mom
In a world that gets busier by the moment, it is hard to keep up with your close friends, much less your aunts, uncles, and cousins, who you don’t hang out with on a regular basis. So, every year my mom’s family has a family picnic in the summer. That and the annual family Christmas party provide a chance to reconnect with an ever growing family. Since her family is quite large and most of us still live in the Casper, Wyoming area, the turn out is usually pretty large. There were a lot of people who were not there this year, but it could easily pass for a small company picnic without stretching the imagination too far.
My mom and her siblings are getting older now, and some of them have trouble getting around. They don’t get together as often as they would like, because it is harder for them. So, the annual family picnic is a nice way for them to spend some time together, and for their kids, grandkids, and great grandkids to enjoy the time as well. They sit around and talk about the old days…about those who have gone home before us and about their memories of them. And get to know the new babies who have joined our family.
This year, thanks to Facebook, where I have connected with a number of my cousins grown and teenaged kids, I knew more of the kids better than ever before. They are a great bunch of kids, and I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know them. It is a rare thing, I think, to know the children and grandchildren of your cousins pretty well, especially in a family that numbers over 300, but I can say that I do. And I feel very blessed to know them.
I have been to many of these family picnics. And many are spent asking who this or that new person is, but this time I knew…I knew them, and their kids. I suppose that many people would think this an odd statement, because we all live in the same town, but when you really think about it, do you know your cousins kids and grandkids well? If you are like most families, probably not.
I spent last evening at my mom’s going through some of my dad’s things. We looked at his old report cards, and autograph book from his school days, a hat I had seen him wear in a picture when he was about 2, a New Testament Bible given to him in the service, his Army Air Force uniforms, and a some miscellaneous other things. It has been 3 1/2 years since my dad went home to be with the Lord. This was hard in many ways, but it was time to do it.
One of the most precious things we came across, was the letters my dad wrote home to his mom during World War II. It looks like she must have kept every one of them, and they are neatly tied together in a bundle, so they would be safe through the years. What a treasure!! Dad was always the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. He talked to his mom about the money he sent home to the family every paycheck, and the fact that since he didn’t need much money, he was going to be buying a war bond each paycheck too, and would be sending that home to go toward a savings for his future. He said that he figured he could have a nice nest egg by the time he came home by doing that. Then he told his mom that if she found that she needed money, she was suppose to use those bonds, “even if she used them all, because he expected that there would be plenty of ways to make money after the war, if a fellow was willing to work” so he would be just fine. It was so important to him that his mom and family at home were ok. That is how my dad always was. He always put others first, especially his family, even if it meant working extra hours or a second job.
Dad tried to reassure his mom that he would come home safely. He spoke of the brand new plane, a brand new B-17 Bomber, that had been assigned to him and his crew. You could hear the excitement in the words he had written, as if he has spoken them to you himself. The plane flew “so smoothly” and “you can see why they call it the flying fortress” were the words he used to describe the new plane. He loved the beautiful new plane, but at the same time, he was well aware of what he was going to be flying into. He had hoped for a furlough before he was sent overseas, but it was not to be, and he didn’t know where he was to be stationed yet, but he didn’t want his mom to worry about it. He was flying off into an uncertain future, and not sure of his return, and yet his concern was for his mom and her feelings. That was just how he was. He assured her in a determined 
tone, that he would “return home in the same condition as he left” and would be protected in the plane that was built to be the “dread of the airways” during the war and because God would watch over him to bring him home; and so He did.
My dad would spend the rest of the war stationed in Great Ashfield, Suffolk, England, and would serve many successful missions in the plane that he was so pleased with. He would be decorated for his success in shooting down enemy planes and for successful air cover, including covering the storming of the beaches of Normandy on D-Day. He had many adventures during that time, but from his letters, it was clear that his heart was always yearning for home and his family.
