Family
In my living room is an unusual chair. It is an office chair, but it does not sit at a desk. Someday, I suppose it will be taken away, but for now it serves to remind me of some happy memories. The chair was one that was given to me by my boss (don’t tell him I used that word, because he hates that word…so it will be our secret, ok). It was intended to go downstairs to my office, but it just never got there.
You see, my 4 little grandchildren found out that the chair turns around, and…well, it was my fault really…if they were fussy, we would put them in the Whee Chair, and turn it around like a merry-go-round. Within minutes the fussy grandbaby was squealing happily, “Whee, whee!!!!” Hence the Whee Chair. It was a great way to entertain them. There were many times we would have more than one of them in the chair, and even the occasional fight over who got to be in it. We finally had to make them take turns.
As time went on, the kids learned to maneuver the chair themselves. Rarely did a day go by, since I have had the great blessing of being able to see my grandchildren almost every day, that one or up to three little kids weren’t squeezed into that chair, begging to be spun around. And rarely was once or twice enough, so it was a relief when they were big enough to do it themselves too. Had it not been for that, we might have been worn out a lot.
Yes, it’s funny the things that kids can find amusing, given the chance to use their imaginations. So, the Whee Chair still sits in my living room, although it no longer provides rides for children. I suppose one day I will reassign it to another location in the house, but I think that day will make me a little sad, because it will be the closing of the childhood days chapter of my grandchildrens’ lives. Not that those days aren’t all but over now, since my youngest grandchild will be 13 in September, but rather it will mark the point when I accept that those days have come to a close.
I was thinking tonight about the next generation. Oh, I know, everyone thinks I’m going to complain about their dress, or attitude, or some other such thing, and while I would agree that those things can be annoying sometimes, that isn’t what I’m thinking about tonight. What came to my mind is the simple fact that at some point we will be passing the baton to this next generation.
Many people would cringe at the very thought, and when I think about some of the kids I see, I might have a tendency to join them in that. But we really can’t judge the kids by what they are today, because tomorrow, when responsibility hits them full force, they will change in a moment, just like we did. There isn’t one adult today, who can honestly say that their parents liked the way they dressed, the music they listened to, or the friends they had. They might have liked some things, but not all. And what parent hasn’t made mention of the dreaded next generation and scowled.
Well, just as we were that dreaded next generation and we changed into the establishment of today, so they will become the establishment of tomorrow, and they will look at their children and their friends as the next generation. And they will hope that as they changed into responsible adults, their kids will do the same.
As we did, most kids will grow into responsible adults. If we can instill in them the values we were raised with, and couple that with love and a respect for their feelings, most kids will blossom into adults that we can be very proud of. Kids are looking for approval…from someone. Now I don’t say to pretend that you love their clothes or music or attitude, but when they do something worthy of praise, don’t forget to praise them for it. If you don’t give positive reinforcement, they will act out to get your attention. We can’t be absent from their childhood and expect them to be great adults. We must love and encourage our kids, and most importantly keep their lives in prayer, because that is the most important thing we can do for them.
I was watching the news tonight about an American family that had just found out that their daughter was among the casualties of the tragic earthquake and tsunami a little over a week ago. Taylor Anderson, an accomplished English teacher who had been living in Japan and teaching English to young students there, used what precious time she had to escape, to make sure her students were safe. It was a brave and selfless act that cost her her life in the end. She was the first American known to have been killed in the disaster.
Losing their daughter was probably the single worst event in the lives of her family, but to add to the tragedy of that loss, is the fact that, as often happens in the aftermath of a disaster, information can get mixed up. Taylor’s family had been told that she had survived and was safe, only to find out later that they had been misinformed. A devastating turn of events. Almost impossible to believe.
I know how this family feels, and my heart goes out to them. My family also experienced a similar devastating situation of misinformation. My Great Aunt Gladys was one of the victims in the 1989 crash of United Airlines flight 232 in Sioux City, Iowa. Our family was also told that she had survived, and it was even on television…but it wasn’t to be. Somehow her purse had arrived at a hospital with another woman, so they thought it was her. We couldn’t believe it, and even continued
to watch the reports, hoping against hope that they had been wrong.
