memories
Most of us go through life accepting the things that happen to us as being out of our control, but that is seldom the case. The things we focus on, think on, and work on, are the things that will most likely come to pass in our lives. Good or bad, these choices we make will shape who we are and who we will be. I heard a saying a while back, and it has stayed in my head ever since. I don’t know who said it, but it went like this, “It is not important what you are. It is important what you are becoming, for that you will be.” How very true that is. Many people have found themselves in an ugly place, or doing things they wish they weren’t, but have you ever noticed that it is the ones who made their way out of the pit they were in and turned their lives around that you remember?
We must decide what we want to be…what we want to stand for…what legacy we want to leave behind, and then start that journey right away…today. Take that first step, because it is the moment that transformation begins. We are all multi-talented people, though many of us don’t know it. We might be quite good at one thing, but have several other things that are in us that we didn’t even think we had a talent for, and one of those things might just be the thing we are called to do. We all have a purpose here. Life is not just random events.
Some of your talents might just shock you. Mine did. I knew that I had a talent for teaching, and though I didn’t do a lot with that one, I still have the ability to help my grandkids with their homework, like I did my girls. I have also discovered that I have a talent for nursing, which I was quite thankful for as I moved into the elder years of my parents and in-laws, and while I would not choose this profession, I could do it if needed. And of course, there is my ability to be an insurance agent. I have always said that insurance was my niche, and that is true. I understand it completely…it makes sense to me, but as I have been writing my blog posts, I realize that I have a talent for writing. Now that is a shock to me, because I remember my very early attempts in grade school, and I was convinced that I had no imagination.
My daughters have encouraged me to write, and for that I am grateful, because I kind of like this creative outlet. It has allowed me to, as my boss would say, move over into the other side of my brain, and I have found that side to be a very peaceful place. So to that degree, I guess I am on my way to being something different that I ever thought I would be. A creative person…a caregiver…a teacher…a writer…or whatever else God has for me. No, I’m not completely there yet, but after all, it isn’t important what I am, it is what I am becoming, for that is what I will be.
My niece, Kellie is going to be singing at our church on Easter Sunday, and as a special treat, we got to hear her song this morning. Our church has a program on Sunday mornings at 9:30 on KTWO television in Casper, Wyoming, and Kellie’s performance will be aired there on Easter morning. I hope no one minds if I plug that just a little, as I am very proud of Kellie. Her song was beautiful, and brought tears to my eyes.
But, more than the beauty of the song, is the miracle that Kellie’s life is. Kellie had a rough beginning. She was born late and so was not underweight, but as happens sometimes in late births, she had some breathing problems that caused her to have to be flown to Denver. I don’t know all the details of her condition, and that is not important anyway. Kellie spent the weekend in Denver and then came home, where she grew into a happy and very, very giggly girl, as anyone who knows her can attest.
Her story doesn’t really end there, however. Kellie was born on Thursday, March 15,1990, and came home from Denver that following Sunday. I bowled with some of the nurses here that cared for her before she was transferred to Denver. That Tuesday morning when I went into bowling, they asked me how the baby was doing. I told the Kellie was doing great and was at home. They said, “Home, home!! Not in the hospital here??” I told them yes, to which they replied, “That is amazing!!! We didn’t expect her to live, much less be home in just 2 days!!” They were so stunned and so pleased that they had tears in their eyes.
God had done, and continues to do great things in Kellie’s life. As I said, she grew into a giggly girl whose laugh has the ability to make everyone around her laugh, even if they have no idea what is so funny, and with Kellie, it may be nothing at all, because she just finds life to be a reason to celebrate, and she finds joy and happiness in every moment. I know that giggly girl will always live inside her, and that she will always be a blessing in that way, but beyond that, she is an amazing and accomplished singer. But for me watching her today, and looking back on her beginning…well, I found myself filled with a sense of wonder and pride at the woman she has become.
