We all have memories of the hearts that we have touched and that have touched us. These tend to pop up in the most unusual times. Times when bits and pieces of ourselves are exposed to the past and we want to walk though the garden of memories. Today I went in search of just that.
Where does one go to find a memory? I went to make it seem real again. I went to a jewelry box where I pulled out a necklace made of clay pieces and rough stones on a hard wire ring that at one time encircled my neck. The colors were that of steel and brown clay and wasn't elegant or sparkling or any of the things that one sets up as beautiful. It was rather primitive but was given to me by a person who made me feel important. One who helped me deal with the trauma of the time.
This person wasn't a new person in my life but a person who I had never thought of as a personal friend.
He was much older than I was by twelve years and even he had never thought in terms of me as an associate. We had been teacher and pupil for most of the time that we had known each other. He had given me my first nickname and that seemed strange because all my other teachers use my full name but not Jim. He was the first to call me Phyl.
So how did this relationship get reacquainted? It was at a class reunion. I had gone with my cousin and her husband as a third wheel. A lot of my fellow students were asking Jim to dance with them. I did too. He was easy to dance with. As the evening wore on, my cousin asked me if I were ready to leave or if I had a way home. I turned to Jim and said that I hadn't been invited. So he then asked if I wanted a ride home (to my parents house where I was visiting). I accepted.
The trip home encluded a side trip to a bar owned by another fellow student. We also had a retired teacher with us. At the bar, one of the other fellow students agreed to take the other teacher home so Jim drove me to my parent's home.
We sat in the car for a long time talking and then walked out to the lake in the front yard and onto the dock. Having his arms around me, he asked me what would happen if he let go of me? I told him that I would probably fall backwards into the lake. At that time there was an ad about doing something like that for a tea company. I mentioned that it would be the "Nestle plunge."
We went back to the car and talked some more. It seems that he had gone through a lot of surgery for a cancerous condition with in the last few years. I asked him if he would do me a favor. Would he write to me? He said that he would.
I never thought I would hear from him but I got a letter after returning to California at the end of my vacation. In his letter he gave me an address to write to him if I would like to do that.
I had just found out that my physical tests showing that I would need some cancer surgery too. I wrote to him and he was very supportive. We wrote back and forth for ten months. During one of these months, he went out west hunting with his sons. It was then that I got the package with the necklace in it. I was surprised because our relationship was just a friendship and nothing more. I didn't need anything from him except to know that someone else had been there and understood what was going on in my world.
After moving my family back to Wisconsin, he visited us at the cottage. The kids were doing their homework and he was upset because they didn't have an up-to-date dictionary. The next week we got another present, a dictionary.
I never did see him again but we did write back and forth from time to time. He was always ready to hear what I was doing and I learned about the house he was building and the pond that was being put in across the street for ducks. He loved birds. He belonged to Ducks Unlimited.
Today while traveling on the internet, I found his name mentioned by a national ornithology organization. I also went in to see if I could find him in Wisconsin Obituaries but haven't so far. He was older than I am so I have a feeling that he has moved on but I only hope that the understanding and love that we shared was a nice thing for him too.
Right now I am hung up on the word love because everyone would think that this means a physical relationship and ours was not that at all. He helped me through a rough patch and showed me how to deal with rough patches. There have been many rough patches since then but this was a biggy as I felt "out there by myself." He will always stand out as a treasure in my heart.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Words
The printed word is so loud even after I put the bookmark in and find myself doing other things, the words keep haunting me. "Take care of yourself." "I will." Seem to echo in my brain as I close my eyes to go back to sleep. How can one sleep when all this action is taking place?
Yes, I read mysteries to give my life interest. To find a reason to get up. To get lost in the world of somewhere else with someone else. The me that I am is no longer of interest to me. Some writers pull me into a tangle of people who are all involved with a world of their own and with words that are shared with me. One writer had me involved on a personal level of caring about four different people/families all at the same time. It was easy to see that each character had a life and problems keeping that life working, yet they were all involved in another scenario that none of them wanted to be involved in.
I have been reading a mystery for an hour and it is now 7:30am so I decided to go back to bed. When I climbed in and put my head on the same pillow that I had been on an hour before, I closed my eyes and was back into the book. The characters were real and conversing right in front of me.
This surely is not normal. What am I supposed to be learning from this? That we all live in a transient world? That our lives are written on paper somewhere and we are only playing out our script? So how thick is reality? Can someone put a bookmark in my story? Is that the only time that I can close my eyes and sleep without the interaction of others. Is someone reading my story so fast that I can't rest. Am I a 300 page book that can be read in a "twinkling of an eye"?
Yes, I read mysteries to give my life interest. To find a reason to get up. To get lost in the world of somewhere else with someone else. The me that I am is no longer of interest to me. Some writers pull me into a tangle of people who are all involved with a world of their own and with words that are shared with me. One writer had me involved on a personal level of caring about four different people/families all at the same time. It was easy to see that each character had a life and problems keeping that life working, yet they were all involved in another scenario that none of them wanted to be involved in.
I have been reading a mystery for an hour and it is now 7:30am so I decided to go back to bed. When I climbed in and put my head on the same pillow that I had been on an hour before, I closed my eyes and was back into the book. The characters were real and conversing right in front of me.
This surely is not normal. What am I supposed to be learning from this? That we all live in a transient world? That our lives are written on paper somewhere and we are only playing out our script? So how thick is reality? Can someone put a bookmark in my story? Is that the only time that I can close my eyes and sleep without the interaction of others. Is someone reading my story so fast that I can't rest. Am I a 300 page book that can be read in a "twinkling of an eye"?
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Laying Cement
It was decided that the area between our two houses should be cemented in to eliminate the mess that always came with the rain. Steve and Patty lived next door. By next door I mean that their garage was 7 feet away from ours. In between was a small picket fence standing in dirt.
