Christmas 2010 was a happy time as I found out both of my sons would become fathers in the coming year. At long last I would become a grandma. We later learned we would be blessed with a boy for our eldest son and his wife and a grand daughter for my second son and his wife.
Any grandparent will tell you that grandchildren are life changing, even at a time, you'd thought you had seen all the changes you could possibly handle in your lifetime. There are always more surprises I have learned.
Two pregnancies, quite different, and different we knew would be the paths each would take, but the joys of a healthy baby would be the same and the happiness of new grandparents would be delightful. This we knew and anticipated. We were not disappointed. My grandson I was able to see minutes after his birth. It was a sensation I did not expect to feel, and I was surprised and almost overwhelmed by the power of it. The feelings calmed down and life settled into a routine for him and his parents as they learned the ropes of parenthood. I knew it would be different with my grand daughter. I wouldn't see her minutes after her birth and could just hope and pray that everything went easily for both and I was prepared to live on pictures of her right after and the accounts from my son of her adventure entering this world.
We were awakened at 6 a.m. here yesterday morning. They were at the hospital and she was in labor and while it would be awhile, we would have a grandchild at some point on the day. So began our Sunday, trying to be a normal Sunday while staying close to the phone. Having been through first babies, myself, I was guessing it would be after noon, here before she would arrive. I missed that estimation by only a few hours. The morning went fairly quickly as we had things to occupy us. But noon, in my mind was the end point. Noon passed and then 1:00 and 2:00. After 2:00 officially passed I was starting to become nervous. Kurt said to call Korey, but I didn't want to catch them in the middle of it all and I figured Korey's phone would be turned off anyway. So we waited and I began to find "put off" jobs to do. When I am nervous, I need to be involved in something so I went outside which always has things for me to do. I want to say I was nonchalant about it all and was an old hand at being a grandma now, but I wasn't and this one was so different. Just before 4:00 in the afternoon, my son called and our grand daugher was born. We had nothing more than her name, which I got wrong, the first time out, as she was pretty new and haven't even been weighed and measured yet. That would wait until the next phone call along with a picture of how gorgeous she was. I guess it was the big secret of grandparenthood. As long as all are healthy, everything else is gravy.
The tears came after when I saw her, and realized I wasn't there and she would look so different when I finally got to meet her in person, but they were happy tears and grateful tears, that all had been brought safely along in this world.
As my daughter, Annie, who has been "Baby Girl" for a good many years, since her aunt tagged her as such, and will probably always be my Baby Girl, there's a new one in our family and I and she will happily look forward to September and our meeting of her and every special thing she will bring to all of us.
Welcome to the World, Baby Girl....Grandma loves you and can't wait to meet you...
Monday, August 15, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Is it August already? Part II
Somehow July slipped by me. We had the Historical Society's annual ice cream social and the end of July saw us attending the Saginaw County Fair. We didn't have ice cream social's when I was a kid so for me those are relatively new experiences which knit the more senior of our community together. They come for the ice cream, scooped expertly by me, (at least I am getting better at it every year). They listen to a band comprised of mostly senior gentlemen but a couple of 30 somethings add a nice touch and I respect their committment to playing music that is old by my standards. This year I saw women I had gone to school with now sheperding their mothers to seats and laughing about how far we have come, or gone. We have now quite often become the parents to our parents, something we could not have imagined 10 years ago. But it is what life doesn't tell us. I am finding that in every stage of my life, I have arrived unprepared and I am constantly learning on the job and maybe that's the way it should be. It would be nice to have our visions of life at the end be close to what we expect, but surprises make us appreciate the good so much more. So the ice cream social was people getting together for a brief time to listen to music, to sweat, (it was a 90+ day), and eat ice cream and laugh about diets not being in the realm of a hot fudge sundae.
While my childhood run in's with ice cream were of the Merrill Whippy Dip and homemade variety, the County Fair was in my memory from my earliest recollections. I can't remember a time we didn't go, and it was always held in September, and quite often rain would drown out forays if we waited too long to go. It was magical the few times we went at night, the ferris wheel and bullet lit from all over the area. When we were old enough for 4-H we almost always went on the day the cooking entries had to be in. We got in free if we carried in a baked item for the Fair. For us the rides were the least of the Fair. The Fair was about caramel and candied apples, elephant ears and rock solid ice cream cones dipped in chocolate and then rolled in crushed peanuts. It was french fries in a cup right out of the hot oil and sprinkled with vinegar and generous dollops of ketchup. It was corn dogs and bags of popcorn, often given out free in the vendors buildings. We made a slow tour of the grounds, generally starting with the barns, as that's where the 4-H barn boys hung out. The 4-H kids who brought animals got 3 or 4 days off school to stay with their animals and it was as much a party as anything. After trying out our burgeoning flirting techniques on clueless boys we went to the other barns where draft horses so huge there back ends stuck far out into the isles and bulls so huge they needed pens all to themselves, and finally pigs so wide they seemed incapable of standing and lay on their sides letting an occasional grunt escape.
After the barns were thoroughly perused we would amble up the Midway deciding which rides we would go on when we finished doing everything else. We weren't all that courageous and the ferris wheel was enough to make us squeal for the rest of the day so it was saved until close to last. The vendors buildings were next after the 4-H building where we it seemed to extend forever and we knew so many of the names on exhibits and clothing and baking. We all had our 4-H projects and I just wanted to be old enough to have a camera and exhibit in the photography show. Somehow when I got to be that age, I had left 4-H behind and never entered the upper eschelons of high school 4-H projects.
The vendors buildings meant a stop at the first place that offered bags to store all the loot we could pick up on a couple of go throughs. There was the usual pamplets we picked up from everything to home building to insurance and weather tight windows. Yardsticks, pencils, rulers and frisbees were just a bit of the junk we picked up on our way. We came out laden with bags bulging and then had to decide on rides or carnival shows. The carnival shows, such as the bearded lady always seemed enticing, but our allowances wouldn't cover the shows and the rides and the rides usually won out. From the top of a ferris wheel, the world spread out before us and was magical. While the seats were stopped and patrons let off we would sit on that top seat for a brief minute and our breath would escape us at how we had left the world behind. The ordinary rural kid's life we all lived every day was suspended in the County Fair every year in September.