My mom’s mother was a short little lady of about 5′ (in her tall days), but she was as feisty as she could be, and definitely the boss of her nine children. She never had a drivers license, and never wanted to. She simply wanted to be wife to my grandpa and mama to her kids. I remember spending time at her house. There was always something to do. I suppose that was because with nine children there were a lot of grandchildren…30 to be exact. We had a wonderful time.
My story is not really about the grandchildren, however. As I said, Grandma was small, but mighty, and her kids knew who ruled the roost. If you chose to get out of line, it didn’t matter if you towered over her or not, you were in trouble!! Such was the case one day when my mom was 8 years old or so. My grandmother was in the middle of giving my Uncle Larry a spanking for something he did. My mother doesn’t even remember what he had done, and that isn’t surprising. Mom decided that Grandma was completely in the wrong for spanking Uncle Larry, and she proceeded to let her know it…in no uncertain terms. The spanking continued for a minute or so, with my mom just telling Grandma off. Grandma never said a word. She just finished my uncle’s punishment, and turned him loose. He headed out the door as fast as he could go, just in case she changed her mind. My mom started out the door after him with the intention of offering consolation, but Grandma had other plans. She reached out and grabbed my mom by the hair and turned her over her knee and gave her a good spanking. When she was done, she simply said, “There…how do you like that?” Well, I’m sure you can guess the answer to that question. My aunts and uncles were, from that day forward, on their own when it came to punishment, because my mom was no longer the defender of her siblings, when it came to their mom.
As the years go by and children grow, those spankings get fewer and farther in between, until you no longer need that form of discipline with your kids. They can look back on those days in their youth and laugh, since the sting on those spankings is only a memory. One day, some of the kids and Grandma were talking and laughing about those old memories. My Aunt Bonnie, who was standing beside my grandmother, and still laughing about those old days, said to Grandma, “Well, those days are gone forever, because you couldn’t take us now.” And in true Grandma Style, my grandmother didn’t say a word…she simply reached out and grabbed my Aunt Bonnie around the ankles and swept her off her feet and onto the floor. To a very shocked Aunt Bonnie, she said “There…how do you like that?”
Yesterday I wrote about the antics of my dad and my uncle, and after reading that story, my cousin, Tim and I spoke about some of the stories we knew about my aunts, one of whom is his grandmother, Laura. After hearing the things he told me, I feel like I know a lot more about my aunts, and I am very proud of both.
My aunts, uncle and my dad were young when our country was in the grip of World War II, and being patriotic people who wanted to help in any way they could, my aunts decided to join the mobilization effort by signing up for jobs in the shipyards in Superior, Wisconsin. Feelings were very raw at that time because people felt betrayed by the administration…betrayed and unprotected. But feelings aside, they stepped up and took on a man sized job. My aunts worked in those shipyards as welders on the ships. It was in the dead of winter, and the winters in Superior are bitterly cold. They feared for their health, and it was due to those frigid winter days, that they both decided that Wisconsin was not where they would want to spend their lives. Both would move to Washington state, and Aunt Laura would finally end up in Oregon. She would later say living out there was like living in the tropics by comparison. Eventually a sign was posted to commend the work of the many women who joined that movement, but they erred in calling them “Riveters” because they did not rivet the ships, they welded them, and that was a much harder job. Our Uncle Bill hated that error, and tried to get the sign changed, and after failing to get anyone to move on the correction, corrected it himself, because he has always paid close attention to detail and hates seeing an error go uncorrected, especially such an important historic event as the women of World War II who were heros in every sense of the word.
This is a part of my aunts lives that I had no idea had occured, and I truly thank my cousin Tim for sharing it. You see, this picture of my aunts is very foreign to me. My Aunt Laura was always an elegant lady, with a beautiful home, which I can still see in my mind to this day. She had so many beautiful and I’m sure precious things. My Aunt Ruth was a little more of a tomboyish person who liked the outdoors, but a welder…no…I could never have pictured it in either of them. They were two women, in a difficult time, who stepped up and did more than they knew they could. And I am very proud of both of them.