We had teenagers and preteens but their children were much younger. Steve was a football coach at the local high school. It was midsummer and Steve and I were discussing the possibility of putting cement into that area between the garages. Not only would it make it easier for the kids to get their bikes into the patio area of our back yard but Steve could get his garbage cans around to the front of the garage without the mess.
Now laying cement is something that I have watched being done around my childhood home all my growing up years, so it was easy to know what steps needed to be done. I guess if I had never seen this being done, I could have gone to the library to learn how.
I told Steve that we had to take the fence down first but before this came down, I marked corresponding marks on his garage and mine to show where the posts had been set into the ground. Then I went to the hardware store and bought metal cleats for the posts to set in when we were finished. For the section that we were going to be working on, we only needed four cleats.
The next thing was to dig out and lay forms. Steve had decided that he wanted to do the area between the garages and would like to bring his section back around to his patio by the back door. It sounded like a great idea. So forms, it was.
Steve and Patty worked hard on putting their forms up. They wanted the walk in the back yard to curve so they had gotten some flexible wood. They were so proud of what they had done. I went over to see how it was going and had to explain that forms were like cookie cutters. They would have to take the small support posts out from inside the area and support it from the outside. So they tore their forms apart and did them again. This time they looked great.
As we were going to have Premix deliver our cement, I mentioned that no matter how you calculate the amount that you need, they always deliver more. So we each need to have another place for the extra. I dug out under my garbage cans that were sitting along the side of the house near the front, hidden by some very tall bushes from the street. I put a form in that area so I was ready for the overflow. Steve and Sandy decided to use some of their wood to make a flowerbed edging with the remaining.
Now we had to figure out how much cement we needed in volume. In various places you need a certain depth to compensate for freezing temperatures but in California that wasn't necessary. So we only decided on 3 inches of depth. After all our calculations, we decided that we needed 4 yards of cement. Now that is a lot of cement to work fast.
Steve had a shallow garden wheelbarrow but I had a deep one. I knew that I would never be able to carry mine full of cement so we exchanged. I showed Patty and my daughter Kathy, who was in High School at the time, what their job was going to be. As we dumped the cement into the area of the forms, it was their job to move it next to the edges and then "Chuck" it down to get the air bubbles out as much as possible. I gave Kathy a metal edger to do this with.
Next we called the Cement Company. Steve had decided that next Tuesday would be a good day to do this. So it was all set. Forms in, wheelbarrows exchanged, "chuckers" ready, cleats ready, trowels ready; we were all set. On Tuesday I called to see when they would be able to deliver our load and the guy wanted to know, "What time will your husband be home?" Knowing that most men think like that, I calmly told him that 2:00 o'clock would be the best time to do this.
At 2:00 the truck came and we went to work. Kathy is a very hard worker and as I didn't have as much cement in this garden wheelbarrow, she had it "Chucked" and ready for the next load as fast as I could move this.
After the truck left, we smoothed it down with wood trowels. We had pitched it a bit toward the center between his building and mine and then set the cleats in. We let it set up a bit and did another trowel job while kneeling on wood that we floated to keep us from being in the cement and leaving marks.
When we were done, we stood back and admired out work. Steven and Patty had worked hard too so I went in the front of our house and got some beer along with a soda for Kathy. By the time my husband got home, we were in Steve's back yard drinking beer. (What time will your husband be home? Neanderthals!)
Before we finished this job, Kathy asked if she could put her initials into this cement. I thought it was a very good idea so she did. As far as I know they are still there 35 years later.
To finish this job, the fence went back up and by cutting the bottoms of the posts off, it sat very nicely into the cleats, where it was nailed solidly.
We had teenagers and preteens but their children were much younger. Steve was a football coach at the local high school. It was midsummer and Steve and I were discussing the possibility of putting cement into that area between the garages. Not only would it make it easier for the kids to get their bikes into the patio area of our back yard but Steve could get his garbage cans around to the front of the garage without the mess.
Now laying cement is something that I have watched being done around my childhood home all my growing up years, so it was easy to know what steps needed to be done. I guess if I had never seen this being done, I could have gone to the library to learn how.
I told Steve that we had to take the fence down first but before this came down, I marked corresponding marks on his garage and mine to show where the posts had been set into the ground. Then I went to the hardware store and bought metal cleats for the posts to set in when we were finished. For the section that we were going to be working on, we only needed four cleats.
The next thing was to dig out and lay forms. Steve had decided that he wanted to do the area between the garages and would like to bring his section back around to his patio by the back door. It sounded like a great idea. So forms, it was.
Steve and Patty worked hard on putting their forms up. They wanted the walk in the back yard to curve so they had gotten some flexible wood. They were so proud of what they had done. I went over to see how it was going and had to explain that forms were like cookie cutters. They would have to take the small support posts out from inside the area and support it from the outside. So they tore their forms apart and did them again. This time they looked great.
As we were going to have Premix deliver our cement, I mentioned that no matter how you calculate the amount that you need, they always deliver more. So we each need to have another place for the extra. I dug out under my garbage cans that were sitting along the side of the house near the front, hidden by some very tall bushes from the street. I put a form in that area so I was ready for the overflow. Steve and Sandy decided to use some of their wood to make a flowerbed edging with the remaining.
Now we had to figure out how much cement we needed in volume. In various places you need a certain depth to compensate for freezing temperatures but in California that wasn't necessary. So we only decided on 3 inches of depth. After all our calculations, we decided that we needed 4 yards of cement. Now that is a lot of cement to work fast.
Steve had a shallow garden wheelbarrow but I had a deep one. I knew that I would never be able to carry mine full of cement so we exchanged. I showed Patty and my daughter Kathy, who was in High School at the time, what their job was going to be. As we dumped the cement into the area of the forms, it was their job to move it next to the edges and then "Chuck" it down to get the air bubbles out as much as possible. I gave Kathy a metal edger to do this with.
