my Aunt Sandy was 5 years old. Aunt Sandy tells me that she never really felt like she was the youngest child, since there were so many nieces and nephews, and her sisters, my Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Dixie weren’t much older than Aunt Sandy, so they lived the story she did.
Having nieces and nephews that are very close in age to you can be a fun thing, because 
you always know you have friends to play with. I suppose it can be annoying too, because they can be just like a kid sister or brother…always under foot, so I’m sure there were times when the aunts just wished those kids would go home. They can also be great fun. They look up to you, which can be very different from what many kids experience. Either way, you will always have friends in abundance.
My Uncle Jack went home to be with the Lord yesterday evening. He was a quiet man, with a heart of gold, who made a big impact on those who knew him. There was always such a tenderness about him. He didn’t have it in him to be unkind.
Through the years, I think many of the kids in the family can attest to what a fun guy he was. He loved the kids, especially his grandchildren and his great grandchildren. It seemed like every year when the fair would roll around, we would run into them at the fair with their grandchildren. It was fun time they spent with their grandkids. The kids also spent much time at their grandparent’s house through the years. Even their friends spent time at their house. It was the place to be.
Uncle Jack like to putter around his shop and the land he and Aunt Bonnie owned East of Casper, often taking walks up and down the lane to stay fit, and to spend time in the fresh air, just enjoying the beauty of nature. Uncle Jack was never a man who felt very comfortable all dressed up. That just wasn’t his style, and that’s ok with me. He was perfect just the way he was. He didn’t have to dress up to be special, that came from the inside…from his heart.
Uncle Jack married Aunt Bonnie on Valentine’s Day, February 14, 1959, and never a day went by that he didn’t consider himself the luckiest man in the world to have the love of his life by his side. They were forever happy. He supported her in whatever she chose to do. When Aunt Bonnie took up cake decorating, later making the cakes for 
my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary, my 25th wedding anniversary, as well as both my girls’ wedding cakes, Uncle Jack became her main assistant. He was an expert at transporting and setting up those cakes, without one loss that I know of. He did it all in love. Love for the brothers-in-law, sisters-in-law, nieces, nephews, grand nieces, and grand nephews, and countless other people, especially relatives who benefited from his labors.
I hate watching as the generation my Uncle Jack was a part of slipping away from us. With the passing of each one, we lose a little bit more. I makes me so sad. I love you Uncle Jack. I will miss you so much.
In the Fall of 1957 or 1958, my family was living in Superior, Wisconsin, which is where my dad’s family lived. I was just a toddler at the time, and our family had been visiting Casper, Wyoming, where Mom’s family lived. My grandma and my Aunt Sandy were to accompany us back to Wisconsin for a visit, and then they would take the bus home again. The amount of room in the car limited the number of people who could come to two, and my Aunt Sandy felt very blessed to be chosen, as a trip to Canada was in the plans. It was to be the only time Aunt Sandy traveled outside the United States…so far, anyway.
Aunt Sandy tells me that one of the most wonderful memories she has of the trip is the fall colors in the trees. Wyoming gets pretty much one color change in the fall…green to yellow. The reds you see in the Midwest and East are pretty foreign in Wyoming. The drive was very exciting for a young girl of 12 or 13 years.
The Canadian part of the trip would also be filled with lovely fall colors, and would take them to Port Arthur to stay the night. They drove along the north shore of Lake Superior, which is a beautiful drive, as I can attest. It was always a favorite of my parents, and of course, most people who live around Lake Superior. The area is filled with trees, and magnificent views of the lake, so it is always a very special treat.
At some point in touring of the area, we stopped to look around, and Aunt Sandy leaned up against a fence post. Not knowing the problems that can occur when you put a wooden post in the ground for a long period of time in a climate that is humid, and ground water is plentiful, poor Aunt Sandy had no idea that leaning against such a post was a bad idea. The post immediately broke, of course, and Aunt Sandy found herself laying in the sand. Big sisters being with they are with their kid sisters, my mother began laughing hysterically about her little sister “throwing herself in the sand”. Thankfully Aunt Sandy wasn’t bothered by her sister’s teasing, or maybe it was just that she was used to teasing, being the youngest of 9 children. Nevertheless, Mom laughed, and Aunt Sandy picked herself up, 
and blew off the laughter good naturedly. I guess the trip was too much fun to worry about such trivial things.
All too soon, the trip came to an end. But there was still one adventure to come. Grandma and Aunt Sandy were going to be going home on the bus. Now, as we all know, bus trips are very long, with stops in just about every Podunk town on the map, but to a young girl of 12 or 13 years, it was still a very exciting trip, and one that she has never forgotten in all these years. I could tell, as I was talking to her about her memories of the trip, that they are still very much alive and well in her memory.
On Thursday nights, I spend the evening with my mom and my sister, Cheryl. We watch movies, have dinner, and just hang out. It is our girls night. Tonight we went to a restaurant called Hayden’s Place, which those of you who know Casper, might know as The Kopper Kettle, or The Pink Kitchen. As we were having our dinner, we were reminiscing about the many times we had been there for dinner through the years.