But as things go, they change. They grow or they stagnate. The Fair was losing patrons every year. Its down town venue became a place where no one wanted to be at night any longer. The 8 day fair seemed mired in rain half the time and it was becoming financially impossible to keep it going as it had. Many suggestions were made but the one that finally caught ground was the building of a new fairgrounds in Chesaning, the far south end of Saginaw County, and a smaller schedule would be put in place. It went from 8 days to 5 days and was changed from rainy September to late July or early August which was usually a dry period. Rural Chesaning was a good place to hold a County Fair. The parking was safe and abundant and there was space for growth. We don't go every year, but like to go every couple of years. Sadly what used to take us three or four hours now can be done in an hour. As with everything the size has shrunk. One building for 4-H exhibits and the collections exhibits which are all that remain of the "home" arts. A smaller building for livestock, horses, pigs and sheep share a building and chickens and rabbits share another small building. The Midway is scaled down but still seems "midway" sized. The food isn't the same, but then I'm not a kid any longer either.
The biggest draws seems to be the track which hosts demolition derbies, and big truck and auto races that filled the stands the evening we were there.
In these times, we hold onto those things that are the best of our childhood memories. They may in reality be just a memory but we can't quite give them up, and hope every time we go to catch lightning in a bottle, even though we may be reduced to a lightning bug in that bottle, and our memories will still be the best part of these events.
While it may not be quite what I remember, in these times of upheaval and nothing old is new anymore, in hundreds of venues all over the states, County Fairs still go on, and I hope always will...
While my childhood run in's with ice cream were of the Merrill Whippy Dip and homemade variety, the County Fair was in my memory from my earliest recollections. I can't remember a time we didn't go, and it was always held in September, and quite often rain would drown out forays if we waited too long to go. It was magical the few times we went at night, the ferris wheel and bullet lit from all over the area. When we were old enough for 4-H we almost always went on the day the cooking entries had to be in. We got in free if we carried in a baked item for the Fair. For us the rides were the least of the Fair. The Fair was about caramel and candied apples, elephant ears and rock solid ice cream cones dipped in chocolate and then rolled in crushed peanuts. It was french fries in a cup right out of the hot oil and sprinkled with vinegar and generous dollops of ketchup. It was corn dogs and bags of popcorn, often given out free in the vendors buildings. We made a slow tour of the grounds, generally starting with the barns, as that's where the 4-H barn boys hung out. The 4-H kids who brought animals got 3 or 4 days off school to stay with their animals and it was as much a party as anything. After trying out our burgeoning flirting techniques on clueless boys we went to the other barns where draft horses so huge there back ends stuck far out into the isles and bulls so huge they needed pens all to themselves, and finally pigs so wide they seemed incapable of standing and lay on their sides letting an occasional grunt escape.
After the barns were thoroughly perused we would amble up the Midway deciding which rides we would go on when we finished doing everything else. We weren't all that courageous and the ferris wheel was enough to make us squeal for the rest of the day so it was saved until close to last. The vendors buildings were next after the 4-H building where we it seemed to extend forever and we knew so many of the names on exhibits and clothing and baking. We all had our 4-H projects and I just wanted to be old enough to have a camera and exhibit in the photography show. Somehow when I got to be that age, I had left 4-H behind and never entered the upper eschelons of high school 4-H projects.
The vendors buildings meant a stop at the first place that offered bags to store all the loot we could pick up on a couple of go throughs. There was the usual pamplets we picked up from everything to home building to insurance and weather tight windows. Yardsticks, pencils, rulers and frisbees were just a bit of the junk we picked up on our way. We came out laden with bags bulging and then had to decide on rides or carnival shows. The carnival shows, such as the bearded lady always seemed enticing, but our allowances wouldn't cover the shows and the rides and the rides usually won out. From the top of a ferris wheel, the world spread out before us and was magical. While the seats were stopped and patrons let off we would sit on that top seat for a brief minute and our breath would escape us at how we had left the world behind. The ordinary rural kid's life we all lived every day was suspended in the County Fair every year in September.
But as things go, they change. They grow or they stagnate. The Fair was losing patrons every year. Its down town venue became a place where no one wanted to be at night any longer. The 8 day fair seemed mired in rain half the time and it was becoming financially impossible to keep it going as it had. Many suggestions were made but the one that finally caught ground was the building of a new fairgrounds in Chesaning, the far south end of Saginaw County, and a smaller schedule would be put in place. It went from 8 days to 5 days and was changed from rainy September to late July or early August which was usually a dry period. Rural Chesaning was a good place to hold a County Fair. The parking was safe and abundant and there was space for growth. We don't go every year, but like to go every couple of years. Sadly what used to take us three or four hours now can be done in an hour. As with everything the size has shrunk. One building for 4-H exhibits and the collections exhibits which are all that remain of the "home" arts. A smaller building for livestock, horses, pigs and sheep share a building and chickens and rabbits share another small building. The Midway is scaled down but still seems "midway" sized. The food isn't the same, but then I'm not a kid any longer either.
The biggest draws seems to be the track which hosts demolition derbies, and big truck and auto races that filled the stands the evening we were there.
In these times, we hold onto those things that are the best of our childhood memories. They may in reality be just a memory but we can't quite give them up, and hope every time we go to catch lightning in a bottle, even though we may be reduced to a lightning bug in that bottle, and our memories will still be the best part of these events.
While it may not be quite what I remember, in these times of upheaval and nothing old is new anymore, in hundreds of venues all over the states, County Fairs still go on, and I hope always will...
Is it August already?
What happened to July? It was here and it was hot and it was dry. We wanted rain, we needed rain, but we never got rain. We ran the AC because it was hot, and I railed against it. I got my watering routine down to a fine science. Lug hoses here, lug hoses there, lug hoses everywhere.