Next we called the Cement Company. Steve had decided that next Tuesday would be a good day to do this. So it was all set. Forms in, wheelbarrows exchanged, "chuckers" ready, cleats ready, trowels ready; we were all set. On Tuesday I called to see when they would be able to deliver our load and the guy wanted to know, "What time will your husband be home?" Knowing that most men think like that, I calmly told him that 2:00 o'clock would be the best time to do this.
At 2:00 the truck came and we went to work. Kathy is a very hard worker and as I didn't have as much cement in this garden wheelbarrow, she had it "Chucked" and ready for the next load as fast as I could move this.
After the truck left, we smoothed it down with wood trowels. We had pitched it a bit toward the center between his building and mine and then set the cleats in. We let it set up a bit and did another trowel job while kneeling on wood that we floated to keep us from being in the cement and leaving marks.
When we were done, we stood back and admired out work. Steven and Patty had worked hard too so I went in the front of our house and got some beer along with a soda for Kathy. By the time my husband got home, we were in Steve's back yard drinking beer. (What time will your husband be home? Neanderthals!)
Before we finished this job, Kathy asked if she could put her initials into this cement. I thought it was a very good idea so she did. As far as I know they are still there 35 years later.
To finish this job, the fence went back up and by cutting the bottoms of the posts off, it sat very nicely into the cleats, where it was nailed solidly.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The Kathy Story
My part of her story
What was I thinking? Now that I look back, I can understand the lives of my children and their attitudes toward me a lot more.
So where was the beginning? When the children were little, we had a lot of fun. There was always something fun to do. Each one of them had a very different personality that made them unique.
Kathy was very outgoing until 2nd grade, then she did a real flip. She became a very shy person and went into her "littles" phase. Everything she did was little. To a degree she has extricated herself from her body so that what she saw wasn't what you and I would see. If she were drawing a picture of me sitting in this chair; I would be two circles, one inside the other inside a square. The smaller of the two circles would have lines on it denoting hair and you might see a triangle on one side of the circle that would be my nose. The perspective would be as one would see me while sitting on the ceiling of the room.
Her teacher complained because all 25 math problems would be done on the upper left quarter of a page of paper, all done in miniature.
Her little brothers didn't help. They would run into her room anytime they wanted to so a hook was finally put on her door.
I got involved with 4-H at this time to be a part of her world. I taught the knitting and crocheting group. There were about 8 girls in the class. We started out with crocheting and did that for the first semester. The second semester we learned to knit. Kathy has a problem shifting from one thing to another and when it came to knitting, she decided that she had learned to use one needle and wasn't about to learn how to use two. So for the girls that didn't want to learn knitting, I had some more advanced crocheting projects for them. Kathy made a crocheted blanket/throw in rainbow colors.
The move to Wisconsin was hardest on her but luck was with her. Her cousin Jeff had a group of friends, both male and female that hung around together and they welcomed her into their group. To make this even smoother for her, after we got to know the kids in the group I gave an all-night New Years Eve party at our cottage at the lake. The party was a great success, we ate, danced, told stories in front of the fire. If someone was getting sleepy, we made them run around the outside of the house once in the snow.
The summer after that move, we moved again. I bought a house in town so that I wouldn't have to do so much running. The kids could walk to school. They could walk to the library or uptown. They had a freedom that I thought was necessary.
Kathy got sick during this time. I took her to the doctor, as any parent would, and the doctor told us that she needed a shot to correct this. Before the change (2nd grade) she was the big kid and took all the shots that were required for her. I would take them to the clinic on vaccination day and they would all get their boosters, but after 2nd grade, she no longer wanted anything to do with this. Even going to the dentist was a choir. Our dentist said that he wouldn't work on her unless I could calm her down. I would talk to her about her choices, and then I would stay in the room while he fixed a tooth.
Back at the doctor's office in her teen years, it took two nurses and a doctor to hold her down to get the shot. While I was making arrangements to get her medicine, she left. I couldn't find her in the snow for two days and she was running a fever.
Much later when we talked about this, she told me that it is very primitive to give people shots to get them well. I didn't know that then but I do agree with her now on this point. Were they smarter than me even then?
Three months before graduation, Kathy didn't want to get out of bed in the morning. I asked if she was sick and she told me that she wasn't going to school. We talked about the fact that I had to go to work and it was her job to go to school. She told me that she wasn't going to graduated because she was flunking all of her classes. We talked and I agreed that if she would go to school, after work I would see if we could find a tutor to bring her up to speed so that she could graduate, but that she had to go to school. She left for school that morning and wasn't happy about it but she didn't come home that night.
At first I called her friends to ask if they had seen her. I spent a hard night driving around looking for her. Then I made a call that I didn't want to make. I called California to talk to her father. He basically told me that again anything that happens is my fault. Not needing that, I continued to call people. Where could she have gone? Finally I was told that she was living with one of her friend's at their house. At least I knew that she was safe, so left her alone. I supposed that was another of my mistakes as a mother. I should have marched over there and demanded this person who was larger than I was to come home and behave like a real person, but I didn't have anyone to back me up. The boys were smaller than I was.
I didn't get invited to her graduation and yes, she did graduate. When I should have been having family over for her graduation, I was invited to her cousin's party.
When I think back, maybe we always had a push/pull relationship. I remember once when the boys were doing a lot of stuff, she walked out and I got a call from the police department. I went down to pick her up, they said she was just out walking after curfew. We sat in the police department and talked about who was the mother and who should discipline the boys.
After graduation she went to live with an aunt of mine. The aunt helped her get a job at the bakery of a grocery store.
Later she wanted to go see her father. From the time she was born, she would dance rings around her father. She loved him so much. I think the feeling was mutual because before the divorce he told me that if I would find homes for the boys, he thought we could have a wonderful family with just the three of us.
