Kids and Their Funny Ideas

There was a huge catholic church - Precious Blood - about 1/2 mile from our home in Detroit. We saw priests and nuns walking around all the time. Nuns back then wore long black robes with black head gear trimmed in white. The only thing yo could see on them was their faces and hands. They also had some cool looking beads hanging on their robes. Whenever we saw them, there were at least two of them together. I always smiled at them and said, "Hi". They always smiled back and answered, "Hi".
One day I went home and told my mom I wanted to be a nun when I grew up. Looking back, the look on her face was quite amusing. Her mouth dropped open,her eyes bulged out and she asked (rather loudly) "Why?!?"
I was surprised at her reaction. "Because the girls all sleep together like a pajama party and I like their dresses. They smile all the time, too."
I got a lecture on the benefits of Mormonism and lack of benefits of becoming a nun.
A couple of weeks before Christmas, Ashley (Chris's daughter) announced that she wanted to be Jewish. Her mom's face, I imagine, was much like my mom's when I announced my intentions of becoming a nun. When asked why, Ashley said because they get a present everyday for eight days during Hanukkah, whereas we only get presents for one day on Christmas.
I have to say, her argument was a bit more pragmatic than mine was.

My First Bike

My older brother, Dennis, loved to build model cars and airplanes. He had them on strings hanging room his ceiling and on shelves all oer his bedroom. He had a friend, Guy, who loved Dennis's cars. So Dennis traded a few of his cars for a bike Guy had. It was for me.
I never had a bike before, I was only five years old. It was an old beat up blue boy's bicycle. The cross bar in the front had been welded on - which meant that it had been a girl's bike originally. There were no training wheels, either.
I remember my brother's running behind the bicycle while I rode around the yard. They held the back of the bike so I didn't fall over. Then came the moment when they thought I could go solo.
Our neighbor's driveway was long and straight. It was also dirt. My two brother's stood at the mouth of the driveway and helped me get going. Then they cheered me on. I rode straight and true all by myself to the cheers of my brothers.
It was wonderful until I realized that I didn't know how to stop. With the crossbar in the front, I couldn't just jump down off the seat. I crashed and burned near our neighbor's house. I remember my brother's running to get me and taking me and my wonderful bike back to our house to get mended.
I overheard my mom and brother's talking about my bike. Apparently someone in Guy's neighborhood had her blue bike stolen. Amazingly, the blue bike I got was right after the theft and the crossbar had recently been welded on. Hmmmmmmm. The only thing Guy wanted for that bike was a couple of Dennis's models. We were all left thinking that I had a 'hot' bike.
I don't remember having the bike when we moved from Battle Creek to Warren. But I will always my little blue bike.

We had quite a crowd at Bruce's dad's house. Chris had his kids, Rob had his kids and we had our kids there. The only ones missing were Steve's wife and daughter. Julia had the flu in Germany. There were dolls, trains, ninja toys, stuffed animals, bakugans and more every where. There was a lot of laughter and hugging, too.

Christmas Eve

Kaylee loves her Great Grandpa Hamlin. She took her stuffed dogs to grandpa and shared.