I helped work dogs at nights that weren't training days. I was the "bird boy" or bird dummy who threw the bird dummies. I read a couple of very good books, one suggested by a friend about mother/daughter relationships and when a special relationship is at a turning point does it survive. Though I knew what the ending would be, I still found the book satisfying as I can now look back on my relationship with my daughter, Annie, and know that we survived sometimes rocky days and nights, to a comfortable one in which she has become my friend as well as my daughter. Maybe we had to go through all the other stuff to get to that. Our relationship was different than my mom's and mine. She was always my mom but I knew even as a child she was my shield against any storm, and I trusted her with everything. There was little I didn't tell her even as a teenager and she knew after my first date with Kurt, he was the "One". After my marriage our relationship changed, and she went into that place called "life after the kids leave". We learn to do it, sometimes easily, but many times begrudgingly and sometimes we are terrified by a house without children. But for her, there was little leeway time between children leaving and grand babies appearing. My brother Kim and I kept her in grandchildren for almost a decade. She developed friends that weren't a part of our lives just as we developed friendships with others, over our own kids and their friends and friend's parents.
Somewhere along the way of my children leaving babyhood and becoming busy children and then more busy teens, I lost my mom for a bit. I didn't really lose her, but her solid place in my life was replaced by family; my family. She was always there but there were times where weeks went by where we weren't in constant contact. When my own children left home, I understood. It was a process and the last was the hardest to let go off into the world. Maybe I should have celebrated that jump to "me time", but it I felt alone and unmoored. I wasn't sure what my next role should be. Over time, I and Kurt carved a life for us that was ours alone. We figured out living alone. The boys brought home girlfriends. Some stayed, some didn't. Finally they each found "the One" and we had weddings and things to plan and a future once again. With these joyous events though came the loss of Dad. It hit us very hard as we had little preparation time for this and you go on auto pilot just trying to get through all the things that need to be done after. We crossed days off our calendars, and tried to make sure Mom was included, but we were silenced by her stoic attitude, and mostly we wanted to believe she was alright because she was the strong one in the family and we knew it. What I didn't anticipate, was the independence was a cover for how she and Dad had leaned on one another. We all hoped that spring would be the answer, but it wasn't. Its almost 5 years and we have all adapted but there is a point of reference missing for us all. I always thought that point of reference was my mother, but maybe it was our dad.
I guess I don't know how I would react were I in her shoes, and I hope I don't ever have to deal with it, but I likely will. I have seen the things I love about her and the things that I want to be different and maybe that's what being a parent is all about. I now see my very different daughter, coming to share things with me. We share more than just genes and some kind of blonde hair. I hope that's what its all about.
I have my mom's eyes, her mousy hair, and her need for quiet time to reflect. I have my dad's hands, his voice, and his nose. I have the love of surprises and the need to see new things from him. My mom's love of reading and my dad's head for math. My dad's flat feet, and his love of chocolate, her steadiness and my mom's love of baking. I hope someday that my own daughter and my sons will look at themselves and say we are our parents children and its a good thing.
I helped work dogs at nights that weren't training days. I was the "bird boy" or bird dummy who threw the bird dummies. I read a couple of very good books, one suggested by a friend about mother/daughter relationships and when a special relationship is at a turning point does it survive. Though I knew what the ending would be, I still found the book satisfying as I can now look back on my relationship with my daughter, Annie, and know that we survived sometimes rocky days and nights, to a comfortable one in which she has become my friend as well as my daughter. Maybe we had to go through all the other stuff to get to that. Our relationship was different than my mom's and mine. She was always my mom but I knew even as a child she was my shield against any storm, and I trusted her with everything. There was little I didn't tell her even as a teenager and she knew after my first date with Kurt, he was the "One". After my marriage our relationship changed, and she went into that place called "life after the kids leave". We learn to do it, sometimes easily, but many times begrudgingly and sometimes we are terrified by a house without children. But for her, there was little leeway time between children leaving and grand babies appearing. My brother Kim and I kept her in grandchildren for almost a decade. She developed friends that weren't a part of our lives just as we developed friendships with others, over our own kids and their friends and friend's parents.
Somewhere along the way of my children leaving babyhood and becoming busy children and then more busy teens, I lost my mom for a bit. I didn't really lose her, but her solid place in my life was replaced by family; my family. She was always there but there were times where weeks went by where we weren't in constant contact. When my own children left home, I understood. It was a process and the last was the hardest to let go off into the world. Maybe I should have celebrated that jump to "me time", but it I felt alone and unmoored. I wasn't sure what my next role should be. Over time, I and Kurt carved a life for us that was ours alone. We figured out living alone. The boys brought home girlfriends. Some stayed, some didn't. Finally they each found "the One" and we had weddings and things to plan and a future once again. With these joyous events though came the loss of Dad. It hit us very hard as we had little preparation time for this and you go on auto pilot just trying to get through all the things that need to be done after. We crossed days off our calendars, and tried to make sure Mom was included, but we were silenced by her stoic attitude, and mostly we wanted to believe she was alright because she was the strong one in the family and we knew it. What I didn't anticipate, was the independence was a cover for how she and Dad had leaned on one another. We all hoped that spring would be the answer, but it wasn't. Its almost 5 years and we have all adapted but there is a point of reference missing for us all. I always thought that point of reference was my mother, but maybe it was our dad.
I guess I don't know how I would react were I in her shoes, and I hope I don't ever have to deal with it, but I likely will. I have seen the things I love about her and the things that I want to be different and maybe that's what being a parent is all about. I now see my very different daughter, coming to share things with me. We share more than just genes and some kind of blonde hair. I hope that's what its all about.
I have my mom's eyes, her mousy hair, and her need for quiet time to reflect. I have my dad's hands, his voice, and his nose. I have the love of surprises and the need to see new things from him. My mom's love of reading and my dad's head for math. My dad's flat feet, and his love of chocolate, her steadiness and my mom's love of baking. I hope someday that my own daughter and my sons will look at themselves and say we are our parents children and its a good thing.
Friday, July 22, 2011
We're Having a Heat Dome
Its called a heat dome now. A heat wave with a domed presence that reaches far into the North and heads back down on each side. It was winding its way oh so slowly east. Yesterday the temps here hit 99 degrees. We've talked about it for days, the ballooning temps and the heat index, something unheard of when I was a child, we just knew it was hot. I think the weather people who have become national celebrities thanks to the Weather Channel, need something to talk about and saying triple digit heat indexes for as far North as the Dakotas is news.