My earliest memory of The Pink Kitchen, was when Mom and Dad would take us there for dinner as kids. I always ordered the Hot Roast Beef Sandwich…always, even though I had always pre-determined to order something different. I can’t tell you why I always ordered it, or why I thought I might want something different, it was just my memory of every dinner we spent there. And I still love Hot Roast Beef Sandwiches to this day.
By the time Bob and I were dating, the name had changed to The Kopper Kettle, and we occasionally went there for dinner. One summer day we went there to eat, and there was something wrong with Bob’s car. He opened the hood, and was working on something…not sure what now, but as he laid his screw driver on the cross bar of the car, it slipped 
off, and stabbed the radiator. How it managed to do that, I’ll never know, but he couldn’t believe it. What are the odds…right? He just stood there looking the antifreeze flowing out of the radiator onto the ground for a minute in shock. Then he went in and made a phone call to get his dad to come and help him fix it.
Tonight’s dinner was the first time I had eaten there in many years, but the food was still just as good, and I finally ordered something different…a smothered Burrito with Green Chili…quite a change from my Hot Roast Beef Sandwich days. And to tell you the truth, it felt a little strange when I thought about it.
The B-17’s and B-25’s are back in town again this week, and of course, they always put me in mind of my dad. I can’t see one in the newspaper, or flying over without thinking of him. Dad was a Top Turret Gunner and Flight Engineer on a B-17 G Bomber during World War II. In his letters to his mom, he was so excited to be on this brand new plane that had never been used by any other crew. He was impressed with the ability of this plane, and felt very safe and secure when flying around in it. As a young man in the war, he was excited, and yet cautious, of course, because he was flying into combat zones, after all.
I can just imagine how he felt when he was flying in the B-17G Bomber, because he grew up working on things around the farm, and loving the train rides he got to take, and then working on planes at Douglas Aircraft Company, so actually flying around in something he knew so much about, had to be exciting. And then to have it be brand new…well, not many people had that opportunity in those days. My guess is that it was a good thing that they 
were already in the air, because otherwise he would have been floating around in the clouds without his crew. The feeling behind his letters gave a little view of just how excited he really was.
When the B-17G Bombers and the B-25’s came into town in August of 2007, Dad and I went out to go through them. Dad wasn’t feeling very well by that time, as he passed away in December of that same year, and somehow in my excitement in taking him out to see his beloved planes, I missed that little fact…at lease until I looked at some of the pictures I took, which showed a tired version of my dad that shocked me some. Nevertheless, we went, and Dad really did have a wonderful time. We took our time, and he told me so much about the time he spent in those planes. You could see just how he felt about them, because it was written on his face, and it was very obvious in his voice. He still loved those planes. They were a part of him, and he was a part of them. You can’t separate such a life changing event from the person who lived it. It changes them, and shapes them into the person they become.
My dad was a deeply caring, loving person, who always put the feelings and needs of others ahead of his own needs. He worried about his mom worrying about him, so he tried to reassure her at every turn. He was a man who loved God and brought his children up in the Lord, and a man who deeply loved his wife, our mother. He was a man who showed his love to those he loved, and taught them to love others and especially one another. He hated anger and fights, and taught us to forgive. Dads just don’t come better. The B-17G Bombers and the B-25’s will head out of town soon, and while I haven’t gone out to see them since my dad went home, the memories will last a lifetime.
I was at the annual Fair Parade yesterday, and watching the crowd along with the parade. We were sitting in a group of my niece Jessi’s co-workers, who were kind enough to save us seats along with the rest of our group. They were all lovely people, and watching their children and grandchildren enjoy the parade and collecting candy was a lot of fun. As I was watching, one of the moms wanted to get a picture of her daughter, and as the camera came up, the little girl smiled and held up her treasurers, as if on demand. Once the picture was taken, the smile disappeared. The little girl was not angry, she just went back to her own thoughts, and the need for the smile on demand was obviously over.
Of course, we all smile when things are funny, or make us happy, but from the time we are little babies, we are being taught the smile on demand, for pictures, meeting people, or just to show that we are one big happy family. I don’t mean fake smiles, just parents wanting those great moments with their kids to be great. And kids love those moments too. Once the picture is taken, they want to see how good it turned out, and they love it when you show the picture around, or put it on Facebook.
When I think about the times when I have begged my daughters or grandchildren to smile, as babies or otherwise, for pictures or whatever, it almost makes me cringe. Mostly because as a young mother, I wanted everything about my babies to be perfect, and 
when they were fussy at picture time, especially when a photographer was involved, it was always a nightmare. Then when they got a little older, you could pretty much get a smile on demand, as with the little girl at the parade, and it seemed that all was right in my world again.
