children
My Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George were married 65 years ago today. These days that is an amazing accomplishment. My Uncle George has been a part of our family longer than anyone except the original siblings. My Aunt Sandy, the youngest of Aunt Evelyn’s sisters and brothers was only 2 years old when they got married. As Aunt Sandy has told me before, her brothers-in-law and sister-in-law are more like her own brothers and sister. She can’t remember a time in her life without them.
When my mom and dad were dating, they often went out with Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George. One night after going to a movie, my dad was driving Aunt Evelyn 
and Uncle George home before taking my mom home, and as they were crossing the railroad tracks in Mills, a track with no lighting and no signal or gate, on a moonless night, a train without his headlight on approached. They would have all been killed if it were not for Uncle George yelling, “Train!!” and my dad quickly turning the car in the direction the train was heading. When I think of what could have been if my uncle hadn’t seen what he saw and reacted, and my dad hadn’t listened and reacted…well, I wouldn’t even be here today. What an amazing man my uncle is.
My Aunt Evelyn is the oldest of my grandparents 9 children. She used to decorate cakes in her younger years. She made my mother’s wedding cake, as well as mine and many more. She did 
beautiful work, and would inspire her sister, my Aunt Bonnie to follow in her footsteps. Aunt Evelyn also bowled for a number of years, and I had the great pleasure of bowling with her for a good number of those years. But, most importantly, she was Mom to her kids. She was a stay at home mom, as many moms were back then. Together, Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George raised 5 children, and now have many grandchildren and great grandchildren. Their lives have been a great blessing to their children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and all who know them. Happy 65th Anniversary Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George!! We all love you very much!!
My father-in-law has always been a hard working man. He worked hard all his life, beginning at 13 when he went to live at a ranch not far from his home, to work milking cows and hauling hay, for a mere 50 cents a day for milking and 1 dollar a day when hauling hay. He learned very early on, that it took hard work to get where you wanted to be in life. That work ethic has taken him a long way in his lifetime. He is a respected man to all who know him.
He worked hard to provide for his family and insure that my mother-in-law could be a stay at home mom. Together they raised six children. She kept house, as well as, knitting, crocheting, sewing and canning. He worked long hours to make enough money to support the family, and was often away from home for days at a time. It was a hard way to make a living, but he did it so his kids could have their mom at home. That was how things were back then. The men worked and the women kept the house.
These days my father-in-law still works very hard. At 83 years of age, he spends his days taking care of my mother-in-law, who has Alzheimer’s Disease. He cooks, cleans, and makes sure that she has the things she needs to stay home. Yes, he has help, but during 
the day, he is on duty alone most of the time. It is a hard day for him, and it wears him out much of the time, but whenever my mother-in-law has to be in the hospital, he is terribly lonely. Once again, he chooses hard work in order to support his loved ones. The unfortunate thing is that my mother-in-law has no idea just how blessed she is.
Today is my father-in-law’s 83rd birthday. For the past 7 years or more, he has been faithfully and lovingly caring for my mother-in-law, without complaint. His love for his family runs deep. He always puts their needs ahead of his own…no matter how tired he gets. Happy birthday Dad!! Have a wonderful day. We love you!!
I was talking to my niece, Chelsea after church the other day, and she mentioned that on the previous Sunday, when her daughter, Aurora simply would not settle down, she took her back to the nursery to play. That went ok, and the next week, they asked Chelsea to bring her back again. When she did, Aurora was so excited that she practically jumped out of her mother’s arms to get into the room. Chelsea said she just about cried.
I was reminded of Amy, when she went to pre-school. She was so ready…just like Aurora. Being the second child, Aurora has watched her brother get to go and play with the neighbor kids, and other assorted cousins, while she is stuck in her mother’s arms, a highchair, stroller, or other such item of…confinement. Like most children with older siblings, this matter frustrates Aurora, and there seems to be no solution…just a life of total unfairness, in which she wonders if she will ever be big!!
So, when she finally found a place where she could go and play with the other kids, and nobody says she can’t, she was delighted. Maybe there was hope for a good life after all!! Aurora was taking no chances. Chelsea brought her back to the nursery, and she knew that Mommy was going to leave and let her stay…just like the big kids get to do. Aurora was the most excited little girl in the world.