Losing a loved one in any kind of disaster is unbearably hard, but when you are told they made it, and then find out they didn’t…well, it’s like losing them twice. It is no one’s fault, of course, and those people who have told someone their loved one is safe, only to have to tell them they were mistaken, are torn to shreds too. It is devastating to all involved, and my heart goes out to each and every one of them.
Most people like either dogs or cats, and my parents were always dog lovers. We had cats one time when I was little, but after that, we had dogs during my entire childhood. Dad always thought cats were pretty worthless.
A short time after my dad passed away, an orange cat started hanging around my mom’s porch, literally howling. She figured that if she left him alone, he would go home, but after several days, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She and my sister Cheryl, let him in and fed him. He was obviously starving and abandoned. Once he had eaten, he decided that he had found a home, and he would not leave. He has made himself quite at comfortable, sleeping anywhere he wants, but his particular favorites are the laundry basket and the bathroom sink, which I find quite funny.
So, it would appear that Mom had a new pet…but, Quincy, as he has been dubbed, is not her pet…she is his!! At least that is what he seems to think. He is very protective of her. When she has fallen a couple of times, and is waiting for Bob and me to get there to help her, Quincy never leaves her side. He knows she doesn’t belong on the floor, so he doesn’t feel comfortable
until we get her back in her chair. He has to check on her periodically just to make sure everything is as it should be. He also likes to be near her when she is walking around, and since she has a walker with a seat on it…logically, his spot is that seat…of course, getting a ride is certainly a plus.
As I said before, my parents were really dog lovers, and Dad never thought cats were worth a lead nickel, but with this particular cat, I think my dad would feel differently, because Dad always made sure Mom was taken care of, and since Quincy feels the same way, I can’t help but think Dad would approve.
Bob was called Papa from the moment our first grandchildren could talk. We were so excited about being grandparents. A new phase of our lives had begun…a wonderful phase. New little lives were here. New little people to spend time with…to spoil…to maybe help to shape in some small way. We are so very blessed.
The memories of those early days of being grandparents are many, and varied, but sometimes the most special moments are the quiet times. The moments of watching in amazement while that tiny little one sleeps, and thinking how blessed you are to have received this little life. Watching the wonder on their face as they discover something new. Or just sitting together, quietly, as in the moments I captured between Papa and grandchild.
Bob very much enjoys sitting out on the front porch on a summer day listening to the birds, and just looking at the beautiful day. These two moments with our grandson and then our granddaughter, were so precious that they begged to be captured on film. As I look at these pictures now, I find myself wondering just what little tidbits of wisdom Papa might have been giving these precious babies, or did they just sit quietly in wonder at the beauty of the day. And does it really matter what they were saying or thinking. Probably not, because the really precious thing is the opportunity for Papa and grandbaby to just be together.
Another fun memory I have of going to Forsyth, Montana to visit my husband’s grandparents, is the old swimmin’ hole. I know, anyone who has ever had family that lived on a ranch in the country, might have memories of the swimmin’ hole too, or the pond, or the creek or river, but my memory of it is a little different. As I told you yesterday, my husband’s grandfather was a bit of a pack rat, and he simply hated to throw things away. Someone might find a use for it at some point. Or it simply might not be broken. No matter, he would just keep it around until he found a use for it. Such was the story behind the old swimmin’ hole.
There might have been a pond somewhere on their property, and I know there was a big watering trough for the cows, but who would ever want to cool off there, right. At that time, there were a number of little kids in the family, my girls being two of them, and summer in Montana can be really hot! Now, imagine two little girls, cranky because of the heat, and no real way to cool them off…because there was no air conditioning at Grandma’s house…they still had an outhouse, so air conditioning was not a high priority. Well, you get the picture.
So, Grandpa’s solution was an old bathtub in the front yard. He didn’t figure the adults really needed to cool off, but those little kids needed a wading pool, and since he had the bathtub, there was no reason to go spend good money on a cheap wading pool. He would just bring the hose around and fill up that bathtub, and presto…you had a wading pool. And they lived out in the country, and of course the kids are little anyway, so who needs a bathing suit. Undies and water. That’s all you need. The girls were set, and no longer cranky…problem solved.