I had to take my father-in-law to the doctor today for a followup visit after a hand injury. With Alzheimer’s Disease, we cannot leave my mother-in-law home alone, so when we have an appointment where I can’t easily take both of them in, we have someone come in to stay with her. Since her sister, Margee retired, she has been able to come over and sit with her, and often she brings he granddaughter, Stasi along. Stasi enjoys coming for a visit, which is such a blessing.
Teenagers don’t often want to go visit the elderly, much less help out, but Stasi loves coming over to visit my in-laws, and even when I get back with my father-in-law, she is often not really ready to leave. She is always willing to help my father-in-law out, by doing whatever is needed. She has pulled weeds for him, a well as many odd jobs around their house. And this last week, when my niece Machelle was painting window frames, Stasi was right there to help her. Stasi is very simply a very sweet girl, and one who likes to be a blessing.
Stasi, her brother, and her Dad live with her grandmother, Margee, my mother-in-law’s sister. Stasi’s mom passed away in 1998. Stasi helps her grandmother, just like she does my in-laws. She shows a kindness toward others that would make her mother very proud of her. It is hard to lose a parent at any age, but when it is at such a young age, very often life goes on without really missing that parent, but Stasi has never forgotten. Perhaps it is because of grandparents and her dad to keep her in remembrance of what a special woman her mother was. Whatever it is, Stasi has never forgotten and strives to live a life that would make her mom proud of her.
As I said, Stasi often helps out her grandmother, who is on oxygen and has a hard time getting around. It is a monumental task for a young girl to take on, but as I am finding with Stasi, it is one that she does well with. And yet, she still takes pleasure is coming over to my in-law’s house, her great aunt and uncle, and help out with whatever they need. She is a wonderful young lady, as anyone who knows her will attest.
It takes a village to take care of the elderly at home, and the longer I am in this situation, the more I have learned to notice and appreciate those who happily and willingly give of their time, resources, and mostly themselves to make the later part of someone’s life be a little bit better. It is a gift that can never be repaid. How do you thank someone for their kindness and sacrifice in the service of others? You can’t. It is impossible. All you can do is hope that in some small way you have made them aware that you see their kindness and sacrifice…that it has not gone unnoticed…that while you can never repay, you most certainly do appreciate all they do.
Five years ago, my mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor. My dad had become very ill a few months earlier, and we needed my mom on the caregiving team we had going with him, so when we knew something was wrong with her, we were overwhelmed at the thought of coping with two seriously ill parents, and having one less person on the care team to do it with. Mom’s brain tumor had affected her ability to stay awake. She slept all the time. We thought she was depressed, and that surprised us because my dad was getting so much better. It also affected her ability to speak the correct words. She could speak, but it didn’t always make sense. That was when we knew she was not depressed.
We needed a new plan. My granddaughter Shai, who was a very mature 10 years old at the time was called into service, and she stepped up and took over the daytime care of my parents, her great grandparents. By this time, my dad was awake most of the day, but movement was still difficult and he didn’t know what pills he needed or what other care was needed, so Shai did it all. I worked just 4 blocks away, and my boss was willing to let me do what I needed to do…a great blessing to me and my family. I came over at lunch and helped out, and right after work too. My older sister lived with them, and so was home in the evenings. My other sisters helped out several times a week, as did several of the grandchildren and great grandchildren. We had home health care that came in to help too, but a lot of it was on Shai. Our family will always be grateful to her for all she did that summer.
Mom’s tumor was a Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma. The Oncologist we were blessed with, told us that this was the best case scenario. He said that if it was a Lymphoma, while still cancer, they often said that it was “only” a Lymphoma. It was reason for him and us to praise God, which we both did, since he was a believer too. We felt very blessed that he was the doctor we got, because, he never lost hope, and neither did we.