The humidity was down yesterday even with the heat. It seemed more bearable than 80 degrees of high humidity, but it also meant that there was no moisture in the atmosphere and that meant no thunderstorms cropping up, slight as the chance of rain was with them, at least there was the chance. Monday's storm managed to drop two inches of rain on Midland over to an inch in Saginaw and even a half inch just north of Hemlock. We got a sprinkle, not even enough to wet down the dust that is coating everything now. I continue to water garden, a couple of hours everyday. If I did not the garden would look as sickly as does my lawn now which only six weeks ago was so green and watered by Nature so often, it was squishy when you walked across it. It was also cold, and we feared summer would never get here. I should have known so much better. Everything comes in its time and it took just one scene replayed on the noon news, showing the blizzards of last winter, to make me once again appreciate long days, and blessed green, and temps that allow me to wear shorts and a tank top...though I'm probably getting too old for the tank.
I am trying to remember what heat waves were when I was a child. That was long before air conditioning was standard in all but a few places. We had hot weather then as 90+ degree days were not unheard of then, in fact, there were probably more and we didn't attach the heat index to make it more clear just how hot it was. We knew how hot, "summer heat" was. But it didn't seem to deter or derail our plans. We still played outside, as we did every summer day. School was out and our parents expected us to be outside. We did early morning chores before it heated up and spent days reading under shade trees, playing board games under shade trees, and come evening, pick up games of baseball and touch football, and after dark, if our parents allowed, games of "Bloody Murder' and "Witch". We would wade in the creek which by then in only a few places would be anything more than a dried, mud pit. We would beg and cajole and somehow could usually talk one of our fathers into taking a carload or pick up truck bed full of kids to the St. Charles community pool to swim the afternoon away.
Going for a ride out in the further country with the windows all down seemed blissful and if we were up to Grandma and Grandpa's cottage on Sand Lake we would hustle through the hot sand to just sit in the water and we would come out in the evening's wrinkled and so tired we would often fall asleep in our still damp, bathing suits. No, hot summer days never seemed to phase us, even in August when the kitchen would be hot and damp with the canning season in full progress. It would smell of dill and vinegar and sweet peaches and the tang of tomatoes. Mothers, grandmas and aunts would sit in sweltering kitchens and fan themselves but look with pride at the bounty of summer standing on tables ready to head to root cellars and cool, dark places.
Spider webs formed magically everywhere and paper wasps became nuisances. The dogs seemed content to rest under the porch or the cool cement floor of the big barn. The haymow, so alluring during much of the rest of the year, was avoided as too hot and itchy, our only concession to the weather. We thought of school starting at some point but never really longed for it. We rode our bikes everywhere and had long conversations with friends in the shade of big maple trees. Summer was a time of community and the living was slowed and savored. We didn't have to hurry anywhere. Hurrying was for the winter and the chill that made you move to keep from freezing. It was for crisp fall days, running to catch a school bus. It was for jumping mud puddles and the melting snow in spring's first elusive promise. But summer was for just grabbing hold with arms outstretched, for laying on the lawn, looking at a star studded sky and marveling at how vast was the world and how magical. Anything was possible then.
I wish I could still reach my arms wide and pull it all in, and remember what it was to be hot in the summers of my youth. It was somehow better....I know that now.
The humidity was down yesterday even with the heat. It seemed more bearable than 80 degrees of high humidity, but it also meant that there was no moisture in the atmosphere and that meant no thunderstorms cropping up, slight as the chance of rain was with them, at least there was the chance. Monday's storm managed to drop two inches of rain on Midland over to an inch in Saginaw and even a half inch just north of Hemlock. We got a sprinkle, not even enough to wet down the dust that is coating everything now. I continue to water garden, a couple of hours everyday. If I did not the garden would look as sickly as does my lawn now which only six weeks ago was so green and watered by Nature so often, it was squishy when you walked across it. It was also cold, and we feared summer would never get here. I should have known so much better. Everything comes in its time and it took just one scene replayed on the noon news, showing the blizzards of last winter, to make me once again appreciate long days, and blessed green, and temps that allow me to wear shorts and a tank top...though I'm probably getting too old for the tank.
I am trying to remember what heat waves were when I was a child. That was long before air conditioning was standard in all but a few places. We had hot weather then as 90+ degree days were not unheard of then, in fact, there were probably more and we didn't attach the heat index to make it more clear just how hot it was. We knew how hot, "summer heat" was. But it didn't seem to deter or derail our plans. We still played outside, as we did every summer day. School was out and our parents expected us to be outside. We did early morning chores before it heated up and spent days reading under shade trees, playing board games under shade trees, and come evening, pick up games of baseball and touch football, and after dark, if our parents allowed, games of "Bloody Murder' and "Witch". We would wade in the creek which by then in only a few places would be anything more than a dried, mud pit. We would beg and cajole and somehow could usually talk one of our fathers into taking a carload or pick up truck bed full of kids to the St. Charles community pool to swim the afternoon away.
Going for a ride out in the further country with the windows all down seemed blissful and if we were up to Grandma and Grandpa's cottage on Sand Lake we would hustle through the hot sand to just sit in the water and we would come out in the evening's wrinkled and so tired we would often fall asleep in our still damp, bathing suits. No, hot summer days never seemed to phase us, even in August when the kitchen would be hot and damp with the canning season in full progress. It would smell of dill and vinegar and sweet peaches and the tang of tomatoes. Mothers, grandmas and aunts would sit in sweltering kitchens and fan themselves but look with pride at the bounty of summer standing on tables ready to head to root cellars and cool, dark places.
Spider webs formed magically everywhere and paper wasps became nuisances. The dogs seemed content to rest under the porch or the cool cement floor of the big barn. The haymow, so alluring during much of the rest of the year, was avoided as too hot and itchy, our only concession to the weather. We thought of school starting at some point but never really longed for it. We rode our bikes everywhere and had long conversations with friends in the shade of big maple trees. Summer was a time of community and the living was slowed and savored. We didn't have to hurry anywhere. Hurrying was for the winter and the chill that made you move to keep from freezing. It was for crisp fall days, running to catch a school bus. It was for jumping mud puddles and the melting snow in spring's first elusive promise. But summer was for just grabbing hold with arms outstretched, for laying on the lawn, looking at a star studded sky and marveling at how vast was the world and how magical. Anything was possible then.
