sisters
I don’t know about your family, but in mine and in Bob’s, the women seemed to wear curlers in pictures a lot. The funny thing about that is that the ones wearing curlers in pictures have short hair, which would dry very quickly. So it would seem that there would be little need for wearing curlers all day, and yet here they were in picture after picture. It’s almost as if the curlers are a way to keep their hair under control for a while, much like people with long hair might wear a bun. Curlers in your picture seems to be something rather unique to my mother’s and grandmother’s 
generations. I know that my sisters and I would not have been caught dead outside the house with curlers in our hair…at least when we were old enough to have a say.
What always struck me as funny is the fact that whenever Mom had curlers in her hair, and the event was special enough for pictures, it seemed like Mom’s intention was to look good for the event that was upcoming. So, it always made me wonder why she left them on for the event itself. Of course, they never left the curlers in for the really special events, like church, weddings, 
or funerals, it was just the casual, special events that seemed to allow for curlers in the picture. There again, I would never show up for those events in curlers either, and knowing my sisters as I do, I know they wouldn’t either. It’s kind of like going out without your make up…it just isn’t done.
Nevertheless, that was a different generation. I’d like to say it was a different time, but my mom still might wear curlers in a picture, and think nothing of it. I suppose Bob’s mom might too, if she didn’t have a perm now. To that I say, to each his own, but you will never catch me in a picture with curlers in my hair.
As our 38th wedding anniversary approaches, I am reminded of the flurry of activity that was going on about this time in the planning stages of the ceremony. My wedding gown, which was made by my grandmother was finished, and it was beautiful. The rice bags were ready, and the flowers had been ordered. My cake, made by my Aunt Evelyn was ready, except for the final touches as it was placed on the reception table. Everything was coming together perfectly. We had only a few more days to wait until our wedding day arrived. My mind was filled with excitement, and my heart was filled with happiness.
My three younger sisters, Caryl, Alena, and Allyn, were going to sing at our wedding, and they had been practicing, and a little praying, that their part would turn out perfectly. The song I had chosen was called, “O Perfect Love” and I couldn’t imagine a better song for the love Bob and I had, and still have. Their voices blending in harmony as they practiced their song, were beautiful. I was amazed at how well, these my little sisters, only 15, 13, and 11 years old, could sing. Sometimes, the age of the voice doesn’t really matter, it is the pure, crystal clear beauty of the voice that matters.
That is what my sisters had…pure, angelic voices. I was so pleased that they were going to be singing at our wedding, and the song they were going to sing was so beautiful. I can still hear every word…every note, as the girls sang that song for me and my husband. It was like they were singing a prayer over our marriage. It was not just a popular song of the times, it was a hymn. It was, and is the most beautiful wedding song I have ever heard, and it was sung for Bob and me by the three angelic voices of my little sisters. Thank you Caryl, Alena, and Allyn, for your beautiful contribution to our wedding day. I love you all.
O Perfect Love
O perfect Love, all human thought transcending,
lowly we kneel in prayer before thy throne,
that theirs may be the love which knows no ending,
whom thou forevermore dost join in one.
O perfect Life, be thou their full assurance,
of tender charity and steadfast faith,
of patient hope and quiet, brave endurance,
with childlike trust that fears nor pain nor death.
Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow;
grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife,
and to life’s day the glorious unknown morrow
that dawns upon eternal love and life.
When a couple has been married for many years, as my mom and dad were, before his passing, the years beyond their earthly time together reminds me of the recent version of the Titanic, where Rose had to go on after Jack’s death, to live the life he had encouraged her to live. The loss of a spouse can be such a devastating event, that sometimes people just close themselves off from life, and waste away. Of course, not every spouse who is left behind is physically able to go out and have the many adventures that Rose had, but many of those have children who step in and take them to places they could not go on their own.
Rose could have gone back to the man she was engaged to, who was abusive, and mean in every way, but she chose to take the opportunity that had presented itself, and make a new life for herself…a very brave thing to a single woman to do in that era, considering she also had to escape her mother’s selfish ways, by also not telling her that she had survived.