So, as soon as she got there, she was off…hoping that her Mommy wouldn’t make her leave just yet. Chelsea, on the other hand, got to stand there feeling 
just a little bit lonely. Her baby was growing up so quickly. I’m quite sure she was feeling just like I did that day so long ago now…like her baby was going to be all grown up and off on her own, before she hardly had time to blink, and she didn’t like that feeling one little bit.
Children grow up so fast, and once they are grown, we look back on those past years, and wish we could go back somehow, or stop time all together. Unfortunately, time simply will not be stopped. It passes without concern for our feelings. Today is our Independent Aurora’s first birthday. Happy birthday precious baby girl!! We love you so much!! Don’t grow up too quickly, ok!!
Have you ever noticed how little children interact with other kids? They don’t have to be kids who are younger than they are, and in fact most often it is kids who are older and bigger than they are. It seems that at one time or another, those little kids all have to squat down to look up at another child. This comes, of course, from watching their parents squat down to talk to them. They just think that is how you talk to people. My grand niece, Siara was no exception to that rule. Even though she was, and still is, smaller than most people her age, she thought the proper way to talk to people was to squat down and then look up at them. It was the funniest thing to watch. She thought she was being such a big girl. For her, I suppose that time of people squatting down to talk to her went on longer than most kids, because she was so little.
Of course, those days of childhood innocence and childlike ideas are quickly over, as children mature and find out why people do things like squatting down to talk to a child. Sometimes I wish those cute little moments could last forever, but then we would not get to meet the adult the child will become, so I guess it is for the best that they grow up. I just wish the years would not fly by so very fast. When I look at this picture, and think back to the time when Siara was just a little toddler, it makes me feel a little bit sad that her childhood is over now. It feels like it was just yesterday the she arrived into our lives, the teeny little daughter of my teeny little niece, Chantel. 
Today we are attending a going away party for Siara, who is leaving tomorrow for college in Great Falls, Montana. I’m sure the party will be filled with laughter and tears, since we are happy for her to be starting this next chapter in her life, but sorry for ourselves that this chapter is over and she will be leaving us for a while. Yes, she will be back a Christmas, and next summer, but that is simply not the same at all, and looking at the beautiful woman she has become, I find myself feeling very proud of her, and yet, still missing the little teeny girl who thought she needed to be squatting down to look up to talk to people.
Last Sunday was my mom’s family’s annual picnic. We have been having these picnics, as well as the annual Christmas party, every year for decades now. We do this as a way to re-connect with family that we don’t get to see very often. It was my grandparents’ wish that we not drift apart when they were gone, and we have worked to do this for them, as well as for all of us. These days it is so easy to lose touch with family, and more and more I find that I don’t want that to be our family’s future. So many people know their aunts, uncles, and cousins, but when it comes to their cousins children and their children, well they hardly know them. I have had the distinct pleasure of getting to know those young people in our family through Facebook friendships, and I want all of you to know that is has been a wonderful experience to get to know each of you. We have a wonderful family, with so many varied ideas and talents, and to miss out 
on all that…well, it would be a great loss.
I think this year’s attendance was a little better than last year’s, and I think that is due to Facebook. It was a great way to announce the plan to all the family, and get everyone talking about it excitedly. It was fun to see how much the little ones had grown and to see everyone just enjoying the day, which ended up being a little cooler than the heat wave we had been having.
My cousin, Michael had said that we needed to get together for something besides a funeral, since we had 2 within the last year. I agree, and I wish he had been able to be there. Sadly a couple of the regular attendees, Uncle Larry and Uncle Jack left us this year, and their presence was very much missed at this year’s picnic, 
but I was glad to see Aunt Jeanette and Aunt Bonnie there, and doing ok. As more and more of my aunts and uncles leave us, we will look back on these gatherings with the fondest of memories.
The annual picnic was a wonderful success, as it always is, and I always find myself sorry when it is over. This year, however, I think it will be better, because I am in closer touch with so many of my cousins and their families. I look forward to getting to know each of you better, and hearing about all your little family stories. And who knows, you might find yourself in one of my stories, because…when it comes to my stories, no one is exempt where a story exists.
Children love to help. They see the things their parents or grandparents are doing, and they want to do those things too. All too often, the parents or grandparents think the child is too little to help, so they tell them to go play. In my opinion, that is a big mistake. Children can learn to be helpers at very young ages, if given the opportunity, they can become very good at it…maybe even experts.