Before she went out to see him she was very nervous. She and I did some role playing and then she left. I heard from her a couple of time while she was out there. Mostly how she was always getting blamed for this or that and how he wouldn't help her get a job etc. Finally I sent her some money and told her that it was her umbrella when she was ready to come home. A friend of her Dad's helped her get a ticket and she had found a kitten that she wanted to bring back so he helped her get everything ready to leave. According to Kathy, her Stepmother was nicer to her than her Dad was. A few years later she divorced her Dad.
She came home and I helped her find an apartment in Appleton. Then she got a job there and seemed the happiest that I had seen her in a long time. She met a guy that she was interested in and told me that she wanted to get married.
Again she wasn't happy with all of this because between his mother and myself, we wanted a church wedding. She insisted that it only be for the family. We agreed. His mother was so upset about all of this, none of her friends and neighbors was allowed at the wedding. So I hosted a party after church at a local restaurant. When she walked in she was angry. The party had about 20 guests but that was 20 more than Kathy wanted. I felt that the party was for everyone else and maybe Kathy would get over it.
Kathy doesn't get over things well. Maybe she has a good reason. Her husband was picked up the year after her wedding for murder and Kathy went into hiding. Of course when they couldn't find her, they came after me. I was the only one who knew where she was. Life was hard then. The police were here every day but at least she didn't have to go through this.
After 5 years she was able to pull herself out from behind the looking glass. She told me that she felt like she was Alice and knew that everyone was out there but couldn't contact anyone. She got her divorce and tried to move ahead with her life. She moved to Green Bay and got a job in a Cheese factory. One of the things that she enjoys the most is live performances, plays and such. So she would dress up and go to plays where she would meet new people. (She was a very pretty girl) The thing that bothered her the most was that whenever she would be talking to a nice man and he would ask what she does, she could see the clouds cover his eyes and he would walk away.
Two years ago I was tending my dying sister and we ended up in Depere. I was staying with Kathy and driving over to be with my sister 12 hours a day. I don't have it straight in my head yet because Kathy would come over after work sometimes and sit with us, but I think the night that I didn't expect my sister to make it through the night, I should have found a way to tell Kathy and have her to do an all nighter with us but I didn't. Vern had brought my other sister up after sending her a ticket to fly back to Wisconsin. I think my daughter felt that I left her out and looking back I guess I did, but at the time I'm not sure I was really working everything out logically, it was like I was on automatic. After Donna died at 4:00 in the morning, I still didn't tell her. Instead Betty and I drove back to Milwaukee and went to bed. I didn't call her the next day because she would have been at work. Well, I guess I made a lot of mistakes that week because at the funeral, Kathy wouldn't talk to me. The fact is that it is two and a half years later and she still isn't talking to me.
Last spring I went by her house after sending her some pearls that I bought for her in Hawaii, only to find that she had moved in the winter. The packages didn't come back so I guess her forwarding was still working. Perhaps she has divorced me now too?
I really love that lady and sure wish that she were in my life but I am also glad that she is able to stand on her own and be independent, her own person. As a mother, I sure made a lot of mistakes but even as I write this, I'm not sure how I would have changed any of it. Perhaps someday Kathy and I can be friends again?
What was I thinking? Now that I look back, I can understand the lives of my children and their attitudes toward me a lot more.
So where was the beginning? When the children were little, we had a lot of fun. There was always something fun to do. Each one of them had a very different personality that made them unique.
Kathy was very outgoing until 2nd grade, then she did a real flip. She became a very shy person and went into her "littles" phase. Everything she did was little. To a degree she has extricated herself from her body so that what she saw wasn't what you and I would see. If she were drawing a picture of me sitting in this chair; I would be two circles, one inside the other inside a square. The smaller of the two circles would have lines on it denoting hair and you might see a triangle on one side of the circle that would be my nose. The perspective would be as one would see me while sitting on the ceiling of the room.
Her teacher complained because all 25 math problems would be done on the upper left quarter of a page of paper, all done in miniature.
Her little brothers didn't help. They would run into her room anytime they wanted to so a hook was finally put on her door.
I got involved with 4-H at this time to be a part of her world. I taught the knitting and crocheting group. There were about 8 girls in the class. We started out with crocheting and did that for the first semester. The second semester we learned to knit. Kathy has a problem shifting from one thing to another and when it came to knitting, she decided that she had learned to use one needle and wasn't about to learn how to use two. So for the girls that didn't want to learn knitting, I had some more advanced crocheting projects for them. Kathy made a crocheted blanket/throw in rainbow colors.
The move to Wisconsin was hardest on her but luck was with her. Her cousin Jeff had a group of friends, both male and female that hung around together and they welcomed her into their group. To make this even smoother for her, after we got to know the kids in the group I gave an all-night New Years Eve party at our cottage at the lake. The party was a great success, we ate, danced, told stories in front of the fire. If someone was getting sleepy, we made them run around the outside of the house once in the snow.
The summer after that move, we moved again. I bought a house in town so that I wouldn't have to do so much running. The kids could walk to school. They could walk to the library or uptown. They had a freedom that I thought was necessary.
Kathy got sick during this time. I took her to the doctor, as any parent would, and the doctor told us that she needed a shot to correct this. Before the change (2nd grade) she was the big kid and took all the shots that were required for her. I would take them to the clinic on vaccination day and they would all get their boosters, but after 2nd grade, she no longer wanted anything to do with this. Even going to the dentist was a choir. Our dentist said that he wouldn't work on her unless I could calm her down. I would talk to her about her choices, and then I would stay in the room while he fixed a tooth.
Back at the doctor's office in her teen years, it took two nurses and a doctor to hold her down to get the shot. While I was making arrangements to get her medicine, she left. I couldn't find her in the snow for two days and she was running a fever.