My mom’s mother, and my mom both lost their spouses after more than 50 years of marriage, and while neither of them would travel alone after that, both have taken many trips over the years since becoming widows. Before my grandmother passed away, 8 years after my grandfather, she took several trips, including one to Ireland with her sisters and brother, and one to Louisiana to visit her son. Looking at the pictures from those places reminded me of the adventures Rose had after Jack passed away. And I’m quite certain that my grandfather would have been most pleased with her travels, and excited that she got to make the journeys.
My mom has also had the opportunity to do some traveling since my dad’s passing. They always loved the Black Hills, and my sister, Cheryl takes her every year over the 4th of July week, when Bob and I, and several other family members go, and she gets to continue to enjoy the magesty of the Black Hills. This past week, Cheryl, Mom and I traveled through Montana, Idaho, and Eastern Washington to attend my uncle’s funeral, and Mom got to go from the lakes to the mountain tops. She didn’t hike, of course, and at times it was hard work to get her where we all wanted to go, but we persevered and it went very well.
It is so important that the surviving spouse takes that journey beyond loss, 
because their spouse would want them not only to survive, but flourish. They would want them to remember the past, but live in the here and now. In many ways, they are taking their spouse along with them…especially if the trip is to a place they both had wanted to go, but didn’t get to. Things change in this life, but life is for the living, and time marches on, so we must keep the love for those lost, in our hearts, and live the rest of our lives in the ways that bring us joy.
There is an old saying, “as snug as a bug in a rug.” Now I don’t know how long that saying has been around or if my father-in-law’s nickname came from that or not, but when he was a baby, they either switched that saying around, or made up their own, but he was “as cute as a bug.” That saying was used around him so long that somehow the nickname Bug eventually remained, and Bug he has been ever since. It’s funny sometimes, how these nicknames come about, and when you look back on them, you wonder why anyone would think that was cute, but on him it is nevertheless. And it has never changed. For all the years I have known and been in this family, his mom, sisters, and, brothers, called him Bug. When I asked why they called him that, they told me that he was as cute as a bug.
I can’t say that I have ever felt like bugs were cute, except maybe the Ladybug, but apparently either I was missing something, or they were cuter back then, or maybe it was just that boys thought they were cute, or great, or whatever. I suppose that for a boy, Bug would be a pretty good nickname…I mean, how many guys go by snake or something like that, and I have to tell you that I like Bug a whole lot better. Snake reminds me of somebody who might slit your throat in a gang fight, and I have to wonder how comfortable I would have been at 17 years of age, upon meeting my boyfriend’s dad and having him be introduced as Snake. Yikes, I don’t think so, and besides that, my father-in-law is not snake-like at all. He’s far too nice a guy for that. Of course, they didn’t introduce him as Bug either, but eventually the nickname came out.
Even though he has been Bug for as long as I have known him, my father-in-law would undoubtedly pass out if I ever called him that, and I can’t imagine doing it anyway. For one thing, since it was a nickname from his childhood, it seems better suited to childhood, and of course, for his family it was just as normal as calling my grandson Joshua, by his nickname, Josh, but if you didn’t start out using the nickname Bug by knowing him as a child, it might seem a little odd to start using it on him when he is your father-in-law, or at least that’s the way I see it. No, I’ll just have to leave that one for his brothers and sister, who will never get past calling him that anyway. You have to admit though, that he was as cute as a Bug!!
When I was a kid, we always enjoyed having my cousin, Denny and his wife, Sandy come over for visits. They were just fun people to be around, and while they were older than we were, they didn’t act as if my sisters and I were bothersome little kids who should just go play and leave the adults alone. That was something I always appreciated, and it made for a good relationship with them. As the years have gone by, and they moved to Oregon, we haven’t been in touch as much as as we used to be, but once again, Facebook has come to the rescue, and we are back in touch again. Being back in touch, has also brought back some memories for me, and I think my readers will find this one interesting. I wrote yesterday about the flinching game, so today, I will tell you about the hand slapping game.
One day, Denny and Sandy were at our house visiting, and Denny and I were playing the hand slapping game. You know the one, I held my hand over his hand, and he tried to quickly come over the top of my hand and slap it before I could move it out of the way. Needless to say, Denny was much better at that game than I was at that age, and my hands were often the ones slapped. It was all done in good clean fun, and never intended to hurt anyone, but sometimes things can happen, as we all know.