When my girls were little, they loved helping me with the household chores, and they got very good at making beds, vacuuming floors, washing dishes, washing clothes, and many other household chores. I know everyone teaches their kids to do chores, but when I have told people how young they were, they always seem surprised…like a child that young can’t possibly be trusted with some of the machines my girls used. No, they weren’t 3 years old or anything, when were washing clothes, but they were 7 and 8 years old. And they did it very well.
My nephew, Barry always wanted to help his grandpa. My father-in-law was Barry’s best friend, and if Grandpa was doing something, then that was what Barry wanted to be doing. When a child shows such an interest in something, it is easy to teach them to actually do it. By the time Barry was 5 or 6 years old, he was running a wood splitter with my father-in-law just like an expert. Barry was there to help split wood, when Bob and my brother-in-law, Ron couldn’t be there, either because of work or school, and he proved himself to be invaluable.
When my own grandchildren were 10, 10, 9, and 7 years old, they helped us with the daily care of my dad when he was very ill. They didn’t care what we asked. They were willing to learn, and more importantly, they were willing to do. Today they have gone on to do other things, since they are 16, 16, 15, and 13 years old, but they still know how to be caregivers, and they are still willing to help in whatever way we ask of them.
Children are never too young to learn to be helpers. Sure we have to try to make the jobs we give them be something they can do at their age, but sometimes they will surprise you by being able to do things that are way beyond their years, as was the case with Barry and the splitter when he was 5 or 6 years old, or my granddaughter, Shai when she single handedly took care of my parents all day when they and we could not, and she was only 10 years old, or my grandson Josh, who so completely understands the needs of my in-laws, and who quickly catches on to the new treatments we need his help with, and is so meticulous in the performance of the duties we give him. Children truly are never too young to learn, if we give them a chance.
My Great Aunt Gladys, passed away on July 19, 1989. She was a passenger on United Airlines Flight 232, which crashed at Sioux Gateway Airport in Sioux City, Iowa. It was a crash I’m sure many of you will remember. According to the pilot on that flight, Captain Al Haynes a veteran pilot with 30,000 hours of flying time, “When the #2 hydraulics on the DC-10 blew, or when the #2 engine blew, it took out the #2 accessory drive section, which took out the hydraulics for the #2 system. And some 70 pieces of shrapnel penetrated the horizontal stabilizer and severed the #1 line and the #3 line, and as a result we ended up with no hydraulics.”
It was a situation that had a 1 in 1 billion chance of happening, but on July 19, 1989, on United Airlines Fight 232 which had taken off from Stapleton International Airport in Denver, Colorado, bound for Chicago, Illinois with 296 souls on board, one of which was my Great Aunt Gladys, it did happen. Of the 285 passengers and 11 crew members, 184 people would survive the subsequent crash of United Airlines Flight 232…sadly, my Great Aunt Gladys was not one of them. The airline was having a special that day, in which children flying with a parent flew for half price. That special put an unusually large number of children on the flight…52 to be exact. A number of those kids were traveling alone. Four children were “lap” children…children without a seat of their own. Eleven children, including 1 “lap” child died in the disaster.
The passengers on board the flight knew they were in trouble for 45 minutes before the crash. I have often thought about what my Aunt Gladys was thinking about during those 45 minutes. Her family, of course…hoping she would be able to return home to see them again. Worry and fear must have entered in, and it makes me so sad to think that her last minutes were spent in such a manner. My mom said something to me after we found out that she had not survived, that makes me think that she was thinking of one other thing…the children. Mom said that Aunt Gladys would have wanted the children to survive, because they had not had a chance at life yet. I think that is true, because Aunt Gladys was always so sweet to the children. She never said one harsh word to me or my sisters…even when we wanted to play with her Avon products or touch her silk nylons, because they were so soft.
During the crash, the plane cartwheeled, and possessions where thrown all over the 
place. So came about the misinformation that made us believe that Aunt Gladys had survived. Her purse went to the hospital with another woman. Upon further investigation, they would find that it was not my aunt, but not before the news media had listed her as a survivor. It was not their fault, but nevertheless heartbreaking to our family. Today marks the 23rd anniversary of the crash of United Flight 232 in Sioux City, Iowa, and the subsequent loss of my dear Great Aunt Gladys. Sometimes, when I see a woman who resembles her, my heart still jumps, because it’s almost like she is still here. I suppose that happens because we could not view her body, and maybe that isn’t the worst thing. At least we can still imagine her among the living. We love and still miss you Aunt Gladys.
