It won't be long!
I'll get the ice cream!
Gratitude #83 - Sweet Biddies!
11 years ago
Saturday, August 15, 2009
reunion
Today is a family reunion.
Miriam’s mom was one of 7, and decades ago they began this annual get together. To begin with many of the 7 would attend, then slowly and steadily the scythe guy reduced the number.
About as long as I can remember we have been going. Some years we could not make it, we were not there last year. The Uncles and Aunts, really wonderful, salt of the earth kind of people. Uncle Les was the mayor of his town for a long time, but the town was less than a thousand people. They were just good people.
Aunt Margie, the youngest, who looks so much like Miriam’s mom to be scary, is the only one left. Often she comes to the reunion, but not always.
Now it is cousins and 2nd and 3rd cousins. I have been part of this family for a LONG time and I am amazed at how few I can recognize! Miriam does better.
She enjoys talking to her extended family, and while it is not my favorite event, it is good for her and I will gladly attend on that basis.
Two of our daughters will be there, along with 5 or 6 grandkids so I can find all sorts of reasons to have a good time.
Captain Peter Coffin, in an effort to escape the Atlantic ocean, went west and I guess when he got to eastern Oregon it dawned on him that if he went too much further he would be at the Pacific ocean, so he stopped.
They lived up on Pumpkin Ridge, just past Summerville in the Grande Round Valley. Great place to live and raise kids.
Today the temps will be in the low 70’s, so we will take clothes suitable for cool to chilly temps. You never know. One year it rained hard!
Miriam’s mom was one of 7, and decades ago they began this annual get together. To begin with many of the 7 would attend, then slowly and steadily the scythe guy reduced the number.
About as long as I can remember we have been going. Some years we could not make it, we were not there last year. The Uncles and Aunts, really wonderful, salt of the earth kind of people. Uncle Les was the mayor of his town for a long time, but the town was less than a thousand people. They were just good people.
Aunt Margie, the youngest, who looks so much like Miriam’s mom to be scary, is the only one left. Often she comes to the reunion, but not always.
Now it is cousins and 2nd and 3rd cousins. I have been part of this family for a LONG time and I am amazed at how few I can recognize! Miriam does better.
She enjoys talking to her extended family, and while it is not my favorite event, it is good for her and I will gladly attend on that basis.
Two of our daughters will be there, along with 5 or 6 grandkids so I can find all sorts of reasons to have a good time.
Captain Peter Coffin, in an effort to escape the Atlantic ocean, went west and I guess when he got to eastern Oregon it dawned on him that if he went too much further he would be at the Pacific ocean, so he stopped.
They lived up on Pumpkin Ridge, just past Summerville in the Grande Round Valley. Great place to live and raise kids.
Today the temps will be in the low 70’s, so we will take clothes suitable for cool to chilly temps. You never know. One year it rained hard!
Friday, August 14, 2009
thirty two years
When I turned 70 it was not a big deal, in my head at least.
It was just a number. But later that year my first born turned 50 and that was a shake up. Me being 70 is normal and is ok, but where has my baby gone?
Same for anniversaries. That we have had our 53rd this year is just how it goes with folk our age (sometimes), but today that same first born has been married 32 years.
Now, that makes me feel older than I did yesterday.
Sorta.
Any way, I am proud of you both, Sid and Arline. Thirty one years is a long time, when you think about it.
And, I guess it is OK, after all!
It was just a number. But later that year my first born turned 50 and that was a shake up. Me being 70 is normal and is ok, but where has my baby gone?
Same for anniversaries. That we have had our 53rd this year is just how it goes with folk our age (sometimes), but today that same first born has been married 32 years.
Now, that makes me feel older than I did yesterday.
Sorta.
Any way, I am proud of you both, Sid and Arline. Thirty one years is a long time, when you think about it.
And, I guess it is OK, after all!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
aunt ruby
Ruby is my father's only sister, and the only one of the 5 still with us.
Tomorrow she is 94. Not in good health, but she is still with us.
When she had her 90th birthday, she said that it would be her last.
Each birthday since then she has repeated that line.
Last year we were sure she would be right, but here it is 94.
Yet, this may well be her last birthday.
Her kids are planning a party.
Juanita
Of the women I have known-- Juanita is right at the top of the list.
She can be demanding, a bit pushy and rather domineering. But she is a jewell. She does what she does with a smile, and I have never felt a tinge of aggravation the countless times I have worked with her. And, she gets things done!
Juanita’s younger brother, Art, died a few years ago. He was a prince of a guy and a super mason (the kind that work with mortar and bricks!). I have written about him.
She is ageless. She could be 65 or she could be 80. I don’t really know.
When my church group has a potluck we invite Juanita. She loves to cook, but she lives alone and there is no one to eat her good food, so we help her out on that one.
She is a lady who is used to being in charge, but she does it with tremendous grace. We may laugh between ourselves, but we all admire her greatly.