I did get a small glimpse of that toughness in my Aunt Laura one time, when she had just purchased a mobile home and while it was set up that Friday night long ago, the electricity would not be turned on until the next morning, and it was a bitterly cold winter night here. I insisted that she come and stay at my house that night, which she graciously accepted. Bob was working nights, so we had a little slumber party at my house…just us girls. We had such a wonderful time, and my Aunt Laura got to experience something that she really never would any other time in her life…little girls. You see she had sons, grandsons, and a great grandson…no girls. She had a great time with my daughters, and they thoroughly enjoyed playing with her. It was a treat for all of us, and a night I will always treasure.
When my Uncle Bill was out to visit us about a year before my dad passed away, I had the rare opportunity to hear some of the stories of their childhood first hand. Dad had two sisters, Laura, who was the oldest child, and Ruth who was the youngest child. Dad and Uncle Bill were the two in the middle, and being both boys, I’m sure added to the mischief they managed to get into. Of course, there were the typical stories about walking 10 miles to school, barefoot in 2 feet of snow, and it was up hill both ways…of course, but everyone knew those were just a tall tales.
And then there were the stories that I knew were true, and these were some of the most shocking ones. As is fairly common with boys, my dad and uncle were always into something, and braver that they probably should have been. They told us of one 4th of July morning when they decided to “celebrate” with some fireworks, and since they didn’t have any traditional fireworks…well they improvised…with dynamite!! They placed the dynamite on a gate post, and lit it. When it went off, the gate post was pushed several inches into the ground. It was quite obvious that their mother would notice this when she came home from town that day. Well, my first thought was, “How did you not blow yourselves up?” They told me that they had used dynamite before when they had to remove a tree stump, but that they never thought about what their mom would say when she got home…well, they fixed the gate post before that could happen. I can just about see the shocked looks on their faces when that gate post sunk. I don’t think they expected that, and the look on their faces as they told the story showed that they could still remember how they felt. I wish I could have seen that!!
Uncle Bill also told me about a time when he and my dad were out playing on the woodpile. Apparently they loved to climb all over that wood. I’m sure they played everything from war games to
hide and seek, but apparently there was one time in particular that my dad, who was a couple of years younger than my Uncle Bill, and three years old at the time, had played himself out. My Uncle Bill told me that my dad fell asleep, standing up against the wood in the pile. I can just see that now. I’ll bet is was a precious sight.
My aunts didn’t ever appear in these stories of antics, which doesn’t surprise me really. Boys are so different than girls. My guess is that the girls didn’t really want to play the same rough games the boys did, but it is what makes my dad and uncle who they were in those young years. And they never lost that little boy mischieveousness…ever!
Children come in so many different sizes, and grow at different rates. Age doesn’t always make a determine size. Such is the case with my daughters and their cousins, on both sides. We have grandchildren who are older than my girls who are much taller, because my girls are…well, short, as is their mother. My niece Kellie, who is tall, calls us the wee ones. And then she giggles, because that is what Kellie does…giggle…a lot!! You see, in this picture, my girls, Corrie and Amy, who are the oldest and second oldest grandchildren, are the second and forth kids in the picture, and Machelle who is first in the picture is in reality the third grandchild, Barry, who is third in the picture is the forth grandchild, and Susan who is the fifth in the picture is the only one in the right place.
Pictures are the documentation of the past. A view back to a time that can only be visited in our memory. Once children are grown, that time in their lives is over, and it goes so very fast. Old pictures become treasures, as we ooooo and awwww over them. Stair Step pictures bring memories of the differences in size that can be so pronounced as kids grow. They are a great way to document the changes in children as
they occur. Children vie for the position of tallest, or sometimes…shortest, because not everyone wants to be the tallest. I never did, nor did my girls, which is good I guess, considering the way things turned out.
And no one is safe from the Stair Step picture, no matter how old you are. People just like to look back from the early beginnings of childhood to adulthood. It has a tendency to put our lives in some kind of perspective. We are able to see if our expectations for the child, fit the adult they turned out to be.
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.