I wish I could still reach my arms wide and pull it all in, and remember what it was to be hot in the summers of my youth. It was somehow better....I know that now.
Monday, July 18, 2011
What did we do before AC?
What did we all do before AC? That shortened term for air conditioning, we all seem to have to have to survive these days. Even with a cooler than usual start to the summer, which we felt entitled to rant about frequently, when a typical July heat spell erupts we are now complaining about having to turn on costly AC, but unwilling to go one more night with two fans running and finding little relief. What did we do?
We slept on screened in porches. A family may have had one fan and it was used in the parents room if at all at night. I remember being hot and restless as a kid but the days stretched on forever and the nights were star studded and short. We slowed down even as kids and found the coolest and shadiest spots and did things that required little energy. We were kids after all, and knew how to be lazy on long, hot summer days.
We went barefoot all summer long. I had three pair of shoes to get me through the year. A pair of tennis shoes and a pair of "good" shoes that the next year were converted to school shoes. A long summer of virtually no shoes, always meant a painful August Sunday in church with shoes that hurt my feet so much I would kick them off as soon as we sat down. Of course, now there are all kinds of "things" that kids can step on and contract from the ground so even in water, quite often some kind of footwear is worn. That's kind of sad, just as so many things we thought normal in the "old days" are now taboo. We miss something if we totally ignore the past, in favor of progess. Things are constantly changing but there is something to be said for the way things were. Some values need to be kept up generation to generation....
We attended a family reunion yesterday. My grandparents had held a big Laurenz family Christmas Eve get together for as long as I could remember. After Grandma passed away suddenly in March, 15 years ago now, those were discontinued until after Grandpa followed Grandma to heaven. Then the aunts, uncles and my parents decided they wanted to continue the tradition and so a Saturday before Christmas was set aside for us to get together. That evolved into going to the summer as some of the aunts and uncles felt it was easier to do this in the summer than in the winter. And we progressed to the Hemlock Park for this gathering. It took a few years for the date to become a good fit for most. It is mostly for those of us who live close to make the trip but every year we pick up some of the younger generation who make it to see relatives that may not be around much longer. For me, it is a chance to see cousins I will only see once a year and to catch up and promise to visit. It is a chance to slow down and enjoy just visiting. It is not long and involved, it just is. It was hot this year under the pavilion, but there were trees and shade. The kids ran and played and cooled off with buckets of ice soaked wash cloths, and the adults sat and talked and fanned themselves. It is pretty much the way, reunions in Michigan have gone on for generations, and something I treasure more and more.
We came home and turned on the AC, it is what we do now and an agreement I made if the temps went over 92 and weren't a one day thing. Likely, with more heat this week it will be on more than I want, but I hope I always realize there were times when we didn't know any better.....
We slept on screened in porches. A family may have had one fan and it was used in the parents room if at all at night. I remember being hot and restless as a kid but the days stretched on forever and the nights were star studded and short. We slowed down even as kids and found the coolest and shadiest spots and did things that required little energy. We were kids after all, and knew how to be lazy on long, hot summer days.
We went barefoot all summer long. I had three pair of shoes to get me through the year. A pair of tennis shoes and a pair of "good" shoes that the next year were converted to school shoes. A long summer of virtually no shoes, always meant a painful August Sunday in church with shoes that hurt my feet so much I would kick them off as soon as we sat down. Of course, now there are all kinds of "things" that kids can step on and contract from the ground so even in water, quite often some kind of footwear is worn. That's kind of sad, just as so many things we thought normal in the "old days" are now taboo. We miss something if we totally ignore the past, in favor of progess. Things are constantly changing but there is something to be said for the way things were. Some values need to be kept up generation to generation....
We attended a family reunion yesterday. My grandparents had held a big Laurenz family Christmas Eve get together for as long as I could remember. After Grandma passed away suddenly in March, 15 years ago now, those were discontinued until after Grandpa followed Grandma to heaven. Then the aunts, uncles and my parents decided they wanted to continue the tradition and so a Saturday before Christmas was set aside for us to get together. That evolved into going to the summer as some of the aunts and uncles felt it was easier to do this in the summer than in the winter. And we progressed to the Hemlock Park for this gathering. It took a few years for the date to become a good fit for most. It is mostly for those of us who live close to make the trip but every year we pick up some of the younger generation who make it to see relatives that may not be around much longer. For me, it is a chance to see cousins I will only see once a year and to catch up and promise to visit. It is a chance to slow down and enjoy just visiting. It is not long and involved, it just is. It was hot this year under the pavilion, but there were trees and shade. The kids ran and played and cooled off with buckets of ice soaked wash cloths, and the adults sat and talked and fanned themselves. It is pretty much the way, reunions in Michigan have gone on for generations, and something I treasure more and more.
We came home and turned on the AC, it is what we do now and an agreement I made if the temps went over 92 and weren't a one day thing. Likely, with more heat this week it will be on more than I want, but I hope I always realize there were times when we didn't know any better.....
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
When I was a Child
When I was a child, my favorite thing to do on summer days was lay in the grass and watch clouds float by. Lazy summer clouds they were and I would imagine shapes out of those clouds and just drift. My mind was as lazy as my body, but that was OK, it was summer, and summer was meant to be slowed and appreciated.
When did we lose that? When did I grow up and think if I had a day where I just sat in a hammock and watched the clouds, and it wasn't a vacation day that it was just wrong and I was not, somehow, contributing to society. When did that change?