Holiday Cheer

Bruce only worked a couple of hours on Friday, the 18th of December. He came home, we loaded the car and left to visit Rob, Sara, Raef, Brady and Kaylee. We stopped at Panera Bread for a wonderful sandwich and had an uneventful trip to Allegan. We decided to stay at a hotel, so we got a lovely room where we went to unload before we went to Rob's.
We had such a great time. After hugs and kisses from everyone, we went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. After dinner Bruce, Rob and the boys went home and Sara and I went shopping.
The next day Bruce and I slept in then bought pizza's to take to the kids. There was a lot of laughter and good times. Rob and I watched the hockey game, then Sara and I went to the store, bought some snacks and rented some movies. We all relaxed after the kids went to bed and enjoyed each others company and watched movies.
Sunday we slept in again (LOVE it), picked up some chicken and went to
Rob's to wait for them to come home from church. What a beautiful little family. We had to be come by 6 that night, so we left at 2 to give us a little time. Detroit driving is always unpredictable.
Raef is so smart. He loves animals. He reads books about them, looks them up on the Internet and watches movies about them. I would never challenge his knowledge avout animals. He even knew what end of a caribou gets eaten first by the big cats and why.
Brady is quiet with this delightful sense of humor. He is a handsome, handsome little boy. If he disagrees, he quietly expresses his opinion and you can't change it!
Kaylee. That little girl is a firecracker. Her smile is infectious. Bruce was laying on the couch while Sara and I made cookies and Rob was with the boys. He was woken up by a little voice that said, "What you doin'?" from about 6 inches in front of his face. He said he was taking a nap. "Why?" " 'Cause I'm tired." "Why?" He knew it was time to get up.
It was so hard to leave.
Then Monday Bruce and I went to Fowlerville to meet up with my mom and dad, June and her kids. I sat next to my dad and across from my mom. I don't know why I am so blessed to have both of my parents still with me and still the best. The waitress almost hit Daddy in the head with a tray. I said something to her so she wouldn't hit him, so she apologized then kissed Daddy's forehead. I swear he blushed!
After we were done eating, we had a great surprise. In walked Santa and Mrs. Claus. The wait staff all had pictures taken with them, then June and I went over with her kids. I took pics. I didn't want my picture taken (cognitive dissonance), but Santa insisted I sit on his lap. Then we talked Mom into sitting on Santa's lap and taking a pic with him. We all laughed. Daddy got a kiss from a waitress and Mom sat on Santa's lap.
So far it has been an incredible Christmas.

Neighborhood Kids

When I was about 13 years old there was a 'turf war' of sorts among the kids on my neighborhood. My dad would not let me hang out with Lori, the girl next door. She was a mean little girl. She was the leader of the kids who teased my sister, Sandy, put the mud and nails in our little pool and whipped me with a rope.
However, Lori's family had money and lots of cool toys, so the kids were drawn to her. I was invited to go to the library with them, but my father said no. I have to say I was disappointed. I wanted all my old friends back.
About a week after the kids went to the library, my dad called me to talk with him. He had heard around the neighborhood that the girls who had gone to the library had stopped to buy hamburgers at Big Boy. Then they all went to Federal's department store. They took out the mustard packs they had gotten at Big Boy's and squirted mustard all over the fur coats!
Security caught that little group and called the cops. The cops called the parents and the parents had to pay restitution for the ruined fur coats. I don't remember the amount, but I do remember it was huge.
My dad then let me know that if I had been with the girls, my parents would have had to pay restitution, too. I told him that I would never have done anything so horrible. He then pointed out that if I were with the girls I would have been guilty by association. That shook me up.
It wasn't long after that my friends came back around and everything was like it was before the 'turf war'.

Pets

This morning on the news there was a question: do cats or dogs make better pets? How silly for the news! Well, I thought about it and decided I like both.
Our three cats have such differing personalities. Tigger is a sociopath, Ozzie has Downs Syndrome and Donny is A.D.H.D. Tigger goes out and kills and eats field mice, shrews or anything else that moves. He shows off the tragedy he has perpetrated, yet feels no shame. He comes in the house and lets us know that we are there to make him happy. His needs come first.
Ozzie - sweet Ozzie - just wants to sit on my lap. All day. All night. My left thigh on the top has a lot of little puncture marks where he has dug his claws in to help him launch when he gets down. We can't let him outside because he literally cannot find his way home (Twice we had to search the neighborhood for him!). He's such a sweetheart and you just want to protect him and his bright blue eyes.
Then there's Donny. You can just about see his little brain switching gears..."FOOD! I need to get to the foo...wait! What's that? It's a shiny paper! I'll just swat it...is that the dog's tail wagging? Oh hoo! I can catch it. What's up there? FOOD!; etc., etc., etc." And this goes on all day until he needs a nap. He looks for poor Ozzie and lays down with him to snuggle - then to bite and wrestle until Ozzie gets fed up and leaves. It's now Donny's spot.
And the dog? She's French. She's little miss foo foo. She's a sweetheart. She loves to cuddle and give kisses. But she hates the UPS man. Hates him! She'd like a piece of him! Until he turns around, then she runs back to the house. Her spot at night is in between Bruce and I. I don't know if I could sleep if I didn't have 4 little feet in the middle of my back.
All 4 of our critters are a blast to watch. I wouldn't give up any of them. (I just wish Tigger would take his dead mice to the neighbors house.)