In the last few years, she has lost two sisters and a brother. This winter Juanita was in the hospital and it sounded real bad. I thought that maybe this was the beginning of the end for her, but she fought hard and now is back in charge of things.
I, for one, am so glad to have her back.
Today she called me to see if I would help her setup a room for a weekend event at the church. Normally Sam would help take care of that, but Sam is still recuperating from his surgery.
Some, I am told, upon retirement sit and rust, while waiting for the guy with the scythe.
Not Juanita.
She can be demanding, a bit pushy and rather domineering. But she is a jewell. She does what she does with a smile, and I have never felt a tinge of aggravation the countless times I have worked with her. And, she gets things done!
Juanita’s younger brother, Art, died a few years ago. He was a prince of a guy and a super mason (the kind that work with mortar and bricks!). I have written about him.
She is ageless. She could be 65 or she could be 80. I don’t really know.
When my church group has a potluck we invite Juanita. She loves to cook, but she lives alone and there is no one to eat her good food, so we help her out on that one.
She is a lady who is used to being in charge, but she does it with tremendous grace. We may laugh between ourselves, but we all admire her greatly.
In the last few years, she has lost two sisters and a brother. This winter Juanita was in the hospital and it sounded real bad. I thought that maybe this was the beginning of the end for her, but she fought hard and now is back in charge of things.
I, for one, am so glad to have her back.
Today she called me to see if I would help her setup a room for a weekend event at the church. Normally Sam would help take care of that, but Sam is still recuperating from his surgery.
Some, I am told, upon retirement sit and rust, while waiting for the guy with the scythe.
Not Juanita.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
ahh - cousins?
This note, in my grandfather's hand writing, explains how his mother and father are actually related!
Interesting!
sam
Some years ago my pastor called.
He was planning on a baptism in the middle of the week, and would I (as head deacon) get the baptistry prepared and be there at the baptism.
He explained that the man who was being baptized was extremely shy and very self conscious. He wanted no one to be there except the three of us.
Just before the ceremony the pastor explains that Sam has spots on the back of his hand that has lost pigment, big white splashes on his tanned skin, and that he was very self conscious about it. I shoved out my hand: “Like this?” “Yea, just like that.”
So Sam was baptized. He came up out of the baptistry and I shook his hand, showed him mine, and said; “Sam, we are really brothers now, even our hands are alike.”
We have been good friends every since.
Earlier this week Sam called me. It was fairly early in the morning. “Dave” he said, “could you come down to the hospital, and help me with some matters.”
I did not know he was in the hospital, but he had been there for 5 days. He had not told me, unassuming as he is. The hospital is about 3 or 4 minutes away, so it was not an imposition at all.
He explained that he wanted me to go his apartment, get some cash he had there, deposit some of it in his bank account and bring the rest to him. Easy enough.
An hour later they discharged Sam from the hospital. I went back at the assigned time and took him to a friend’s house, where he was staying. The friend is out of town for a few days and Sam is looking after things, and recovering.
Tonight he called again. He cannot drive yet. He needed a ride. We went to the pharmacy, turned in a prescription, then to the drive in window at KFC to get him a big bucket of chicken.
Ten pieces, he said would last him until his friend comes home in a few days. He thinks he can drive tomorrow.
I reminded him that he can call me any time if he needs help. “I know that and I really appreciate it.”
He is just a couple years older than I am, but he has had a rougher life. His wife of 50 years died just before I met him. He has children and grandchildren, but does not seem to have too much interplay with them. In the days before he “found the Lord” he may well have not been a perfect father.
Sam is a genuine good guy. He worked very hard and low wages, saw to it that his kids were better educated, and now in retirement, his resources are few.
He does not complain. When I ask him why he works so hard to help others, he just points up: “It’s for Him.”
I am privileged to be his friend.
He was planning on a baptism in the middle of the week, and would I (as head deacon) get the baptistry prepared and be there at the baptism.
He explained that the man who was being baptized was extremely shy and very self conscious. He wanted no one to be there except the three of us.
Just before the ceremony the pastor explains that Sam has spots on the back of his hand that has lost pigment, big white splashes on his tanned skin, and that he was very self conscious about it. I shoved out my hand: “Like this?” “Yea, just like that.”
So Sam was baptized. He came up out of the baptistry and I shook his hand, showed him mine, and said; “Sam, we are really brothers now, even our hands are alike.”
We have been good friends every since.
Earlier this week Sam called me. It was fairly early in the morning. “Dave” he said, “could you come down to the hospital, and help me with some matters.”
I did not know he was in the hospital, but he had been there for 5 days. He had not told me, unassuming as he is. The hospital is about 3 or 4 minutes away, so it was not an imposition at all.
He explained that he wanted me to go his apartment, get some cash he had there, deposit some of it in his bank account and bring the rest to him. Easy enough.
An hour later they discharged Sam from the hospital. I went back at the assigned time and took him to a friend’s house, where he was staying. The friend is out of town for a few days and Sam is looking after things, and recovering.