Mom began her treatments in July of 2006, and by January of 2007, the tumor was completely gone. Her speech returned to normal and she was able to function again. He continued treatment for a time just to be sure, and then came the many followup visits, all of which showed no regrowth of the Lymphoma. My mom was a survivor. She has been cancer free now for 4 1/2 years, and we thank God daily for that blessing. While my dad has gone home to be with the Lord, and she misses him terribly, she knows that she has been given a great gift…life.
Sometimes it just amazes me that a child can look so much like one parent, and yet at the same time can look so much like the other parent. Not in every way of course, but while they may look a lot like one parent, they can take on a whole different look when they smile or maybe frown.
Such is the case with my grandson, Caalab. Now Caalab is definitely his daddy’s boy. He looks and acts so much like Travis that it is like looking at a picture of Travis, and I’m sure that when they look at each other, it is like looking in a mirror. And their personalities…well, anyone who knows them can tell you that Caalab definitely got his personality from Travis. Wow…it’s like they rehearsed it or something.
But, sometimes when I look at a picture of Caalab, he reminds me so much of his mom that it astounds me. He smiles like Amy smiles, and when they are both deep in thought, they look so much alike. I have pictures of them as little babies, that could almost pass for the same child, and yet I have seen pictures of Travis as a young boy that are totally Caalab.
It isn’t unusual for a child to look totally like one parent or the other, or be so much a mix of the two that the child doesn’t really look like either of them, but to look so much like his dad, and yet sometimes look so much like his mom, seems unusual to me. Of course, I must say that with Caalab, it is pretty much in a look here and there, and certain situations that he is like his mom, because in most ways, 
I have never seen a boy more like his dad!! It’s almost uncanny.
I guess children are their own people, built from the DNA of their parents, and taking from both sides, but sometimes there is enough alike in them to take you by surprise. And when the similarities come so early on in life, you just can’t believe that it is the child copying the parent. Caalab has always been a jokster, as has Travis, but when Caalab started telling whole jokes at 4 or 5, and never missing the punch line…I had to remind myself that he couldn’t be reading them. It was just Caalab being just like his dad. That is one place where he is definitely all Travis.
When my parents were dating, they sometimes double dated with my mom’s sister, Evelyn, and her husband, George. They would go to formal affairs, such as the military ball, but more often they went to movies. Family was important to all of them, and sometimes the best double date is your family.
One night, Mom, Dad, Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George went to the movies. The had a great time and were enjoying their visit on the way home. My dad had driven that night, and so he and my mom were taking Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George to their Mills home, before he would take my mom home.
It was a beautiful moonless night. They drive past The Wagon Wheel skating rink, and around the corner to the railroad track. At that time, there was no signal light or gate. As they started to cross the track, something caught Uncle George’s eye. Thankfully for all of them, he knew what it was. He yelled, “Train!” My Dad instinctively turned the wheel in the same direction as the train was going, and the car was dragged along beside the train until the train was able to stop.
My dad was normally a very calm man, but this was no normal situation. Dad got out of the car and threw down the popcorn he had been holding in his lap. He went up to the engineer, and started yelling at him. You see, the engineer didn’t have the headlight turned on in the engine, and remember that it was a moonless night with limited lighting in the area.
The engineer insisted that it wasn’t his fault. The police were called, and a representative from the railroad showed up. They argued the matter back and forth, but even with the 4 people in my dad’s car insisting that the engine had no headlight on, the railroad wouldn’t step up and do the right thing. The accident was deemed my dad’s fault.
So, after a very frustrating investigation, the couples were cleared to go. They got back into the car, which was thankfully, ok to drive, and my dad started looking around. He searched for several minutes, and them my mom asked, “What are you looking for?” To which my dad answered, “My popcorn!!” They all began to laugh then and told him that he had thrown it on the ground when he got out of the car, because he was so mad at the engineer. You can imagine Dad’s surprise. He simply didn’t remember throwing the popcorn down, because of the shock of the whole situation. It would be the one thing they could laugh about when they thought back on the train wreck.