My Neighborhood Watch

We had lived here less than a year when I noticed a strange car parked on the side in front of my house. I was in the study working on the computer. No one else was home. We live on a cul-de-sac so there is no through traffic. I knew what my neighbors drove and what their basic habits were. I had never seen the three men in that car before. I watched them on and off for a little while then I saw the man in the passenger seat open the door, lean outside of the car but still hidden behind the door then sit up and shake his head and breath deep through his nose. O.K. I needed to keep my eye on these guys. I couldn't find any of our binoculars anywhere, but I saw Bruce's rifle with a scope leaning against the wall. It worked as well, if not better, than binoculars.
I got so nervous that I called the police. At first the dispatcher tried to poo-poo me off by saying that there was a lot of housing construction in the area and they were probably workers on a lunch break. They weren't working anything. She asked if I could get the license plate number. Ha! Through my handy dandy rifle scope I could tell her how many dead flies were on that plate. It takes talent to hold a rifle in one hand, look through the scope while talking on the phone. Not many Grandma's can do that. I gave her the number and she said she was sending a cruiser over.
I kept an eye on the car and called Bruce at work. I was seriously worried that the guys were doing drugs and would break into the houses in my neighborhood. As I was talking to Bruce, not one but three cruisers came into our little cul-de-sac and boxed the car in. They got the guys out of the car, cuffed them and put them in separate police cruisers. The police opened the trunk and pulled out several car radios, speakers, other stuff and a gun. A GUN.
I was giving a blow-by-blow accounting to Bruce when I realized I may be putting my own life in danger. I was looking out my window through a rifle scope!!!! Attached to a rifle!!!! At cops!!!!!
I put the rifle down and tried to follow the action with just my eyes. It was almost over anyway. The cops took each guy away in the separate cruisers.

I never took driver's training classes. When I was 16 we moved from Detroit where I would have taken driver's training and then we moved out to the country where we lived too far for my folks to drive me to classes everyday. However, I was allowed to drive the car to my grandmothers once in a great while. Their house was about a mile away. AND I had to follow my dad while he drove the tractor. We went at least 5 miles an hour.
The tractor didn't have any lights. In the country when it got dark - it was dark. We didn't have streetlights, either. SO, Daddy would get done working Uncle Ronnie's fields around dusk and he needed someone to provide light so he didn't drive off the side of the road. He also needed a ride home.
One night Daddy stopped at our house to let Mom know he needed her to follow him with the car. I begged mom to let me drive. I had done it before. She relented so I grabbed the keys and headed into the garage. There was something parked close to the car, so I had to manipulate the car around it so I wouldn't hit it. I guess I did a little too much manipulating and actually had the car sideways in the garage (a feat not many people could do!). Mom poked her head into the garage to see what was taking me so long. She had this horrified look on her face, said something to the affect that I was on my own and went back into the house - closing the door firmly after her.
It took a bit of skillful driving back and forth, back and forth, but I got the car out of the garage and caught up to my dad on the tractor.
To this day - 40 years later - my mother is still amazed at my ability to get the car sideways in our garage. However, she never talks about the skill that it took to get me out of the garage. Go figure.

George

After Bruce and I had dated for a little over a month, we decided to meet the parents. I've already relayed the story of Bruce meeting my folks and the unfortunate 'fudge to the forehead' display.
Now I had to meet Bruce's folks. His parents were divorced. His mom lived in California but his father lived in Athens, MI. Bruce and his dad did not get along very well at that time. (Over the years Bruce has realized just how wonderful his father truly is.) George was married to a tiny woman with exploding energy named Laura. She was a kisser and a hugger. George was a "Don't even think about it!" kind of guy.
I remember George sitting in his chair and not saying much and Laura 'talking, talking'. I was so frightened. I didn't know what to expect. The visit was mercifully short.
Their house was a really nice home that they had bought when they were first married. When they bought it, it had a kitchen, bedroom and a small living room. No bathroom. When I saw it, George and Laura had converted their little 'shack' into a large lovely home. Laura was a very neat person. She would not tolerate any dirt in her house. Her kitchen was large and organized.
I was so worried that I would not be good enough, but it worked out well - after 38 years, even.