Much later when we talked about this, she told me that it is very primitive to give people shots to get them well. I didn't know that then but I do agree with her now on this point. Were they smarter than me even then?
Three months before graduation, Kathy didn't want to get out of bed in the morning. I asked if she was sick and she told me that she wasn't going to school. We talked about the fact that I had to go to work and it was her job to go to school. She told me that she wasn't going to graduated because she was flunking all of her classes. We talked and I agreed that if she would go to school, after work I would see if we could find a tutor to bring her up to speed so that she could graduate, but that she had to go to school. She left for school that morning and wasn't happy about it but she didn't come home that night.
At first I called her friends to ask if they had seen her. I spent a hard night driving around looking for her. Then I made a call that I didn't want to make. I called California to talk to her father. He basically told me that again anything that happens is my fault. Not needing that, I continued to call people. Where could she have gone? Finally I was told that she was living with one of her friend's at their house. At least I knew that she was safe, so left her alone. I supposed that was another of my mistakes as a mother. I should have marched over there and demanded this person who was larger than I was to come home and behave like a real person, but I didn't have anyone to back me up. The boys were smaller than I was.
I didn't get invited to her graduation and yes, she did graduate. When I should have been having family over for her graduation, I was invited to her cousin's party.
When I think back, maybe we always had a push/pull relationship. I remember once when the boys were doing a lot of stuff, she walked out and I got a call from the police department. I went down to pick her up, they said she was just out walking after curfew. We sat in the police department and talked about who was the mother and who should discipline the boys.
After graduation she went to live with an aunt of mine. The aunt helped her get a job at the bakery of a grocery store.
Later she wanted to go see her father. From the time she was born, she would dance rings around her father. She loved him so much. I think the feeling was mutual because before the divorce he told me that if I would find homes for the boys, he thought we could have a wonderful family with just the three of us.
Before she went out to see him she was very nervous. She and I did some role playing and then she left. I heard from her a couple of time while she was out there. Mostly how she was always getting blamed for this or that and how he wouldn't help her get a job etc. Finally I sent her some money and told her that it was her umbrella when she was ready to come home. A friend of her Dad's helped her get a ticket and she had found a kitten that she wanted to bring back so he helped her get everything ready to leave. According to Kathy, her Stepmother was nicer to her than her Dad was. A few years later she divorced her Dad.
She came home and I helped her find an apartment in Appleton. Then she got a job there and seemed the happiest that I had seen her in a long time. She met a guy that she was interested in and told me that she wanted to get married.
Again she wasn't happy with all of this because between his mother and myself, we wanted a church wedding. She insisted that it only be for the family. We agreed. His mother was so upset about all of this, none of her friends and neighbors was allowed at the wedding. So I hosted a party after church at a local restaurant. When she walked in she was angry. The party had about 20 guests but that was 20 more than Kathy wanted. I felt that the party was for everyone else and maybe Kathy would get over it.
Kathy doesn't get over things well. Maybe she has a good reason. Her husband was picked up the year after her wedding for murder and Kathy went into hiding. Of course when they couldn't find her, they came after me. I was the only one who knew where she was. Life was hard then. The police were here every day but at least she didn't have to go through this.
After 5 years she was able to pull herself out from behind the looking glass. She told me that she felt like she was Alice and knew that everyone was out there but couldn't contact anyone. She got her divorce and tried to move ahead with her life. She moved to Green Bay and got a job in a Cheese factory. One of the things that she enjoys the most is live performances, plays and such. So she would dress up and go to plays where she would meet new people. (She was a very pretty girl) The thing that bothered her the most was that whenever she would be talking to a nice man and he would ask what she does, she could see the clouds cover his eyes and he would walk away.
Two years ago I was tending my dying sister and we ended up in Depere. I was staying with Kathy and driving over to be with my sister 12 hours a day. I don't have it straight in my head yet because Kathy would come over after work sometimes and sit with us, but I think the night that I didn't expect my sister to make it through the night, I should have found a way to tell Kathy and have her to do an all nighter with us but I didn't. Vern had brought my other sister up after sending her a ticket to fly back to Wisconsin. I think my daughter felt that I left her out and looking back I guess I did, but at the time I'm not sure I was really working everything out logically, it was like I was on automatic. After Donna died at 4:00 in the morning, I still didn't tell her. Instead Betty and I drove back to Milwaukee and went to bed. I didn't call her the next day because she would have been at work. Well, I guess I made a lot of mistakes that week because at the funeral, Kathy wouldn't talk to me. The fact is that it is two and a half years later and she still isn't talking to me.
Last spring I went by her house after sending her some pearls that I bought for her in Hawaii, only to find that she had moved in the winter. The packages didn't come back so I guess her forwarding was still working. Perhaps she has divorced me now too?
I really love that lady and sure wish that she were in my life but I am also glad that she is able to stand on her own and be independent, her own person. As a mother, I sure made a lot of mistakes but even as I write this, I'm not sure how I would have changed any of it. Perhaps someday Kathy and I can be friends again?
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Things in our lives
Gertie came to work today. I sometimes can't believe her energy. She does such a good job that when she is done, the whole place just shines.
That isn't what today was all about. Today was about memories. One must be getting old if life is a series of memories. Today was that kind of a day.
Each piece of furniture evoked a different time or person. Putting oil on an old water closet reminded me of when this same piece of furniture was being used by my great Uncle Louie. It sat in his room. I don't know where it came from before that but my Mother gave it to me when I moved back to Wisconsin. It had drawer fronts that were cracked and the wood hadn't been taken care of like it should. (I have a great fondness of real wood, with its warmth and depth.) So the first thing that I did was to take a broken drawer to a hardware store to see what would be the best way to repair this. While I was there, it was pointed out to me how well made these drawers were along with the quality of the oak that they were made from. It was suggested to use good wood glue, then refinish the piece. I did that. Blaine helped me pick out new hardware and I put a clear finish on it. That was thirty years ago and to this day it looks lovely.