On this particular occasion, we were sitting there playing the game, and as usual, Denny was winning. It was his turn to try to slap my hands, and he was doing a real good job of it. I think he must have decided to try to give me a break, because when he swung his hand over to slap the top of mine, he lifted his hand really high so I would have a fighting chance. He knew that I would move my hand, so he started coming down really fast, and when I moved my hand, he couldn’t get his hand stopped in time. The problem was that my hand had been over his leg, and when he couldn’t stop in time, he slapped his own leg. He let out a little bit of a yelp, because I’m sure it hurt, but I really think it was more an expression of shock. While he knew I would move my hand, he just didn’t think of where his hand was going to land. In the end, we both laughed about it, because you have to admit, it was pretty funny.
When my older sister, Cheryl got married, she and her husband moved to Keeseville, New York. There was a changing of the guard, so to speak, at our house. Since Cheryl was the oldest, she was always in charge when our parents weren’t at home, but when Cheryl married, the responsibility shifted to me. I’m sure that if you ask my younger sisters, they would tell you that I…maybe took the power a little too seriously…you know…bossy!! Well, maybe extremely bossy. I wasn’t a very patient person back then, so my little sisters quickly learned not to mess with me much. That kind of power can make a person push all their work on to those people who are in a position whereby they have to obey. That was where my little sisters were.
Oh, it wasn’t a constant thing, and my sisters and I had some very good times together, but as anyone who has ever been in charge of their younger siblings can tell you, being the one in charge does have its up side, and that upside is all about getting out of the work of cleaning the house. Ok, ok…I know it wasn’t probably the nicest thing to do, but I was a kid after all.
That was a long time ago, and we have all grown up. My sisters have long since forgiven me for my big power grab, and we are friends now, but that was a rough time for them…or maybe I wasn’t so different from any other teenager who was in charge of the younger kids while their parents were at work or out for the evening. I like to think that the later is closer to the truth, but I’m also sure my little sisters will still say that I was horrible. All I can say is that it couldn’t have been so bad…I mean, after all, I did let them live!!
Being a girl from a family of all girls, the idea of paintball would never have entered my mind. I’m not saying that my sisters and I were real prissy, but we weren’t into pain and getting totally dirty either. We were typical girls, who liked dolls and other girl things, when we were little, and while we liked to go camping, we still didn’t want any of the wild creatures of the forest in our camp unless it was a deer or a bird. Then, when Bob and I had children, we had 2 girls too, so I really never had to have much dealings with the kind of stuff boys are into, other than Bob’s love of mechanics, which didn’t really affect me much, unless he needed help on something.
Then came the sons-in-law and the 3 grandsons…and oh boy, what a shock to my rather girly system!! All of the dirt, cars, rough housing, and most recently paintball fighting, are things that have taken some getting used to. I simply can’t imaging choosing to get hit with paintballs. I have seen the bruises the guys have after one of their “friendly” fights, and while I’m no wimp, I think I’ll have to pass when it comes to letting someone shoot paintballs at me and leave me full of bruises. I’m quite sure that fact will come as quite a 
disappointment to the guys, as I’m sure they would love to have a crack at that fight.
My grandsons are getting better at their shooting skills, but it will take some doing to beat their dad and uncle, I think, and Kevin usually gets the upper hand. Caalab doesn’t get to fight as much as Chris and Josh, since their dad is the one into paintball, but he has fun when he gets to go along. I’m sure my daughter, Corrie has all but given up on the idea of keeping their clothes clean and paint free. I don’t know how well this stuff washes out, but my guess is that it comes out pretty well, but if not, you just make sure to wear old clothes, right. Yep, dirt, paintballs, bruises, and fun…that’s paintball!!
My parents have always loved the mountains much more than the lakes. Lakes are beautiful too, but in the summertime, they are hot, unless you spend every minute in the water, and the sun beats down on you all day long. On the other hand, the mountains are cooler because of the altitude and the many trees, and there is a feeling of peaceful relaxation that you just can’t get at the lake. The love of the mountains is something I share with my parents. I could hike through the trees for hours and never get tired of it.