Rob

The morning came when we had to take Robert to the airport so he could leave on his mission. He had been called to serve in the Carlsbad, California mission. He had to go to the Missionary Training Center in Provo for a short time, then on to California.
He had never travelled alone before. He was only 19 years old and the last of my brood to leave home. We had been preparing for this very moment for months - shopping, Dr. visits, dental visits, etc.
This was before the terror attack on 9/11, but security had started to tighten anyway. The airport was packed. We waited with Rob for his ticket and check in. We walked with him as far as security would let us go. Beyond the place where we had to part was a sea of people.
Bruce hugged Rob, then I did. We had to let him go. My feelings were so conflicted. I knew he needed to complete his mission for God, but he was my baby. And I couldn't even go see him off onto the plane.
He finally turned from us to go to his gate. We watched until we couldn't see him anymore. Tears were slipping down my face. We walked to a window and watched a few airplanes take off.
I remember praying. I thanked God for sending me Rob and letting him be in my care for 19 years. Then I begged Him to watch over my son - who is also God's son. My last request was that Rob would come home to me.
I didn't know it was able to feel so empty and so full at the same time.

Vicky called me one afternoon and asked me if I'd like to be involved in a project she was thinking about. Not one to let an opportunity slide I said sure. There was a girl in our ward who didn't fit in very well. Vicky thought if we 'kidnapped' this girl and took her with us to toilet paper some houses with a few other girls, she'd have something to share with them plus have a blast.
We had Jennifer, the girl, her sister, my daughter, Vicky and myself. I had a full size van, so I drove. One of the houses Vicky picked was in the boonies. The road was dirt and the house set back a long way from the road. The six of us, armed with as much T.P. as we could carry, snuck up on that house. Once my daughter was in front of us and pushed a small tree branch out of her way - which snapped back and hit me right in the face. We were all laughing so hard!
We also T.P.'d another house. This house belonged to a family of 5 kids. One of them was my son, Chris's, girlfriend. We were all friends so we knew no one would get upset by the 'snow fall' in their trees and grass.
The next Sunday our victims had figured out who had T.P.'d them - except for my daughter and me. This took them a couple of weeks to ferret out. Finally they nailed us! They threatened revenge.
We had this beautiful dog named Rambo at the time. He was pitch black and very protective of his family. We warned everyone not to come sneaking up in or yard because Rambo would have them for a snack.
Not long after that Bruce and I were woken up by Rambo barking - once. That's it, just one loud bark. We went back to sleep thinking if anything was wrong he'd keep barking. We woke up the next morning to a white yard. It looked like it had snowed an inch of toilet paper. We laughed so hard! Our dire warnings about our 'guard dog' went unheeded and definitely unfounded.
When we went to church next Sunday, one of the families that we had attacked first came up to us and enjoyed their get-back. They were worried about the dog, so they had their oldest son on top of their mini-van with bags of toilet paper while the mom drove through our yard. He was emptying the bags while his mom drove - he was almost knocked off the top by a tree limb, too. The rest of the kids were inside the van with their mom tearing toilet paper into the 4 inch squares and filling more bags for the son to empty. They also threw rolls of toilet paper into the trees. The only way we could clean our yard was to rake it.
I have to say the fun we had was reciprocated and everyone drew a little closer because of it.

