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Computer (Gee Whiz) Kid

Our teacher said, “Computers are an up-and-coming technology. Many of you may be working with them in the future, depending on what jobs you have.” After pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, he continued on, “Right now computers are large and have limited functions. I heard of one at a college that’s as big as this room. In the future they’ll get smaller and be more useful.”

My mind was drifting during this lecture on future careers. Graduation day was in two weeks! Below the open classroom windows, I heard a lawn mower start up. Soon the scent of fresh-cut grass floated in on a breeze. The familiar smell reminded me of my happy, uncomplicated childhood. Feeling panicky, I thought, “I’m not ready to be an adult yet!” Continue reading

Land of the Brave

My daughter Niki surprised me the first time she told me her summer plans. I popped the cap off a bottle of apple ale and divided the contents between two wine glasses. Handing her one of the bubbly, sweet drinks, I asked while thinking that surely I had misunderstood, “What did you just say you wanted to do this summer?

Shifting Blaise, her one-year-old son on her lap, she accepted the glass and took a sip. She said, “Mmmm! Yummy. For our summer vacation, I want to take the children to visit a family Mike and I knew before they moved to Colorado.”

That was exactly what I had thought she’d said. The logistics of a widowed mother with eight children accomplishing the trip filled me with a mixture of dismay, worry and admiration. I questioned, “When do you want to do this?”

Niki said, “I want to fit our vacation between planting my garden and the boys and girls summer camps in July. I’m thinking we’ll start out on Father’s Day.”

“How long will you be gone?” I asked.

My daughter calmly said, “I hope to be back by Jon’s fifteenth birthday on June 29th.

After Niki and her family had gone home that evening, I wondered if as a young woman, I had ever been brave enough to do what she planned. Arnie and I had driven to Tennessee, South Dakota and other states, but we were always together and only had two daughters in the back seat.

A few weeks before the start of Niki’s planned vacation she said, “One thing worries me about the trip. If the van breaks down when I’m several states away, what will I do?”

I nodded and said, “I feel helpless when my vehicle has problems, but since I seldom drive far from home, I know people and places to call. Maybe you should enroll in the American Automobile Association. They have an emergency number that you can call for quick help, no matter where you are.”

A week before the start of Niki’s family vacation she added, “Jon wants a friend to come with us, so I will have nine passengers.

I said, “Your van will be jammed with luggage and kids.”

My daughter mused, “I wish I had shelves in the back of the van. We stack everything on top of other things and when you need something from the bottom, you upset the order. I’m bringing a lot of food. With this many people, it would be too expensive to eat every meal at a restaurant. Besides, the children are always hungry onean hour after we eat a meal.”

I said, “I suppose it is too late to have shelves put in. Maybe you could stack all the food on one side and the bags with clothing on the other side.”

Nodding, Niki said, “I’ve thought of another way to lighten the load. We will pack only enough clothing for half the trip. When we get to Colorado, we can launder what we’ve worn to be good to go for our trip back home.”

Right on schedule, Niki and the nine children left Wisconsin on Father’s Day afternoon. Since then I’ve been traveling along vicariously through her texts and pictures. Their first stop was in the Twin Cities where they visited the Minnehaha water fall and spent the night with the children’s Aunt Tami.

The children looked uncomfortably hot in the picture Niki sent from the Badlands, then wet and laughing at a fountain somewhere else. They visited the famous Wall Drugstore in South Dakota, Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse Mountain.

Arnie and I had visited South Dakota with Niki and Tami in 1990. We had enjoyed that trip very much, but it felt good to return home to rest. When Niki called me from Cheyenne, Wyoming, she said they were having a good time, but it was the end of a long day and I thought she sounded a little tired. In the background I heard Gemma crying and calling for her.

I asked, “Niki, are you going to need a vacation after you get home from your vacation?” Niki didn’t have to answer me. I resolved right then, that I’d take all the children for a day so my brave daughter could rest when they returned home.

 

 

 

Lucky

Anne leaned forward over the minute kitten in her lap. She was trying to get it to open its mouth to suckle on the nipple of a doll-sized bottle. A silky curtain of her blond hair slid forward, obscuring my view. After a moment, my sixteen-year-old granddaughter leaned back and I saw the small calico kitten that she cradled avidly sucking on the nipple.

I asked, “Have you given the kitten a name yet?”

My granddaughter’s blue eyes glanced up at me as she answered, “Ah…no, not yet. We just call it, Baby Kitty.”

I thought, “It’s just as well that they not name it right away. The chance of this small feline surviving is very slim.” Nodding approval, I said to her, “When you do name it, think about ‘Lucky’.” Continue reading

Undeniable

Leaning forward I quietly asked my daughter, “Do you remember the first time you lied and knew you were lying?”

Niki shrugged and said, “No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do.” I confessed. “I was in second grade and I hated the baggy brown stockings I had to wear to school. They wrinkled around my ankles and looked terrible. The stockings I wore to church on Sunday mornings were white and not at all saggy…probably because they were worn only one day of the week, whereas the brown stockings were continuously washed and worn. Both required a garter belt to hold them up.”

Amused by my tale, Niki asked, “How did wearing saggy socks cause you to lie?”

“Pride.” I said with a sad shake of my head. “One evening after school I told Mom that my teacher, Sister Mary Michaeleen, wanted all of the girls in the class to start wearing their white stockings to school.”