I would still take the forced smile on demand look over the tight lipped lack of smile pictures that seemed to by the normal when pictures first started being taken. It seems like all the old time pictures had tight lipped faces, which tells me that the people weren’t very happy. That was probably not the case, but rather just the way it was done back then.
Every year on July 10th, I take a few moments to reflect of the wonderful gift that God has given me…my husband, Bob. When I wake up on July 10th, it just hits me. Almost 2 years before I was born, the man God planned for me…to be my husband…was born. Bob is so perfect for me. We are good together…a good team. Our personalities compliment each other and we share like interests. What could be more perfect.
I was talking to Bob’s dad today, and he mentioned his memories about the day of Bob’s birth. It is quite a story. The family was spending the day in Billings when my mother-in-law went into labor with Bob. Since this was her third child, things can go very fast. My mother-in-law was determined to have her own doctor deliver Bob…her doctor was in Miles City, which is 145 miles from Billings. My father-in-law said that he sure didn’t want to leave Billings, but she was so determined, so he gave in. I don’t know how much time they had to spare, but I do know that there was definite concern that Bob might arrive somewhere on the highway between Billings and Miles City. Bob waited, and his arrival was in Miles City…after which, my father-in-law breathed a huge sigh of relief.
As my father-in-law spoke about that hurried trip, I could picture the whole scene in my mind. My mother-in-law has always been very strong willed, and my father-in-law has always been pretty soft hearted where she is concerned. I can just imagine how she felt too. At a time like that you want your own doctor, not a stranger, in a strange hospital, is 
a city you don’t live in…especially since hospital stays for births weren’t 1 day or less then. She knew it would be a hardship on the whole family if they had to try to go back and forth.
In the end, it all worked out, and Bob waited until they reached Miles City to be born. I believe he would have been fine either way, and I suppose being born on the highway would have given them all a story to tell, but it would have been scary too, and I’m glad they didn’t have to go through that. Happy birthday my sweet husband!! I love you very much, and thank God for you each and every day!!
So often we determine the value of a person by their beauty, wisdom, athletic prowess, intelligence, college degree, or bank account, but so often these things have nothing to do with the real value of a person. It who the person is inside that we should be looking at. That is the person of value.
My sister-in-law was mentally disabled, but while she wasn’t an athlete, a lawyer, doctor, or nurse, she was one of the most valuable people I have ever known. She didn’t leave some great mark on history, or set any world records, but she left her special mark on my heart, and on the hearts of the rest of her family. Marlyce was a child in many ways, and yet not in ways of playing with toys. She loved to bake and knit. And as a Special Olympian, she learned to bowl and totally loved it. Another thing that she totally loved, was being an aunt. Marlyce loved babies.
I could always tell when Marlyce had been baking chocolate chip cookies before we arrived, because even before the smell hit me, I could tell by the smile on her face. She 
knew chocolate chip cookins are my favorite, and she loved pleasing me by having them there for me. As I said, she had a way of getting into your heart and staying there. In fact, once she got to know you, you were like family. She didn’t have enemies, or strangers…just friends she hadn’t met yet.
Marlyce left us in 1989. She was only 39 years old at the time. Though she has been gone now for 23 year, I can still see her smiling face and her her infectious laugh. She comes to my mind whenever I smell or eat chocolate chip cookies. I still miss her very much and every day. Happy birthday sweet Marlyce. We love you very much.
Friday was our last full day in the Black Hills, and while the hike for the day was the longest we did this trip, at 7 miles, we felt the best of all the hikes. I’m sure there are a couple of reasons for that. First, our muscles finally got used to being worked like they used to. Second and possibly the most important, it was cloudy and cool. While I prefer warm weather, most of the time, when hiking, cool weather is much better. The clouds kept the sun off, and while it was cool, it did not rain. Don’t get me wrong, I was tired when we were done, and truth be told…before we were done, but we made it. I have found something out about myself during this time…it isn’t just about finishing a hike…it’s about that something inside me that…that sense of accomplishment. I made it, even though it hurt, and made me tired, and many people would think I was crazy for walking 7 miles just to say I did.
The hike of Friday moved us to the 51.9 mark one way on the Mickelson Trail, which for us is 103.8 since we do each section twice. That is something I can feel good about. My hope for next years is that we will continue to stay in the necessary shape for the tougher hikes. We lost Harney Peak for this year, because we just weren’t in shape for it. That saddens me because Harney Peak is my favorite hike, but it also makes me more determined to be able to take that hike next year. Still, every hike is an accomplishment, 
and I am happy that we got to go.
The afternoon brought another of our favorite things to do in the Black Hills…riding the 1880 Train. Now I suppose many people would think that is kind of a little kid thing to do, but since I get sick on merry-go-rounds, and the carnival rides have the same effect, I’ll stick to the 1880 Train, thank you. It always allows me to imagine what it would be like to travel in the Old West…or even when my Dad was a kid riding the trains his dad worked on. I don’t think I’ll every outgrow the train rides. And riding the train in the beauty of the Black Hills is the perfect end to a lovely vacation.