Early in their marriage, Mom and Dad went up to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and took the opportunity to ride the ski lift to the top of the ski area in the summertime. Bob and I have done that too, so I know how beautiful it is up there. The view of the Tetons, standing majestically in the distance is a view that many people have captured on film, simply because it is so breathtaking. You can see the beauty of the view, even in the black and white photos they had back then. Mom and Dad looked like they 
were having a wonderful time. If you have never taken a ride on a ski lift in the summertime, it is something I highly recommend, because you get a totally different picture of things without all the snow. And for me, no snow is a good thing.
Mom and Dad shared, with my sisters and me, the beauty that can be found in nature, and in my opinion, the mountains are one of the most beautiful places on earth. So many wonderful family outings have been spent right here on Casper Mountain. My parents felt like the mountains were so magestic, whether it was the towering peaks of the Tetons or the rolling hills of Casper Mountain or The Black Hills. Each one had a beauty all its own…a beauty that was worth seeking out. The mountains have a magesty all their own, and I will always love to go and drink in the peacful beauty that resides there
My Aunt Deloris was always a sweet and gentle spirit. She was one of the few people out there who, to me, seemed truly humble. She never tried to promote herself, and in that act, she stood out as someone very special to me. She didn’t have to show you how amazing she was, because you could see for yourself who she was. Sadly, Aunt Deloris passed away in 1996 of Brain Cancer. It was a sad time for our family. She was such a wonderful person with such a kind heart, and we wanted her to be with us for a much longer time.
I remember so many times when Aunt Dee, as we all called her, would come over to the house for visits. We all loved sitting around talking with her. She was always the kind of person who would help you with anything you ever needed help with. She especially loved buying things for the family, like the piano she bought for the family, that was a blessing to the family for generations, unless you happened to be Greg, who got his fingers slammed in it more than once. She also liked to dance, and taught her sisters and brothers how to do the Mexican Hat Dance when she was in 5th grade. She had an amazing imagination, and created many fun adventures for her sisters and brothers as well.
I will always remember Aunt Dee’s sense of humor, and her wonderful laugh. She had a way of changing a quiet moment into a laughing moment…especially when there was an argument going on. Like the time her sisters and brothers were fighting and Grandma got tired of it and said she didn’t want to hear another peep out of anyone. Of course, Aunt Dee couldn’t resist. She waited a moment or two and said quietly, “Peep!” After a moment of shock, in which her siblings wondered if she was going to live through such a bold move, everyone started laughing, and the fight was over. I’m sure Grandma didn’t really mind that one little case of disobedience.
My sisters and I loved each other dearly, and we still do to this day. We are best friends, and enjoy spending time together. Still, that did not stop the normal sibling rivalry and other forms of fights kids have. Looking back on them now, we can laugh it off, but for me the scars I left on my sisters are still pretty fresh in my memory. I always had long finger nails…or daggers, weapons, knives, or whatever you might call them. I could be pretty dangerous. Not as dangerous, apparently and my sister Caryl was, however. I don’t know how Alena survived such a horrendous attack.
Of course, Caryl and Alena were playing around in this picture, but that wasn’t always the case. With 5 girls in the house, there were bound to be some cat fights, or just plain knock down drag out fights. What I do remember vividly, however, was that when we got too screamy for my mom, she would clear the living room floor, and make us fight it out. Those fights usually ended up with each of us pulling the other’s long hair, refusing to give in, until we were both head down on the floor being held there by the hair. We would usually end up laughing at the silliness of this type of battle, and quickly move back to the whole sisterly love thing. Wise woman, my mom!
We never stopped goofing around with what many people might have thought was fighting, but in reality was play. Scenes like Caryl pretending to choke Alena were not uncommon, because we loved to tease each other, and 5 sisters can come up with a lot of ways to tease…or torture. Yes, there were some fights, but I can honestly say that there were a lot more times where sisterly love prevailed, and that is probably why we have remained such good friends all these years. I love my sisters, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. We have grown and changed trough the years, but our love for each other has not grown dim. My sisters were, are, and always will be my best friends. Sisterly love always wins in the end.