Then I was cleaning the piano, I remembered the old piano that I left in California. This one was purchased with my first tax refund in Wisconsin. I would come home after work, fix supper and playing my songs to relax. This was after I had refitted the room with track lighting. The house that I bought had a center light in the living room. So I took it apart and wired up a track with three flood lights. One went to a picture that Kathy and I had purchased in California. Another shown on a plant in the corner and the third one illuminated the piano.
How about the library table that lives in the corner of our living room? On the shelf under the table are picture albums that track the life in this household. On the top is a statue that the girls gave me when I retired from the hot-line after 10 years there. The table itself belonged to my grandmother at one time. Then it lived with my sister Donna and her family for a while. Donna really didn't like wood things. Betty and I used to call her the "Glass and Brass" sister. She liked shiny new things. So when her boys wanted to make models of cars and boats, she told them that they could use this table. When I got the table, the knife blade marks were all over the top. I stripped it and sanded the top a great deal. It still carries the marks of model making but has a nice finish on it. I even crocheted a square of material that covers most of it.
Then I moved the round table that I have recently put a skirt on. This table also is wood and belonged to my grandparents. When my mother had it in Florida, she wanted a skirt around it. She didn't have enough material so I made a skirt for it out of some curtains. She had it in her living room with a lamp on it. So many memories.
How about the plant stand that is in the front hallway? My Dad made that a long time ago. While I was cleaning it, I remembered the typing table that he also made. I have it in the basement. As long as I can remember, the typing table was painted black and white. I have since repainted it a blue and I used it with my typewriter. (I miss typewriters.)
Each thing that I touched reminded me of someone or something. How about the "Nesting duck" that I purchased from King when my Uncle Art was alive and living there?
Then there is the dimestore mirror that I bought to put in the boys room when they were little. I purchased 4 feet of rope that is an inch thick. I put the mirror on some waxed paper and using Elmers glue, I glued the rope around the mirror and let it sit. After a few days I pealed the waxed paper off and the mirror has been around for about 40 years still encased in rope.
All the things in our lives are there because we chose them or have chosen to keep them around. They are all a part of us, even down to the scratches on them. Each has a story to tell; a treasure from here or there, from this person or that.
How hard it must be to lose everything to a tornado like the people who live in southern Wisconsin this past week. Lost are the treasures of their lives. How does one recover from such devastation? Perhaps by realizing that all the memories are still there, only the things are gone.
That isn't what today was all about. Today was about memories. One must be getting old if life is a series of memories. Today was that kind of a day.
Each piece of furniture evoked a different time or person. Putting oil on an old water closet reminded me of when this same piece of furniture was being used by my great Uncle Louie. It sat in his room. I don't know where it came from before that but my Mother gave it to me when I moved back to Wisconsin. It had drawer fronts that were cracked and the wood hadn't been taken care of like it should. (I have a great fondness of real wood, with its warmth and depth.) So the first thing that I did was to take a broken drawer to a hardware store to see what would be the best way to repair this. While I was there, it was pointed out to me how well made these drawers were along with the quality of the oak that they were made from. It was suggested to use good wood glue, then refinish the piece. I did that. Blaine helped me pick out new hardware and I put a clear finish on it. That was thirty years ago and to this day it looks lovely.
Then I was cleaning the piano, I remembered the old piano that I left in California. This one was purchased with my first tax refund in Wisconsin. I would come home after work, fix supper and playing my songs to relax. This was after I had refitted the room with track lighting. The house that I bought had a center light in the living room. So I took it apart and wired up a track with three flood lights. One went to a picture that Kathy and I had purchased in California. Another shown on a plant in the corner and the third one illuminated the piano.
How about the library table that lives in the corner of our living room? On the shelf under the table are picture albums that track the life in this household. On the top is a statue that the girls gave me when I retired from the hot-line after 10 years there. The table itself belonged to my grandmother at one time. Then it lived with my sister Donna and her family for a while. Donna really didn't like wood things. Betty and I used to call her the "Glass and Brass" sister. She liked shiny new things. So when her boys wanted to make models of cars and boats, she told them that they could use this table. When I got the table, the knife blade marks were all over the top. I stripped it and sanded the top a great deal. It still carries the marks of model making but has a nice finish on it. I even crocheted a square of material that covers most of it.
Then I moved the round table that I have recently put a skirt on. This table also is wood and belonged to my grandparents. When my mother had it in Florida, she wanted a skirt around it. She didn't have enough material so I made a skirt for it out of some curtains. She had it in her living room with a lamp on it. So many memories.
How about the plant stand that is in the front hallway? My Dad made that a long time ago. While I was cleaning it, I remembered the typing table that he also made. I have it in the basement. As long as I can remember, the typing table was painted black and white. I have since repainted it a blue and I used it with my typewriter. (I miss typewriters.)
Each thing that I touched reminded me of someone or something. How about the "Nesting duck" that I purchased from King when my Uncle Art was alive and living there?
Then there is the dimestore mirror that I bought to put in the boys room when they were little. I purchased 4 feet of rope that is an inch thick. I put the mirror on some waxed paper and using Elmers glue, I glued the rope around the mirror and let it sit. After a few days I pealed the waxed paper off and the mirror has been around for about 40 years still encased in rope.
All the things in our lives are there because we chose them or have chosen to keep them around. They are all a part of us, even down to the scratches on them. Each has a story to tell; a treasure from here or there, from this person or that.
How hard it must be to lose everything to a tornado like the people who live in southern Wisconsin this past week. Lost are the treasures of their lives. How does one recover from such devastation? Perhaps by realizing that all the memories are still there, only the things are gone.
Friday, November 30, 2007
2007
Knowing how much everyone loves Christmas letters, I thought it was time to write one. My sisters and I have talked about this often but we never did it.