Chuckling, my daughter said, “Did Grammie fall for that lie?”

I said, “Of course not. I’m the youngest of seven children. She had four other girls before me and hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck. What I wanted and why was entirely transparent.” Continue reading

Fifty Years Too Soon

I took my old recipe box out of the cupboard and began rifling through the cards. My daughter Tammie said, “Mom, what are you looking for?”

Without looking up, I answered, “There’s an old recipe for spiced carrots in here. It would go well with our meal tonight if I could just find it.”

“Oh!” My daughter exclaimed excitedly, “I was in Pinterest the other night and I saw a fantastic carrot recipe.” Whipping out her smart phone, she asked, “How about I pull that recipe up for you?”

Surprised, I looked up at her to ask, “What in the world is Pinterest?”

Tammie explained, “It’s a website on the Internet. It’s like a bulletin board where you can pin pictures and information about crafts, cooking, sewing or anything else of interest. I like visiting this site to find ideas for crafts. The ideas I like or try, I pin on my personal Pinterest board. Other people on the Internet can see what I have on my board. If they like the type of things I post, they can ‘follow’ me by copying ideas from me.” Continue reading

Olive Belly

My family’s black and white tuxedo cat plopped down in the center of the kitchen floor. He sprawled out to his full, magnificent length, strategically between the stove, refrigerator and sink. In a hurry to cook supper and serve it to my hungry children and husband, I looked down at him and questioned, “Flicker…really? Why did you choose this place to stretch out? You know I’m going to accidentally step on you one of these days or else trip and fall over you!”

The beautiful black and white cat looked up at me with love in his large expressive golden eyes, slowly blinking in his adoration. Benevolent love radiated out from the tip of each well defined white whisker on his black muzzle. He rolled over a little more to expose his belly. Unable to resist, I leaned down and pet the soft expanse of his white underside. He purred loudly. My daughter Tammie said, “Cats show their bellies to people they love and trust.” Continue reading

Stuff

I pulled the hoop building door open and peeked into my garden. With pleasure I admired a row of blooming yellow and purple violas.  My chrysanthemums had survived the winter; all six plants were bravely pushing up mounds of fresh green shoots. Even the yellow tea rose bush was fully covered with new leaves. Wishing I could till the garden and get it ready for planting, I backed away and shut the door.

I thought, “Before I can take care of the garden, I need to clean out my childhood home.” I had just moved my two elderly bachelor brothers into an assisted living home. The farmhouse was sold and my brothers were depending on me to sort though and manage their belongings. Continue reading

Blessed

Damp, gray tree trunks stood out in stark contrast to the brown, winter-dead lawn. The bleakness of the cloudless spring day made me sigh wearily. Rolling to a stop at the end of the driveway, I looked both ways to check for cars before pulling out onto the road, thinking, “Early spring is depressing. Everything bad that has ever happened to me…has happened at this time of the year!”

Recurrent clinical depression had plagued my early years. Flare-ups happened more often in the spring. Doing a mental check-up, I questioned, “Is this just a down day, or the start of my going off track?” Shaking my head, I thought about Christy, my first baby who was born in early February and died two months later. My Mom and Dad both died in the springtime. Then nine years ago my husband Arnie died unexpectedly on the anniversary of Christy’s death. He was only 56 years old.

Last April my 42 year-old son-in-law died when a deer crashed through the windshield of his van as he was driving my daughter to the hospital to have their eighth child. Never expecting to share widowhood experiences with my daughter so early in her life, I’m still reeling from the randomness of this horrible loss. Niki and Mike’s children are all two years apart, newborn to age fifteen. At least when Arnie died, our children were grown and on their own.     Continue reading

Feral Heaven

When I spotted her car pulling into the driveway, I ran out onto the deck. The minute my daughter got out of the car, I gave her a big hug. She said, “Mama, it’s good to be home.”

A warm spring breeze softly swirled around us like a caress. Giving her another squeeze, I said, “Tammie, it’s good to have you home. Isn’t this a beautiful day? How would you like to go for a walk around the yard? The flowerbeds are waking up. I have daffodils that are about to bloom.”

Golden afternoon sunshine smiled down on us as we walked around arm-in-arm, inspecting bulbs and bushes. The lilac flowers were still in bud stage, right on the brink of bursting forth into a fragrant lavender flood. Glancing at the old red barn next to the lilac bushes, Tami said, “I love the barn, but it’s getting really shabby.” Continue reading

Good Friday’s Fish

Pale light was filtering into my bedroom when I awoke. My first thought was to wonder whether my big brother, Casper, had returned home.” Sliding out of bed, I padded over to the bedroom window and pulled the curtain aside. His car was parked in its usual place in the farmyard driveway below my window. In bare tree branches near the house, several small birds twittered and trilled their spring-time joy.

Only a few small patches of dirty snow still dotted the yard. Yesterday I’d helped Daddy make shallow trenches in the driveway to help hasten drainage from the lawn around our house. Although it was still early morning, they were already filled with water. I smiled, Easter would be warm this year and I could wear my lavender coat and flowered hat to church.

No one was in the kitchen. I grabbed a slice of bread and buttered it. Hearing voices in the basement, I slowly crept down the steps, munching on the bread. Mom and Casper were working at the sink, gutting and washing small fish that were only three to four inches long. Next to them was a large milk-can nearly full with more fish. Continue reading