When I was a little girl, we had the most amazing German Shepherd dog ever. His name was King…for short. My parents actually named him LarKing Raesuekayal Vonlished. I can’t say for sure that I spelled that correctly, but if you sound it out, you will come pretty close to the correct pronunciation of his name. King was named after all for my sisters and me. Middle names were used for the three older girls, and the first part of the first name on my younger two sisters. Mom and Dad wanted his name to have special meaning. And it always has.
King was just about the greatest dog ever. When we were little he gave us girls “horsey” rides, and seemed to love doing it. He was very loving. King loved having the neighborhood kids come in to play, but we did have to tell them not to climb the fence without one of us girls there. Dad trained him not to bite obviously, but even more, you could put your arm in his mouth, and he would never even let his teeth touch your arm. But when it came to protecting his family, watch out. He wouldn’t have to bite…his bark was usually enough. He did bite one time, when a neighborhood boy was throwing rocks at him…boy was he in trouble with his mom when she found out. She wouldn’t even let the police issue any kind of ticket or warning, of course there was the required quarantine, but that was all.
The funniest thing King ever did though, was one time when my mom’s dad came over for a visit. Mom was on the phone when Grandpa knocked on the door. She motioned him to come in, and went on with her conversation. A few minutes later, she realized that he hadn’t come in. Thinking that he hadn’t heard, she motioned again. Then, she realized what the problem was. King was “guarding” the door. She said, “King, you let him in!!” She said it was the only time she had seen a dog smile. King sheepishly looked away, with a grin on his face, and my grandfather was able to come inside. I really miss that dog!!
I met Bob when I was still in high school, though not in the way you might expect. We didn’t meet in school or at a game. We met at Kmart. We didn’t just casually meet there, I was working there, as was his sister, Debbie. I worked in the Millenary department…handbags, belts, sunglasses, accessories, and wigs, and I had a display near the delicatessen where Debbie worked. In fact, my display of winter gloves and hats was how I met my future sister-in-law. Every evening when I worked, I had to go over an straighten that display, and believe me it needed it after a day or even an hour of people going through it. When people would look for glove and hats, they would dig clear to the bottom to see if there was a set they liked more, nearer to the bottom. The display usually needed to be straightened twice in a shift. When I went to straighten the display, my future sister-in-law, Debbie and I would talk if it wasn’t too busy.
One day, Bob came in to take his sister on her break, and I happened to be there straightening the display at the time. She introduced us, and then they went to take her break. Bob took to coming by for Debbie’s breaks more often after that, but I didn’t know that it was because he wanted to get to know me…not right away anyway. Bob was a little bit shy, and didn’t know exactly how to approach me, so he and his friend, Paul would come in, dig to the bottom of my glove display and flip the whole stack of gloves upward, messing them up. I, of course, had just straightened them, not two seconds earlier. They would only do that if I was there straightening them. It was his way of being playful…and it was cute, after all.
Finally, he got up the nerve to ask me out…and wouldn’t you know it…I couldn’t that night. Being shy, as I said, Bob thought that was my polite way of saying I didn’t want to go out with him. That, of course, couldn’t have been further from the truth. Nevertheless, the guys decided to see if I would go out with Paul. When Paul asked, I did turn him down, because I wanted to go out with Bob. They thought that I didn’t like either of them, and pretty much dropped the subject…but, not coming up to mess up my display. I couldn’t believe that 
Bob didn’t ask me again. Debbie and I talked about it, and she told me that he was shy. It was a big dilemma.
Finally, I had to solicit Debbie’s help. She kept talking to Bob to tell him that I did like him and I wanted to go out with him. It was no easy task. Bob had convinced himself that I didn’t. Eventually though, Debbie talked him into asking me out one more time. Of course, I said yes, and the rest is history…with a little bit of a twist. While I’m sure a lot of people have met their spouses at work, I still think ours is a unique situation. When people ask me how I met my husband, I still say that I met him at Kmart, but I playfully add that he was my Blue Light Special. I don’t think I could have found a better deal anywhere.