When I was a kid, we had chores in summer, but nothing that took more than an hour on any given day, except for hoeing which could be as long as 3 hours, but was not an everyday or week experience. We had time for pick up baseball games, and roaming our creek flats, swatting mosquitoes and playing Bloody Murder of an evening, until our parents called us home. We played in the haymow even though it made us itchy and dirty, swinging from an old rope to a pile of straw on the floor. We made rafts every summer to float down the creek. For some reason, for some reason, heretofore not examined, the rafts never floated away once they were actually launched. Of course, even though we started a raft every summer, we seldom got to the point of actually launching them. Once my brother and I had learned the art of riding our two wheeled bikes, our country neighborhood was our oyster. He had his pick of a couple of houses down the road with boys. I had my next door neighbors, Betty and Marlene, sisters and I fell right smack dab between them in age. We were seldom apart from then on until high school. We remained friends but high school was where our future lives took ahold of us. I seldom see Marlene or Betty any longer. Jobs and lives took them away from here, though their parents still live close by. It saddens me, but its not of my doing so as many would say, it is what it is. The memories are good ones and that feeds my soul at times when life was so much simpler and uncomplicated.
When I was a child we had a small grocery store a half mile away on what we called, "Nelson Corner". It was where Nelson Road and Hemlock Road crossed and beside the store, there was a Methodist church across the road and our township hall, with a large stone monument on the front to the fallen servicemen of WWII from the area, its one note of distinction. Betty and Marlene's Uncle Reinhold's name was there, a source of pride and curiostiy for us. But it was cool to have your name forever embedded in stone in front of a prominent building.
The store, was a country store run by two of the sweetest people ever put on this earth. Mr and Mrs Wilsey were gems and even then we knew how lucky we kids were for them to own the store. The store had wood floors and floor to ceiling shelves on the side walls. The center shelves were were an adults head high. A cold water Coke machine was to your right when you walked in. Having a soda pop for us was a treat and I can still remember how even on the hottest summer days, the bottles would be icy cold and so refreshing. Next to the Coke machine was a freezer compartment that held ice cream and frozen treats. Popsicles were a nickel and creamsicles and drumsticks were a dime. Along that wall from the freezer to the back of the store where the counter was were the candy shelves. Penny candy and nickel candy bars, more candy than I ever saw even in the bigger grocery stores. It was always my delight. The counter in the back of the store was a large oak counter, sturdy through decades of use. A large old cash register sat on the counter. On the other end was the cold meats cooler, mostly luncheon meats, sliced to order and a cooler with milk and refrigerated dairy products. The middle aisles were stacked with canned goods and non perishable foods. Packaged cookies, Hostess cupcakes and twinkies, boxes of dry cereals, and bags of flour and sugar. The other side wall held the "gift" area. Virtually anything a person could need in the name of a small gift for child or adult could be found there. Paper and pens, ceramic pieces and all manner of small toys. Once when I was a teenager I helped Mrs Wilsey do New Year's inventory, in which everything had to be counted, every item in the store. There were things on the top shelves of the gift area that had layers of dust, denoting they had gone years with no one knowing they were there. It was a revelation to me, and one of my first aspirations as a child was to grow up and own a store just like Mr and Mrs. Wilsey. The fact, that they lived just a doorway away, behind the store proper made it even more fun. If no one was at the counter when we came in, you just yelled as the radio was generally going and they were in the kitchen in back. Big fans on the ceiling circulated air in the summer months. I remember the store most in the summer. Seldom did a day go by that we did not find an errand to run for our mom's by bike down to the Store. Even without an errand we often would congregate on the front porch beside the gas pumps, our bicycles flung down every which way and just talk. We viewed our world from our children's perspective on that country store's front porch. If I only had that place to go back to.
Aside from endless summers, my favorite time at the store was Halloween. We went trick or treating by car caravan as it was too far between neighbors to walk or ride bike at that time of year. We usually went with the Gustaras, one year my mom driving, the next Marlene and Betty's . We had grandparents houses to stop at and the neighborhood at large, but a definite stop was always at Wilsey's store. On Halloween we were allowed to take one of every penny candy in the store. It was a magnifiscent haul for kids who's treats consisted of alot of apples, popcorn balls and homemade cookies, all too often broken by the afore mentioned apples plopped on them. To get real candy was rare for us, and we thought we had died and gone to heaven. Oh for the feeling of unmitigated delight at a surprise so rare and so dependable today. I guess part of it went with the innocence of being a child, but how I wish I could get that country store and those wonderful people, long gone, back for just an hour...
When I was a child, we had baby calves and kittens in the haymow. The calves would have to be bucket fed and would lick you with big rough tongues. Kittens would do the same except that their tongues were much smaller and tickled. The Gustaras had baby chicks for a time and we cuddled and held them, loving their peeps and their soft down. We played "Barbie dolls" under a weeping willow in their back yard, or in the grainery bins at my house. We became adept at making doll furniture out of all kinds of things and it became furniture mostly through our imaginations.
When I was a child, holidays were special. Each one significant and a disruption to our daily lives that meant stupendous things were about to happen. Halloween was planned for weeks, at least our costumes were. Scrounged up and borrowed outfits, nothing store bought. Thanksgiving was a celebration of family and lots of food and cousins all getting together. Easter was baskets hidden away and finding them and never wanting to be the last one to find yours. I saw my first fireworks on a Fourth of July when I was 11 from the back of a pick up truck loaded up with kids watching in a hay field behind the VFW, and no fireworks I have seen since have been more wondrous and magical. Christmas was the ultimate holiday, as everyone was kind to everyone, children wanted to be good for Santa Claus to come, and there was JOY in the season. My birthday came a week before Christmas so I always considered that a very special gift. Whatever troubles there were in the world, and I know now, there were many, they seemed to be put aside for the Christmas season.
When I was a child Memorial Day came on the 30th of May. George Washington's birthday was February 22nd and Abraham Lincoln's was February 12th. Their birthday's were saluted. Valentines Day was celebrated with valentines bought at the drugstore and given to every child in the classroom. When I was a child Labor Day was a day of picnics before school started up again the next day. And when I was a child, the county fair was the end to our summer and the kick off to fall When I was a child every season was a reason to have fun and make do with whatever the weather threw at us.
When I was a child life was simpler, at least that is what I like to believe. We have so much more stimulation now and ways to educate even babies, but we do not take the time to just lay in the grass and stare up at the clouds and wonder.....
When did we lose that? When did I grow up and think if I had a day where I just sat in a hammock and watched the clouds, and it wasn't a vacation day that it was just wrong and I was not, somehow, contributing to society. When did that change?