Tonight he called again. He cannot drive yet. He needed a ride. We went to the pharmacy, turned in a prescription, then to the drive in window at KFC to get him a big bucket of chicken.
Ten pieces, he said would last him until his friend comes home in a few days. He thinks he can drive tomorrow.
I reminded him that he can call me any time if he needs help. “I know that and I really appreciate it.”
He is just a couple years older than I am, but he has had a rougher life. His wife of 50 years died just before I met him. He has children and grandchildren, but does not seem to have too much interplay with them. In the days before he “found the Lord” he may well have not been a perfect father.
Sam is a genuine good guy. He worked very hard and low wages, saw to it that his kids were better educated, and now in retirement, his resources are few.
He does not complain. When I ask him why he works so hard to help others, he just points up: “It’s for Him.”
I am privileged to be his friend.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
the pillow
We have had a couple of pillows on our couch for a long time.
Leo runs to the window, climbs up on the back of the chairs and couch, looks out at whatever he sees, a cat or a squirrel, then he runs back and grabs one of the pillows and shakes it.
I guess he is showing us how protective he is! Then he feels he should be rewarded and eats a single kibble.
Of course, given time, the pillow was shook up and worn out.
One day Miriam was determined that she would make a new pillow.
When I was a kid I did a fair amount of sewing, and I had a sewing machine in my studio in graduate school (used it too), and maybe I will take up simple sewing one day, but now I just watch.
So we went out to the fabric store and we looked and looked for the perfect piece of fabric, and we finally found it.
In the past, making a pillow like that would have been an hour project at most. This time it did not work. She said the machine did not work right and then she just gave up.
Her skills at this point, were not up to her plan, her small time dream.
The sewing machine is sitting on a chair, the fabric folded up and put some where else.
I did not mention it to her at all, and one day I’ll put the sewing machine away and she will not miss it.
It hurts.
Leo runs to the window, climbs up on the back of the chairs and couch, looks out at whatever he sees, a cat or a squirrel, then he runs back and grabs one of the pillows and shakes it.
I guess he is showing us how protective he is! Then he feels he should be rewarded and eats a single kibble.
Of course, given time, the pillow was shook up and worn out.
One day Miriam was determined that she would make a new pillow.
When I was a kid I did a fair amount of sewing, and I had a sewing machine in my studio in graduate school (used it too), and maybe I will take up simple sewing one day, but now I just watch.
So we went out to the fabric store and we looked and looked for the perfect piece of fabric, and we finally found it.
In the past, making a pillow like that would have been an hour project at most. This time it did not work. She said the machine did not work right and then she just gave up.
Her skills at this point, were not up to her plan, her small time dream.
The sewing machine is sitting on a chair, the fabric folded up and put some where else.
I did not mention it to her at all, and one day I’ll put the sewing machine away and she will not miss it.
It hurts.
Monday, August 10, 2009
perfect
My neighbor's garden just about rings the big bell.
This was taken in the spring when all gardens tend to look their best, but even now his garden looks good. As soon as a row of corn has been picked, boom, out it goes, giving light to the squash he planted beneath the corn.
At his insistence we eat corn and early tomatoes from his garden.
That corn is really good, btw.
experiment
I once said that my garden was about half experimental.
My neighbor, on the other hand, has few experiments in his garden. He plants a row of the same radishes each year (they are the best btw), a row of red beets, a row of cabbage, all the same varieties each year.
From time to time he does vary the variety of tomatoes he plants, but that is about all.
That might seem a bad thing, but his garden is as close to perfect as any I have ever seen. Before he retired, he was president of a local company that is huge in developing hybrid corn seed. Yet the sweet corn he grows is one his company developed a couple decades ago.
Not only is my garden an experiment, but so, it seems, is my life. And having plans for my or our future is a luxury that I am not allowed.
When AD slithers into your life, you live on a different time table, it seems. The disease regulates your life, like it or not.
What are my plans for my future? Not many actually. Most revolve around taking care of Miriam. Where should we live? Any change would upset her, so that is out. As long as she is here in her house with her husband (her only real close friend), she is ok.
Mostly.
My neighbor, on the other hand, has few experiments in his garden. He plants a row of the same radishes each year (they are the best btw), a row of red beets, a row of cabbage, all the same varieties each year.
From time to time he does vary the variety of tomatoes he plants, but that is about all.
That might seem a bad thing, but his garden is as close to perfect as any I have ever seen. Before he retired, he was president of a local company that is huge in developing hybrid corn seed. Yet the sweet corn he grows is one his company developed a couple decades ago.
Not only is my garden an experiment, but so, it seems, is my life. And having plans for my or our future is a luxury that I am not allowed.
When AD slithers into your life, you live on a different time table, it seems. The disease regulates your life, like it or not.
What are my plans for my future? Not many actually. Most revolve around taking care of Miriam. Where should we live? Any change would upset her, so that is out. As long as she is here in her house with her husband (her only real close friend), she is ok.
Mostly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