When my girls were little, we made sure that they got to know their family in Forsyth, Montana by taking a trip up there every summer. Grandma and Grandpa owned a ranch up there, and we would stay at their house. Their ranch was unique to say the least. Grandpa was a bit of a pack rat, and there was always a variety of interesting things to be found on their place. My girls had a wonderful time exploring.
Going to visits Grandma and Grandpa was always a treat. Coffee with real cream, Strawberry Rhubarb jam on our toast, plenty of milk, fresh from the cows, fresh eggs from the chickens. It was wonderful to be out there, away from the hustle and bustle of home. We could just relax and play cards, which we did for hours on end, because that was what Grandpa most enjoyed doing, and he was ruthless at it, which is why I always wanted to be his partner.
But, the funniest memory I have of those early visits when my girl were young, is their first…and subsequent encounters with
the chickens and rooster. I will never forget it and can very clearly see it in my mind. They took one look at those chickens, and started running after them, trying to catch them. Ha Ha Ha Ha, it was hilarious. They ran round and round, and I’m told that normally, the rooster would have gone after them, but he just took it all in stride, and ran. The adults laughed until our sides ached, and tears poured down our faces.
Grandma and Grandpa have been gone for a long time now, but those memories will live in my heart forever. They were the sweetest grandparents a girl could ever marry into.
I suppose my idea of life in the fast lane might seem very different from most people’s idea of it. When most people envision that statement, they think of rushing out to parties, clubs, dances, and other such social events. For me, life in the fast lane means a life filled with family, work, and responsibility. It means meeting yourself coming and going, because there is too little time in the day. It means staying up late in order to get the things done that didn’t get done during the rest of the day. It means using a little bit more gas, because I make extra trips to the homes of family who need my assistance. It means keeping my cell phone on and with me at all times, so that if I get that call saying that someone has fallen, I can go to them…even at 3:00 in the morning.
Sometimes I get weary, I’ll admit that, but I can’t say I would change what my life is. There is something to be said for being needed. It is rewarding to know that because of what you do, the life of another is made easier and better. Whether it is helping with my grandchildren or my mom and my in-laws, I know that what I do gives comfort and peace of mind. I love my family, and I enjoy nothing more than spending time with them, in any capacity.
Yes, I lead a very busy life. I work, walk, care for others, blog, Facebook, Twitter, bowl, read, spend time with family…basically I live my life. Yes, it is life in the fast lane, but I guess that is the only way to get into my life, everything I want most to have in it, and that is ok by me.
My dad joined the Army Air Force in March of 1943. The Army Air Force was a branch of the service that was pretty much unique to its time, and no longer exists today. Dad was trained at Miami Beach, Florida, Gulfport, Mississippi, and Dyersburg, Tennessee. He was then stationed at the 8th Air Force Bomber Station at Great Ashfield, Suffolk, England as a member of the 385th Bomber Group for the next 8 ½ months. Dad was the top turret gunner on a B-17 Flying Fortress and also served as the flight engineer. At the time of his discharge, he had reached the rank of Staff Sergeant.
During his service, he took part in two major aerial engagements including the D-Day attack on Normandy and the England-Africa shuttle bombing of the Messerschmitt aircraft factories in Regensburg. He was decorated with the Distinguished Flying Cross, signifying extraordinary achievement, courage, coolness and skill while participating is numerous bombing attacks on military and industrial targets in Germany and installations of the enemy ahead of the advancing Allied Armies in Western Europe, Air Medal with four oak leaf clusters, signifying his shooting down 4 German fighter planes, and two gold stars, signifying his part in two aerial engagements.
Another notable experience that my dad had during his career was when the plane was coming back to base after a bombing run, and the landing gear would not come down. My dad then hung upside down in the open bomb bay doors area, while being held onto by several men, and hand cranked the gear down, getting it locked just moments before the landing.
My dad rarely spoke of the war, and never thought of himself as a hero, but I know better, as did, I’m sure, the men he saved by making sure they could land safely. I’m so proud of you Dad!! I love and miss you very much!!