Let's start out at the beginning of 2007. What a year. It got off to a rocky start with Sister Betty having a stroke the last few days of 2006 and spending most of the winter/spring trying to recover some of her abilities.
In January, Vern was involved with a head-on collision that totaled his car. It seems that a drunk driver wanted the space where Vern was driving. Due to some Spiritual intervention, Vern came out of that without a scratch and they tell us that Miracles don't happen these days.
Spring was a wonderful time of the year. Vern and I went on a cruise around the Hawaiian Island. Having never been there, neither of us knew what to expect. We got what we expected.
A few months after our trip, I was invited to promote my book at a Wellness Fair in Neenah. While up there I decided to pop in on my daughter and say "Hi". I found out that she had moved in the winter to some new location. I figure she will let me know where she is when she wants me to know.
We decided to have a Couples Ice Cream Social in our back yard in the summer. It turned out wonderful. 5 couples were able to make it. It was nice to relax with friends in our back yard.
In August Vern and I went for a bike ride. I wanted to show him a new place that I had found. He was having trouble keeping up and I teased him because I am usually the one in this relationship that is trying to "keep up". I mentioned that he should talk to his doctor about this when he has his next appointment or check-up.
Halfway through August, my car backed up and knocked me over. I broke my left wrist and cracked my pelvis. Vern took a week off to help me get around and then went back to work. As of the writing of this letter, I am still recovering but getting better every day.
In September my son was released from his six years in prison. This changed a lot of things as I had all of his stuff stored in our basement.
A month after my accident, Vern had his check-up. His doctor felt that he might have had a minor heart attack a few months before and wanted to run more tests. They found arteries blocked on his heart. Later tests showed that about a sixth of his heart on the outside is dead. He is feeling much better with his new medication but now has to make a decision as to whether or not to have a pacemaker put in.
I gave myself a 70th birthday party in November as the "carrot" to getting well. It was the best party that I have ever had. 15 of my good friends came and we played Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader. Everyone went home with a prize and full of Chocolate because the theme was a Chocolate Party.
All in all it has been an interesting year. Maybe 2008 could be just a bit more boring?
Hope you have a great New Year as it is a One year. 2+0+0+8=10 and 1+0= One. That means it is the beginning of all sorts of new things. Enjoy
Let's start out at the beginning of 2007. What a year. It got off to a rocky start with Sister Betty having a stroke the last few days of 2006 and spending most of the winter/spring trying to recover some of her abilities.
In January, Vern was involved with a head-on collision that totaled his car. It seems that a drunk driver wanted the space where Vern was driving. Due to some Spiritual intervention, Vern came out of that without a scratch and they tell us that Miracles don't happen these days.
Spring was a wonderful time of the year. Vern and I went on a cruise around the Hawaiian Island. Having never been there, neither of us knew what to expect. We got what we expected.
A few months after our trip, I was invited to promote my book at a Wellness Fair in Neenah. While up there I decided to pop in on my daughter and say "Hi". I found out that she had moved in the winter to some new location. I figure she will let me know where she is when she wants me to know.
We decided to have a Couples Ice Cream Social in our back yard in the summer. It turned out wonderful. 5 couples were able to make it. It was nice to relax with friends in our back yard.
In August Vern and I went for a bike ride. I wanted to show him a new place that I had found. He was having trouble keeping up and I teased him because I am usually the one in this relationship that is trying to "keep up". I mentioned that he should talk to his doctor about this when he has his next appointment or check-up.
Halfway through August, my car backed up and knocked me over. I broke my left wrist and cracked my pelvis. Vern took a week off to help me get around and then went back to work. As of the writing of this letter, I am still recovering but getting better every day.
In September my son was released from his six years in prison. This changed a lot of things as I had all of his stuff stored in our basement.
A month after my accident, Vern had his check-up. His doctor felt that he might have had a minor heart attack a few months before and wanted to run more tests. They found arteries blocked on his heart. Later tests showed that about a sixth of his heart on the outside is dead. He is feeling much better with his new medication but now has to make a decision as to whether or not to have a pacemaker put in.
I gave myself a 70th birthday party in November as the "carrot" to getting well. It was the best party that I have ever had. 15 of my good friends came and we played Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader. Everyone went home with a prize and full of Chocolate because the theme was a Chocolate Party.
All in all it has been an interesting year. Maybe 2008 could be just a bit more boring?
Hope you have a great New Year as it is a One year. 2+0+0+8=10 and 1+0= One. That means it is the beginning of all sorts of new things. Enjoy
Monday, November 19, 2007
Balance
When is it time to leave the table? What happens when we find ourselves making more wrong decisions than right ones?
It is a very good thing when someone can point this out to us in a friendly manner but for the most part, if all our suggestions are repelled with the idea that we are stupid to think like that, one does start to doubt one's ability to reason.
Being very unconventional in my approach to things, it has not bothered me to have people reject my suggestions. Lately there is a feeling that perhaps others are right, that most of my suggestions or ideas are not valid. Some are even hypocritical. How can I expect others around me to want to do something when I can't even convince my own household that it is a good idea? So that idea is put into a package, tied with cording and dumped down the well. No one will really notice that it is gone.
As I find myself walking down hill a lot, I remember the times that were, and know that I will probably never be there again. I used to walk upright and strong. Now I find myself weak and unable to even hold myself up. As I have questioned in the past, when did this happen? Was it when I said good-by to my parents? I don't think so. I was still very strong then. Was it when I was helping my children? I don't know about this, because it put a lot of cracks in my armor. Was it when my sister died and I lost my family? This was the point where I knew that I couldn't paste things together anymore. I wasn't able to help those around me. This was the point where I gave up a lot of the packages that I thought I could carry and maybe even do some good. This was a major turning point in my life. I have come many times to corners and have taken 90 degree turns to start or handle something that I had never done before but this turning point was much more than a 90 degree turn. It was a bend that almost broke me. Looking back, maybe it was a green stick break? Do those ever heal to the point of being strong again?