When I was a kid, we had chores in summer, but nothing that took more than an hour on any given day, except for hoeing which could be as long as 3 hours, but was not an everyday or week experience. We had time for pick up baseball games, and roaming our creek flats, swatting mosquitoes and playing Bloody Murder of an evening, until our parents called us home. We played in the haymow even though it made us itchy and dirty, swinging from an old rope to a pile of straw on the floor. We made rafts every summer to float down the creek. For some reason, for some reason, heretofore not examined, the rafts never floated away once they were actually launched. Of course, even though we started a raft every summer, we seldom got to the point of actually launching them. Once my brother and I had learned the art of riding our two wheeled bikes, our country neighborhood was our oyster. He had his pick of a couple of houses down the road with boys. I had my next door neighbors, Betty and Marlene, sisters and I fell right smack dab between them in age. We were seldom apart from then on until high school. We remained friends but high school was where our future lives took ahold of us. I seldom see Marlene or Betty any longer. Jobs and lives took them away from here, though their parents still live close by. It saddens me, but its not of my doing so as many would say, it is what it is. The memories are good ones and that feeds my soul at times when life was so much simpler and uncomplicated.
When I was a child we had a small grocery store a half mile away on what we called, "Nelson Corner". It was where Nelson Road and Hemlock Road crossed and beside the store, there was a Methodist church across the road and our township hall, with a large stone monument on the front to the fallen servicemen of WWII from the area, its one note of distinction. Betty and Marlene's Uncle Reinhold's name was there, a source of pride and curiostiy for us. But it was cool to have your name forever embedded in stone in front of a prominent building.
The store, was a country store run by two of the sweetest people ever put on this earth. Mr and Mrs Wilsey were gems and even then we knew how lucky we kids were for them to own the store. The store had wood floors and floor to ceiling shelves on the side walls. The center shelves were were an adults head high. A cold water Coke machine was to your right when you walked in. Having a soda pop for us was a treat and I can still remember how even on the hottest summer days, the bottles would be icy cold and so refreshing. Next to the Coke machine was a freezer compartment that held ice cream and frozen treats. Popsicles were a nickel and creamsicles and drumsticks were a dime. Along that wall from the freezer to the back of the store where the counter was were the candy shelves. Penny candy and nickel candy bars, more candy than I ever saw even in the bigger grocery stores. It was always my delight. The counter in the back of the store was a large oak counter, sturdy through decades of use. A large old cash register sat on the counter. On the other end was the cold meats cooler, mostly luncheon meats, sliced to order and a cooler with milk and refrigerated dairy products. The middle aisles were stacked with canned goods and non perishable foods. Packaged cookies, Hostess cupcakes and twinkies, boxes of dry cereals, and bags of flour and sugar. The other side wall held the "gift" area. Virtually anything a person could need in the name of a small gift for child or adult could be found there. Paper and pens, ceramic pieces and all manner of small toys. Once when I was a teenager I helped Mrs Wilsey do New Year's inventory, in which everything had to be counted, every item in the store. There were things on the top shelves of the gift area that had layers of dust, denoting they had gone years with no one knowing they were there. It was a revelation to me, and one of my first aspirations as a child was to grow up and own a store just like Mr and Mrs. Wilsey. The fact, that they lived just a doorway away, behind the store proper made it even more fun. If no one was at the counter when we came in, you just yelled as the radio was generally going and they were in the kitchen in back. Big fans on the ceiling circulated air in the summer months. I remember the store most in the summer. Seldom did a day go by that we did not find an errand to run for our mom's by bike down to the Store. Even without an errand we often would congregate on the front porch beside the gas pumps, our bicycles flung down every which way and just talk. We viewed our world from our children's perspective on that country store's front porch. If I only had that place to go back to.
Aside from endless summers, my favorite time at the store was Halloween. We went trick or treating by car caravan as it was too far between neighbors to walk or ride bike at that time of year. We usually went with the Gustaras, one year my mom driving, the next Marlene and Betty's . We had grandparents houses to stop at and the neighborhood at large, but a definite stop was always at Wilsey's store. On Halloween we were allowed to take one of every penny candy in the store. It was a magnifiscent haul for kids who's treats consisted of alot of apples, popcorn balls and homemade cookies, all too often broken by the afore mentioned apples plopped on them. To get real candy was rare for us, and we thought we had died and gone to heaven. Oh for the feeling of unmitigated delight at a surprise so rare and so dependable today. I guess part of it went with the innocence of being a child, but how I wish I could get that country store and those wonderful people, long gone, back for just an hour...
When I was a child, we had baby calves and kittens in the haymow. The calves would have to be bucket fed and would lick you with big rough tongues. Kittens would do the same except that their tongues were much smaller and tickled. The Gustaras had baby chicks for a time and we cuddled and held them, loving their peeps and their soft down. We played "Barbie dolls" under a weeping willow in their back yard, or in the grainery bins at my house. We became adept at making doll furniture out of all kinds of things and it became furniture mostly through our imaginations.
When I was a child, holidays were special. Each one significant and a disruption to our daily lives that meant stupendous things were about to happen. Halloween was planned for weeks, at least our costumes were. Scrounged up and borrowed outfits, nothing store bought. Thanksgiving was a celebration of family and lots of food and cousins all getting together. Easter was baskets hidden away and finding them and never wanting to be the last one to find yours. I saw my first fireworks on a Fourth of July when I was 11 from the back of a pick up truck loaded up with kids watching in a hay field behind the VFW, and no fireworks I have seen since have been more wondrous and magical. Christmas was the ultimate holiday, as everyone was kind to everyone, children wanted to be good for Santa Claus to come, and there was JOY in the season. My birthday came a week before Christmas so I always considered that a very special gift. Whatever troubles there were in the world, and I know now, there were many, they seemed to be put aside for the Christmas season.
When I was a child Memorial Day came on the 30th of May. George Washington's birthday was February 22nd and Abraham Lincoln's was February 12th. Their birthday's were saluted. Valentines Day was celebrated with valentines bought at the drugstore and given to every child in the classroom. When I was a child Labor Day was a day of picnics before school started up again the next day. And when I was a child, the county fair was the end to our summer and the kick off to fall When I was a child every season was a reason to have fun and make do with whatever the weather threw at us.