Bread and Butter

When I was 17 my family lived in a small run down farmhouse owned by my grandmother. My father had given up his job in Detroit to move us out of the city and out of the way of the race riots that were taking place. He and my uncle were going to build houses.
We lived on money my parents had saved. We had a garden and my parents even butchered a cow for meat. We didn't have extras, but we had a roof over our heads, food in our bellies and clothes on our backs. And we were a family. There was never a thought about who's fault it was that we weren't living in our beautiful house in Detroit anymore. Nor was I angry that I had to leave my friends, my boyfriend and the culture that I loved back in Detroit. Again, we were family and we dealt with things together.
We had gone through all the money my parents had saved so my parents got a loan to finish the house and sustain us for a while longer. The loan had been granted, but we had to wait for the reality of the money to be put into their account. And we waited. And waited. Pretty soon all we had left to eat was the meat from the butchered cow, old potatoes from the garden and green beans that Mom had canned. The beef was so tough that the only way it could be eaten was to put it in a pressure cooker. (My parents had butchered the cow after my uncle hit it in the head with a rock, killing her instantly. He was going to bury the cow, but my folks said they could use the meat. The two of them - my mom and dad - butchered the cow in the field where she died. It took them hours. They ended up working by flashlight. They had never done this before, so the meat wasn't like buying it from Kroger's.) I was SO sick of the meat, potatoes and beans I could have screamed!
Then my grandma walked into our house with a loaf of bread and some butter. I had a slice of bread with butter slathered on it. It tasted so good! To this day I have never tasted anything quite so wonderful as that bread and butter.

The Spirit

One of my favorite memories is the first time I felt the Spirit. I was about 9 or 10 years old. My dad was in the bishopric so he was sitting on the stand. I was sitting with my mom in the front pew on the right side of the church.
It was the Sunday before the 4th of July. We all stood to sing the National Anthem. I could feel myself being filled with the most wonderful sensation. I had tears in my eyes and could not finish the song.
I was there in the Detroit Ward singing to the Lord about the country I lived in. I know this country had been set aside for the purpose of God. This is where the priesthood had been restored. This is where the first temple had been built in these latter days. This is where the fullness of the gospel had been restored.

Depression

This is one of those days that I cannot get going. I don't have enough energy to brush my teeth or change out of my pajamas. I feel a dark blanket over my soul.
There is something wrong with me. Why would children turn against a parent? Why would a brother turn against a sister? Am I so bad that I cannot be forgiven for ANYTHING?
I don't feel worthy of friends. I have turned my back on friends - afraid that they will see this terrible flaw in me. That they will hate me also.
I've gone to my Bishop and found innocent of charges, but if this is true, why do people still feel I am guilty?
I wish I could cry. I can't even do that any more.
I stay in this pain because leaving is a sin. I will not put any more burden on my husband or the children who still love me. Or my sister. I see the pain that Jim caused his family and I will not do that to those who still love me. But why do they love me?
Nothing I have ever done is important. Nothing I do is right.
My life is a blackened hole into which I am falling.

First Apartment

For a wedding present, Bruce's folks paid our first months rent on an apartment. It was a half block off Main Street in Union City, MI. It was in an older house which had been divided into 4 apartments - 2 downstairs and 2 upstairs. Our apartment was on the upper floor.
When we first saw it, we were shocked. It had furniture, but it was not exactly clean. We had to scrub food off the sides of the table. But it was ours! Our first home.
When we moved in, it was winter. Since it was an upstairs apartment, it stayed pretty warm. We didn't pay utilities there - just rent. The rent was a whopping $75.00 a month. Our apartment had a small kitchen, a small living room, a tiny bathroom with a short claw foot tub - no shower (Bruce was a hoot in the bathtub trying to get his 6'3" crammed in there!), a small bedroom and an even smaller half-bedroom. I had never heard of a half-bedroom before, but that's how it was described to us. I think it was actually a closet with enough space to put a crib in.
We didn't even own a television, just a stereo. We played chess quite a bit, too. We finally got a television when Bruce got a job at Haas's plastics factory.
I got pregnant and found out in the early spring. I was thrilled - Bruce was not. We didn't have any insurance and because we owned a car, we couldn't get any state help. As I got bigger, the weather got warmer. Warm weather brought all kinds of surprises. The most startling surprise was cockroaches! I swear a couple of them challenged me to a fight over food. Those stupid things were huge. They stayed out of sight in the daytime, but at night when the lights were out, they came out. You could hear them on the linoleum. The worst part was walking into a dark room, turning on the light and having those nasty bugs scatter!
When we moved in, living upstairs had been a blessing because heat rises. In the summer time, it's not so much fun. We had a small oscillating fan to keep us cool. Well, it stirred the hot, humid air a bit. That summer we had temperatures over 100 degrees for a week. I thought I would die!
One day we had a bad thunder storm. I was laying down for a nap when the wind started blowing. The house swayed! Lightening crashed all around, the wind whipped the trees and the thunder sounded like it was in the room with me. I honestly thought the house was going to be torn apart.
We finally had enough money to move. We moved from one upstairs apartment in Union City to another upstairs apartment in Athens.
I'll always be grateful for our first little apartment. It wasn't much, but it was ours. And the roaches.