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.
My sister, Alena was a child who has always loved hair styling, and I have often wondered why she didn’t become a cosmetologist, but she didn’t. She still cuts our mom’s hair and that of some of the rest of the family, but that is not where her true calling lies. She was pretty funny as a child however, because her main practice head of hair was her own. If Alena was in the area…hide the scissors. I will never forget some of the comical hair styles she sported from time to time. Nor will I forget our mom’s difficult attempts at repairing the damage Alena had done. I remember the little pixie cut that came from a time when she cut one chunk very close to her head. And then there was the bangs that she suddenly had..and that were usually very short. The rest of us girls had long hair, but Alena’s hair depended on the cut of the day, and if Mom could keep the scissors out of her hands, which was next to impossible…because she would search them out.
When Alena wasn’t practicing her hair styling techniques, she was contemplating becoming a scientist…or more specifically, a chemist. Alena liked improving on the cleaning formulas we had in the house. I don’t really think that she ever perfected her own brand of cleaning formula by mixing Comet and shampoo, but our toilet, which was usually her mixing bowl, always seemed to be pretty clean. Of course, Mom could have wrung her neck a few times, and I have wondered how she mixed all that stuff, and never came up with a combination that would blow up the toilet. So much for really being a chemist, I guess. No, this wasn’t to be Alena’s true calling either.
While Alena never mentioned that school was anything that she particularly liked, it would be in a school setting that she would find her true calling. Alena began working in the school system when her children were still in school, and I’m sure that the hours were a factor in her decision, since she would have the same time off as her kids. She began working as a playground teacher, and was very well liked by all, including the children that she sometimes had to convince that they would be better off to control their behavior. It’s funny that often it is the strictest person in a child’s life that is the most respected. When her superiors saw how good she was at making kids behave…without killing any…they promoted her to positions like the “in school suspension” monitor, and eventually the 
classes for the children who were either troubled, or struggling. Of course, she had to take the necessary training for these positions, but in the end, she would find that she was well suited for this type of work, and believe it or not, these troubled children didn’t look at her as a warden, but as a friend, who understood them and wanted to help. Not a bad true calling, if you ask me.
Today is Alena’s birthday, and since she doesn’t have to work in the summer, I’m quite sure that she would be sleeping in, even if it weren’t a Saturday. And can you blame really her? Happy birthday Alena!! I hope you have a great day and a lovely summer!! We love you!!
A client was in my office yesterday with his little granddaughter. When he gave her a kiss, his whiskers rubbed on her cheek, causing her to make a face. When he told us why she had made the face, it took me back about four to five decades. Back to when I was a kid, and my dad used to play with my sisters and me by giving us whisker rubs. It was something Dad did when he was in a playful mood. He would come home from work, and we would gather around to greet him. Dad always loved to tease, and see if he could put a smile on our faces after his long day at work.
Dad’s 5 o’clock shadow would always scratch us when he would kiss us hello, and I suppose that was how it got started. Just like my clients little granddaughter, making a face at the scratchiness of her grandpa’s face, we probably made the same face. My guess would be that he thought our little face was so funny that he did it again to see that funny little face that looks a bit like a kid who just ate lemons. After a while, it became kind of like the “tickle torture” we had used on our sister, Caryl…a “weapon” used without warning to get a rise out of us.
I suppose people might wonder why such an act would be continued after the first time. Well, the answer would lie in the fact that after Dad would finish giving us the whisker rub, we would invariably say, “Do that again, Daddy!!” It was always a fun little goofy thing we had with Dad, and as we grew older, and had children of our own, they too, were introduced to the whisker rub. No one was exempt, nor did they want to be, because to be 
exempt, would have been to be left out of the fun.
My dad was a great dad and a great kidder. He brought fun and laughter to our home, and made each of his girls feel like princesses. We were so blessed. Family was the most important thing to him. He had so much love to give, and such a good heart. He was always doing fun little things to bring a smile to our faces and sunshine to the day. I miss those days…especially when I see a dad or grandpa playing with their little one or even accidentally doing something similar to the playful things my dad did…like the whisker rub!!!