When I was a child life was simpler, at least that is what I like to believe. We have so much more stimulation now and ways to educate even babies, but we do not take the time to just lay in the grass and stare up at the clouds and wonder.....
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Fireflies and Fireworks
When I started this blog, I had planned to write in it every day, or at the least every other day, or at the very least once a week. I had also planned to make this a lighthearted piece of writing full of memories and sanguine observations of a mature lady. But life somehow interfered and maybe that was never the great plan anyway, but things happened and I was anything but light of heart and in fact, my heart was heavy, and I couldn't talk about it, so it was easier not to visit here. I had many moments that I wanted to write, little things happening daily, bike ride moments when a thought would come crystal clear to me, or just doing something in the house or garden, but I wouldn't be near the keyboard and the moments would pass and the worries would creep back, and I couldn't put those into words here and nothing would be solved if I did, so I stayed away.
I have developed this love/hate relationship with holidays in recent years. Holidays I loved as a kid have been just a time to get through and holidays I didn't especially care for have become even harder just go through and get to the other side. But what's on the other side? Anymore, routine isn't all that comfortable and I'm feeling I don't want to rush life by just to get back to normal, because normal isn't the same and life is change. Confusing? It is to me.
But since the kids have gone and left behind Fourth of July's spent at ballparks for years, or at Mullet or Sand Lakes, this holiday seems to come down to sitting around the house, and perhaps finding a cookout to go to one day of a long weekend. It has come to symbolize all I dislike about Holidays, everyone else seeming to find a place to go, and I am here. Christmas has come to feel much the same way. Expectations that seldom live up to what we hope, too short a time with family traveling home, and the Reason for the Season, slipping away, despite my best intentions. Every holiday, I am envious of all those who seem to have some place to go and something to enjoy. I have the almost at times, unbearable urge to just want to get in the car and drive. How fast I have forgotten the traffic snarls that delayed Fourth of July returns from up North, with a car full of cranky children and crankier adults. Maybe if I just skipped the cranky kids, I wouldn't be cranky. I keep thinking I would like to give it a try.
But in the hardest of times which this seems to be, I find little nuggets of wonderful. Nuggets of wonderful are worth celebrating. If only I could hold onto that all of my days. So, church on a Sunday of a holiday weekend. While, a smaller non vacationing attendance, they were smiling and wishing us well. We were enjoined to remember our military and the reasons our freedom was won and remains today. It was a good thing to remember. We did the mundane of grocery shopping after church, but ran into people we knew and realized once again, not everyone goes away and that there are many who simply can't. Its a humbling thought.
I'd like to say the day got better, and that it was a day of enlightenments but it wasn't , and as I sit here and write, its OK that it wasn't, because sometimes we learn more from the mistakes or the days that aren't quite right. We had sunshine today and a good summer day. In fact, nearly a perfect summer day here, and one that I will try to hold close come the cold of winter. A long bike ride in the quiet and cool of sundown, showed me that people all around were doing un-holiday things like mow the lawn, and work in their gardens. I wasn't alone, in fact, I wasn't even unique. Comforting in a strange way, and a good way to kick me out of my pity party.
The day ended with a display of fireworks in Saginaw. While I got more noise than actual color displays, the fireflies came out and gave me once again their magic. No matter how long I live or how far I go, I hope the delight I take in the magic of fireflies will never leave me. They flitted among the flowers as the sun sank and I am at peace once again. And maybe, just maybe I can be all those things I thought I would be with this blog.
I have developed this love/hate relationship with holidays in recent years. Holidays I loved as a kid have been just a time to get through and holidays I didn't especially care for have become even harder just go through and get to the other side. But what's on the other side? Anymore, routine isn't all that comfortable and I'm feeling I don't want to rush life by just to get back to normal, because normal isn't the same and life is change. Confusing? It is to me.
But since the kids have gone and left behind Fourth of July's spent at ballparks for years, or at Mullet or Sand Lakes, this holiday seems to come down to sitting around the house, and perhaps finding a cookout to go to one day of a long weekend. It has come to symbolize all I dislike about Holidays, everyone else seeming to find a place to go, and I am here. Christmas has come to feel much the same way. Expectations that seldom live up to what we hope, too short a time with family traveling home, and the Reason for the Season, slipping away, despite my best intentions. Every holiday, I am envious of all those who seem to have some place to go and something to enjoy. I have the almost at times, unbearable urge to just want to get in the car and drive. How fast I have forgotten the traffic snarls that delayed Fourth of July returns from up North, with a car full of cranky children and crankier adults. Maybe if I just skipped the cranky kids, I wouldn't be cranky. I keep thinking I would like to give it a try.
But in the hardest of times which this seems to be, I find little nuggets of wonderful. Nuggets of wonderful are worth celebrating. If only I could hold onto that all of my days. So, church on a Sunday of a holiday weekend. While, a smaller non vacationing attendance, they were smiling and wishing us well. We were enjoined to remember our military and the reasons our freedom was won and remains today. It was a good thing to remember. We did the mundane of grocery shopping after church, but ran into people we knew and realized once again, not everyone goes away and that there are many who simply can't. Its a humbling thought.
I'd like to say the day got better, and that it was a day of enlightenments but it wasn't , and as I sit here and write, its OK that it wasn't, because sometimes we learn more from the mistakes or the days that aren't quite right. We had sunshine today and a good summer day. In fact, nearly a perfect summer day here, and one that I will try to hold close come the cold of winter. A long bike ride in the quiet and cool of sundown, showed me that people all around were doing un-holiday things like mow the lawn, and work in their gardens. I wasn't alone, in fact, I wasn't even unique. Comforting in a strange way, and a good way to kick me out of my pity party.
The day ended with a display of fireworks in Saginaw. While I got more noise than actual color displays, the fireflies came out and gave me once again their magic. No matter how long I live or how far I go, I hope the delight I take in the magic of fireflies will never leave me. They flitted among the flowers as the sun sank and I am at peace once again. And maybe, just maybe I can be all those things I thought I would be with this blog.
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