Steve

Steve was my difficult child while in his teens. He strove to be different. He was happiest when he could make people speechless. When in the 10th grade he even went so far as to wear a skirt and a wig to high school (I didn't find that out until I was at a church gathering.).
The summer that he was 18 he was going back and forth if he wanted to go on a mission for our church or not. His family was pulling him in one direction and his friends were pulling in the other. There was a week long youth camp held at a college campus in Indiana. There was also one close to home, but the kids in our church were going there and he did not to go with them. He said he would go if he could drive himself - in my new Cavalier.
I agreed because I so wanted him to be with kids who could influence him for good. He left on Monday morning.
I got a call around 1:00 in the afternoon from one of the councilors who was quite upset. He said that Steve had signed in but got upset and wanted to leave. If he were under 18, they had the right to keep him there, but he was 18 and could legally be on his own. I asked to talk to Steve. Steve was mad! He said he hated it there and that people were rude and he was coming home no matter what anyone says. I asked him to at least stay over night and that if he still felt the same, he could come home. He agreed. I asked him to call me the next day to let me know what was going on. Then I cried.
I was sitting on the couch by myself in the front room crying and praying. I had decided to fast and pray the rest of the day to see if Steve could get some guidance.
Someone knocked at my back door. I opened the door and our two missionaries stood there smiling. They can't come in if there is just a female in the house, so they stood in the doorway. It was pretty clear that I was crying, so they asked what was wrong. I told them and they both volunteered to fast and pray with me. What wonderful young men. I will never forget them for that.
After they left, I remembered that when you pray, you should be specific. So I asked God to send Steve an angel.
Steve didn't call the next day. Or the day after that or the day after that. I couldn't contact the camp, either. I was worried that my son and my new car was in Florida.
Saturday morning Steve finally called. He was in the best mood. He told me what a great week that he had had. I couldn't resist asking if he had met a 'special' person (the angel I had prayed for). He said no. He said he met a bunch of special people.
My heart soared! I knew that Father had answered my prayers. I knew that my son had gone to a great place and had a great time.

C-A-N-D-Y

One of my earliest memories involves two things that interest me - spelling and candy. I must have been about 4 years old (I wasn't in school yet.) when one night one of my brothers said to my mom, "When K-i-t-t-y goes to b-e-d, why don't you make some f-u-d-g-e." I knew what he was spelling. I said, "No! I want to stay up if you're going to make fudge!" I remember my 2 brothers and Mother looking at me with their mouths open. Looking back, they must have said that quite often for me to know what they were spelling!
My mom never used a recipe. She knew how to make fudge from memory. When we lived in Detroit, Mom would give me some money and send me to the 'candy' store to buy peanuts for the fudge. Sometimes she made the suggestion and sometimes someone else would, but we had her home made fudge quite often. Back then it was also customary that if you needed a cup of sugar, you could call a neighbor and borrow it. My mom sent me down the street a number of times with her glass measure. One time she sent me to get some vanilla. I thought it smelled heavenly. It did not taste heavenly.
She never used a candy thermometer. She used the cold-water-in-the-cup method. She would boil the mixture for so long then drop just a tiny glob of fudge into the cold water. If the fudge dissolved, it wasn't even close. If it formed into a soft ball, it was getting closer. When the ball was firm, it was time to take it off the stove, stir the fudge and pour it into a pan. If the fudge turned into a hard ball instantly - it was too late. The fudge was like concrete and sometimes tasted like it was burned.
Memories of standing at my mom's side while she created marvelous tasting items stay with me and make me smile.