My Aunt Deloris…Aunt Dee as we all lovingly called her…was an amazing woman who left us far too soon, and I still miss her very much. I remember her beautiful smile. She was always a very happy person. I have been thinking a lot about her lately, and had the chance to visit with my mom about her. Mom had a several great stories to tell that I think you will enjoy too.
My mom describes her sister as very inventive. One time when they were little girls, Aunt Dee came up with an idea that involved Grandpa’s long trench coat. She and my mom went out into the street. Aunt Dee put her arm in one sleeve of the coat and my mom put her arm in the other sleeve. They put their other arm around each other, and ran down the street into the wind. My mom said, with a far away look in her eye, “It felt like we were flying.”
When Aunt Dee was in 5th grade, her class learned the Mexican Hat Dance. She was so excited about it and enjoyed it so much that she came home and taught it to all her sisters and brothers. Mom can still picture that dance in her head. And another time, Aunt Dee went down to the river and got a bunch of fish and put them in a wading pool at the house, because she decided that the other kids would really enjoy it. And they must have, since it was never forgotten.
But, probably one of the greatest things my Aunt Dee ever did was when she heard that a place in town was selling pianos for a really great price, $35.00, which was a lot of money back then. Aunt Dee worked really hard to come up with the money, and went down, picked out a beautiful piano and gave it to her family. They all enjoyed that piano through the years, and as one of many grandchildren, I can say that her gift was even more far reaching than just her siblings and parents. It was played by grandchildren and great grandchildren alike. Little did you know, Aunt Dee, what a loving impact you would have on several generations of this family. You are loved and missed by all of us.
My dad never was a man to wear a beard. In fact, he didn’t like how they looked. He always wore a moustache, and we always thought he looked very handsome. In fact, I think that is probably why I like moustaches today, but I don’t ever remember my dad wearing a beard.
He did wear one however…once. It was during the Minnesota State Centennial, and my family lived in Superior, Wisconsin, which is just across the bridge from Duluth, Minnesota. One of the event of that celebration was a beard competition, and my dad decided to join in the fun. I don’t know if there was an actual contest or not, but there were a lot of men who were competing. Dad reminds me of a thinner Sebastian Cabot, who played Mr French on the old television show, “A Family Affair.” I always liked Mr French, I guess in many ways, his protectiveness reminded me of my dad.
I think I would like to have seen that, because my parents were dressed up as pioneers. 
Mom wore a long skirt and Dad a suit. Dad carried a cane. They looked very distinguished. They didn’t really tell me much about the celebration, but I have checked into it, and there was a parade…of course, there is always a parade, isn’t there. They also had a Centennial Train, which was fashioned after the Freedom Train that had transported the Declaration of Independence and other important documents around America after World War II ended. And of course, there was a beauty pageant. But to me, the Centennial will always mean the time that my dad grew a beard and my parents dressed up like pioneers, in celebration of 100 years of statehood for Minnesota.
When I was a girl, the only kids who ate their lunch at school were the ones who rode the bus from the country, and the ones whose mothers worked. A working mother was more of a rarity in my grade school years. Moms back then made their children’s clothing, canned vegetables and fruits, made jams and jellies, went to PTA meetings, worked as room mothers, and helped with homework.
I remember the bell ringing at lunch, and running out the doors of the school and off to the house. Mom would have soup and sandwiches waiting for us. My favorites were Chicken Noodle soup and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, and Cream of Mushroom soup with toast. Yummy!! At that time, I was sometimes jealous of the kids that got to eat their lunch at school, but when I went to junior high and had to eat my lunch at school every day, I sometimes missed those days when I could run home and Mom would have our lunch waiting for us. Funny how you don’t really know what you have until it’s gone.
Bob’s family lived right across the street from the school during his early grade school years, so his experiences were similar to mine, and for him it was kind of cool on track day, because his mom could watch the meet right from her yard. My cousin, Greg, who was a friend of Bob’s back then, remembers her cheering them on from the yard. It was a memory of her that he mentioned to me just recently. Bob’s family would later move to the country and he would become one of the kids who got to eat lunch at school. I’m not sure which one of us got the better deal…I have to lean toward me.