I just finished reading a 600 page book that was very well written and has been included in Oprah's book club. It was about life in the 1970s in India. The author tries to make you think it is a fiction book but I do not believe that. I think this author took things that he witnessed in his home country and wrote a fiction around these things. There is a lot of gore and mutilation in the book but running through it is a young main character who is trying to make sense of all of this. He is young and strong. He is intelligent and helpful. The name of the book is A FINE BALANCE. Throughout the book I kept waiting for this balance or even something fine but they didn't arrived. On the last page of this story the young main character can't find a balance either and jumps in front of a train.
Is there a fine balance that one can find in life or is it just a series of situations, puzzles if you will, that need to be pieced together? When one is cleaned up, be ready for the next one? At what point do we get to sit in a balance? Are these just moments in time? A phone call that is pleasant or a 4 hour party that is wonderful, are they the moments in time that we can use for balance?
What happens when the balance doesn't come? When we are thinking things that we know isn't right? Hey, we might not know that at the time but as we ponder them, we know. A lot of times they are pointed out when we express them to others. Mind you, mostly in a very unpleasant way. I think of how my Dad must have felt when my Mother started to lose it. Is that what is happening to me? Am I loosing it? Would it not be better to leave the table?
Perhaps that is why people get angry with me? It must anger people around us when we think like this. Would it not be better to jump in front of a train than to have everyone see the stupid things that you wish to do, thinking that they would be helpful?
This was not written to invoke pity but rather to sort my feelings and see what I can do to make things go better. By pulling back and not doing things, I wouldn't make mistakes. I could do things and then let them cool for a while to see if that would really be a good idea? I could talk to people about what I am thinking of doing, with the hope that they won't laugh, ridicule or holler at me. Perhaps I am blowing all of this out of proportion and taking on "their" problems, thinking that I am supposed to solve them, when I can barely solve my own?
A fine balance would be a wonderful thing. Perhaps the author was using the word "fine" to mean thin or narrow? I will have to look at it from both sides. Life is a thin balance? Just when you think you have something orderly, it falls out of balance. Perhaps life was meant to be that way to keep us interested instead of bored?
May our lives be a little boring from time to time.
It is a very good thing when someone can point this out to us in a friendly manner but for the most part, if all our suggestions are repelled with the idea that we are stupid to think like that, one does start to doubt one's ability to reason.
Being very unconventional in my approach to things, it has not bothered me to have people reject my suggestions. Lately there is a feeling that perhaps others are right, that most of my suggestions or ideas are not valid. Some are even hypocritical. How can I expect others around me to want to do something when I can't even convince my own household that it is a good idea? So that idea is put into a package, tied with cording and dumped down the well. No one will really notice that it is gone.
As I find myself walking down hill a lot, I remember the times that were, and know that I will probably never be there again. I used to walk upright and strong. Now I find myself weak and unable to even hold myself up. As I have questioned in the past, when did this happen? Was it when I said good-by to my parents? I don't think so. I was still very strong then. Was it when I was helping my children? I don't know about this, because it put a lot of cracks in my armor. Was it when my sister died and I lost my family? This was the point where I knew that I couldn't paste things together anymore. I wasn't able to help those around me. This was the point where I gave up a lot of the packages that I thought I could carry and maybe even do some good. This was a major turning point in my life. I have come many times to corners and have taken 90 degree turns to start or handle something that I had never done before but this turning point was much more than a 90 degree turn. It was a bend that almost broke me. Looking back, maybe it was a green stick break? Do those ever heal to the point of being strong again?
I just finished reading a 600 page book that was very well written and has been included in Oprah's book club. It was about life in the 1970s in India. The author tries to make you think it is a fiction book but I do not believe that. I think this author took things that he witnessed in his home country and wrote a fiction around these things. There is a lot of gore and mutilation in the book but running through it is a young main character who is trying to make sense of all of this. He is young and strong. He is intelligent and helpful. The name of the book is A FINE BALANCE. Throughout the book I kept waiting for this balance or even something fine but they didn't arrived. On the last page of this story the young main character can't find a balance either and jumps in front of a train.
Is there a fine balance that one can find in life or is it just a series of situations, puzzles if you will, that need to be pieced together? When one is cleaned up, be ready for the next one? At what point do we get to sit in a balance? Are these just moments in time? A phone call that is pleasant or a 4 hour party that is wonderful, are they the moments in time that we can use for balance?
What happens when the balance doesn't come? When we are thinking things that we know isn't right? Hey, we might not know that at the time but as we ponder them, we know. A lot of times they are pointed out when we express them to others. Mind you, mostly in a very unpleasant way. I think of how my Dad must have felt when my Mother started to lose it. Is that what is happening to me? Am I loosing it? Would it not be better to leave the table?
Perhaps that is why people get angry with me? It must anger people around us when we think like this. Would it not be better to jump in front of a train than to have everyone see the stupid things that you wish to do, thinking that they would be helpful?
This was not written to invoke pity but rather to sort my feelings and see what I can do to make things go better. By pulling back and not doing things, I wouldn't make mistakes. I could do things and then let them cool for a while to see if that would really be a good idea? I could talk to people about what I am thinking of doing, with the hope that they won't laugh, ridicule or holler at me. Perhaps I am blowing all of this out of proportion and taking on "their" problems, thinking that I am supposed to solve them, when I can barely solve my own?
A fine balance would be a wonderful thing. Perhaps the author was using the word "fine" to mean thin or narrow? I will have to look at it from both sides. Life is a thin balance? Just when you think you have something orderly, it falls out of balance. Perhaps life was meant to be that way to keep us interested instead of bored?
May our lives be a little boring from time to time.
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