Jordan River Temple

When we lived in Salt Lake City, the Prophet announced the building of a new temple in West Valley City. It wasn't very far from our house, so we would go to the building sight and take pictures. We have a complete picture history of the building of the Jordan River Temple.
One day we noticed that there had been a new addition to the sight in front of the almost-built temple. It was the Angel Moroni. The statue was HUGE! Bruce stood next to it while I took the picture so we could get an idea of just how big the statue really is. What an incredible sight.
We went to the dedication of the Jordan River Temple. We sat in the tabernacle on Temple Square. What an experience. It was one of the most uplifting events I had ever attended - rivaled only by the dedication of our own Detroit Temple.
We had moved to West Valley City. We had some 'misfortunes' with the crooked owner of the house we rented. Bruce had undergone back surgery and we had no income. With 5 children all under the age of 9, it was not a fun time. The best thing that happened was that Bruce graduated from Utah Technical College - second in all of the graduating class. He had one A minus, the other guy had straight A's.
As we prepared to move back home to Michigan, we went to the temple. Bruce and I were both feeling horrible about our lives at that time. We went to the temple and after we changed our clothes, we met up in the hallway before the ceremony began. There was a temple worker at the door greeting all the attendees. He saw us and asked that we step aside. I thought, "oh, no! Now what have we done? Are they going to ask us to leave?"
The worker came up to us and said something about seeing us walking down the hall holding hands and he felt inspired to ask us to be the witness couple. My spirit soared! Of course! In the temple we are closest to Father than we are anywhere else on earth. He knew our pain and was letting Bruce and I know that He loved us - despite the trials we faced.

Cross Country Skiing

Actually, the name of this blog is misleading. We didn't do much cross country skiing. We skied around our house and a bit out back and one time we took then to Winona to do some skiing. The years after we bought the skies, it stopped snowing enough in Michigan to use them. Sorry, our fault to all those who love deep snow.
It was Bruce's idea too buy the skis, but I got on board right away with the idea. I loved anything physical. It wasn't hard to learn how to use the skis, but it sure was a great work-out. You use everything on your body when you ski, except maybe your ears and you cover them anyway.
It was Bruce's thought to take our skis to Winona, MN with us. He said there were lots of open spaces where we could ski. We brought 2 of our kids with us to an ice skating rink on a lake that is actually a backwater of the Mississippi. It's damned up, so there's not a current. Bruce suggested we ski on the lake.
I am not a fan of lakes - either solid or liquid. He kept reassuring me, though, that he had grown up here and the lake was thoroughly frozen and we would not fall through. Then he showed me the tracks where someone had taken a snowplow onto the lake to clear out the spot to skate.
We got our skis on and off we went. I've got to say that I was nervous the whole time we were out, then I noticed an open spot where the lake is aerated (sp?). I told Bruce I really wanted to get off the ice. He agreed.
We headed for the solid ground that God had gathered for smart men to walk (ski) on. To get to the shore we had to cross over the path that the snowplow had cleared. The snow was piled up on each side of the path at least 2 foot higher than the ice. Bruce was skiing ahead of me. He treated the banks as if they were just a part of the solid snow. Wrong - o, Marylou! He went down like a sack of potatoes on the ice. He was laying there flat on his back with his ski's crossed. His poles were extended out from his body, still in his hands. I called out to him to see if he was all right. He answered back that he was fine, but he couldn't get up. I don't know what he thought I could do about that, especially since I could barely stay on my ski's because I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt.
I had watched Bruce go over the bank and take a dive the way he skied, so I got to the edge of the bank and put my feet together, pushed off and glided down one side of the bank and up the other. It worked quite well.
I honestly do not remember how we got Bruce on his feet, but I do remember our skiing was done for the day. We gathered the kids and went back to his grandmother's house.