Yes, things were different when I was a kid. Moms had the ability to be much more involved in their kids young years. It kind of makes me sad for the kids today whose mom’s have to work, but I guess that if it’s something you never had, it’s easier not to miss it. I don’t say that those were better times, but while we maybe had less “things” in our lives, we were so blessed in so many other ways.
Our definition of motherhood has changed through the years, but moms really haven’t. Even if they have to work, moms do their best to be a positive influence in their children’s lives. The love and nurture. They discipline and scold. They teach and they even learn from their kids. They wipe our tears and kiss our wounds. They wear so many hats. Sometimes I think that they have more skills that any other occupation, and yet they often receive the least amount of thanks. So today I want to take a moment to thank my mom and my mother-in-law for raise Bob and me up to be the people we turned out to be. We couldn’t have done it without you. We love you Mom!!
Today is my Dad’s birthday. He would have been 87 years old today, and I really wish he was here to celebrate the day. I miss him so very much. This day feels so empty now. He was such an amazing man. And he lived such a full life. I am so blessed to have had him for my dad. He was the best dad in the world.
My dad was born in Superior, Wisconsin, the third of four children of my grandparents Allen Luther Spencer and Anna Louise (Schumacher) Spencer. Dad was a happy-go-lucky kid with a great sense of humor. My Uncle Bill told me of some of the funny things his little brother did, like falling asleep standing up while they were playing on the wood pile. And the two of them pulling the many pranks they pulled together. I was told years ago of a time when he had been told several times, like most kids are, not to rock back in his chair, and when it fell, my grandmother said, “Zo, du bist a okaman!” Which is to say, “So, you are a big man!” Well, maybe not then Grandma, but to all who knew him…yes, he was!!
To me and my sisters, however he was Dad. He brought much laughter into our lives with his wit. Dad loved a good joke. I remember many a time that he would pull some prank on us and then laugh with total delight when his joke went off as planned. I remember his delighted laugh so well that I can still hear it very clearly. But, he was also, our hero. He held off the lions and bears…or at least kept them out of camp, by being so brave and putting another log on the fire so we were safe. He protected us from any unforeseen monster…especially moths…which our child’s minds could concoct. He just always had the answer, or the muscle to take care of whatever needed taking care of. He was our hero.
Like so many other things about my dad that feel like they happened only yesterday. Dad was truly the last of the true gentlemen. He carried himself with a dignity that you don’t see anymore. My mom was treated like a princess. That is just how Dad was. He loved her with all his heart, and it showed in all he did. He and my mom had a beautiful marriage, and Mom misses him terribly. He made all of “his girls” feel so special, and since he and my mom had five daughters…no sons…he got to have six of “his girls” and he treated us all like his little princesses. We were all so blessed.
Dad showed us and taught us the important things in life. He wasn’t a showy man, he was a solid, grounded man with unquestionable values and solid faith. The values he taught us will live inside us forever. He loved having his kids and grandkids around him, and what a blessing that was. He always had time for us. He helped with homework, played, and led us in the ways we should go. He and my mom made sure we were raised to know and have a personal relationship with God, and let us know in no uncertain terms, that he disapproved when we missed church. His values are still strong in his children today. And he was a capable man. He always knew how to find a solution to our problems
. We always knew we could go to him and he would know what to do. He always had a way to fix whatever seemed to have gone wrong.
He served his country willingly, and his military record is exemplary. He told us a few stories from the war, but he never thought himself a hero…in any capacity. On that matter, he was wrong. My dad was very much a hero…in every area of his life, but mostly to his family. He was a great man. My sisters, my mom, his grandchildren and great grandchildren, many friends and other family members, and I miss him terribly!! Happy birthday Daddy!! We all love you very much!!