Trip to Winona

The summer before we moved to Springville, Utah, we made a trip to Winona, Minnesota. Gramps had passed away a couple of years prior, so we were going to see Grandma Stanislawski. She said she had some bunk beds she wanted to give to us.
We borrowed Bruce's dad's van, packed in our 3 boys and one daughter - ages 9 months to 5 years old - and headed west. It was always a long trip, but the back roads through Wisconsin could leave you breathless.
We stayed a few days, loaded the van with needed furniture and headed to Nauvoo, Illinois. We have always loved visiting Nauvoo. It's so inspirational. The missionaries there are wonderfully informative and nice. We also wanted to make sure the kids had an extra influence for good in their lives.
We were absolutely exhausted by the time we drove from Winona to Nauvoo, then walked around a little bit. We needed to find somewhere to sleep, but we had very little money. There is a camp sight in Nauvoo, though, so we took our little family there.
The kids curled up in the back of the van and Bruce and I slept in the chairs in the front. Not fun. When morning came, I took Chris and our daughter to the outside toilet. It was horrible! It was an old fashioned outhouse. I took the kids one at a time and stood in there with them because they were afraid of the open drop under the seat.
We brushed our teeth with water from a pump and had crackers and cheese for breakfast. I was busy with the baby and my 2 year old when our daughter said she had to pee. I asked her if she could wait, but she said, no, she had to go NOW. I could not stop doing what I was doing and I don't remember what Bruce was doing, so I told her to go on by herself. I could see the outhouse from where we were. Off she went. She had gone into the outhouse and within a minute she started screaming. Blood curdling screams. I turned on my heel and took off for the outhouse. Bruce heard the screams and he ran to the outhouse. I got there first and yanked the door open terrified as to what I would find in there. Had she fallen down into the waste? Nope. There was my 3 year old sitting with her pants around her ankles screaming because there was a bee in the outhouse with her.
We got home at about midnight on Saturday. We wanted to be able to rest on the Sabbath, so we pushed to get home on Saturday. Bruce pulled the van around to the back of our house so it would be easier to unload. We only had a key to the front door, so he went around to let us in the back. While he was gone, a police cruiser pulled into our driveway. The officer got out of his car and asked to see my identification. Bruce walked out of the back door and he was also asked for his I.D. He asked us questions about who we were and what we were doing. When he was satisfied that we were who we said we were he told us our neighbors behind us saw a strange vehicle pulling into our yard at midnight. They knew we were gone and were afraid someone was robbing us.
Some people may have gotten mad about being suspected of being a thief, but Bruce and I were very grateful for alert neighbors. All ended well - if not exhausting.

Neighbors

We had an elderly couple living next to us in Detroit. He was 15 years older than his wife. They had an arranged marriage from 'the old country'. The husband was a sweet man who used to make his own wine in their basement. the wife was not a nice person. She was demanding and very, very cheap.
Mrs. G. would call my mother and ask her to send my brothers over to mow her lawn. One of the boys would go, but it wasn't ever good enough. We had a hand mower, not a gas or electric mower, so it was not an easy task. Mrs. G. would go out and look at the lawn then tell them they had to do it again, the other way. Then she would give them one dollar.
Mrs. G. would call my mother and ask her to send me over because her house needed cleaned. I hated going! But my mother said that we need to help our neighbors. I would vacuum, sweep, dust, mop, fold clothes and whatever else she needed. I would either get a quarter or fifty cents and a St. Christopher's medal. I had more St. Christopher's medals than my Catholic friends.
Mrs. G was a heavy woman who could not stop drinking wine. She had to have weighed well over 300 pounds by the time her legs were totally incapacitated. Every morning - I mean EVERY morning - my parents would go to the G.'s house and help her to the porta-potty then to her wheelchair. Mom would help sponge bathe her and brush her hair.
Eventually they got a type of hoist to get her out of her bed because she was so heavy.
Mr. G. tried to help, but he was old and fragile. So, he asked us to come to dinner at their house for a REAL Italian meal. My parents accepted and on a Sunday in between meetings we went to their house for a home cooked Italian meal.
Next to my plate was a full glass of grape juice. I loved grape juice. We didn't have it very often because it was an expense m parents felt we needed, I guess. Anyway, I took a gulp of grape juice and about gagged. I turned to my father and said something about the grape juice tasting bad. He shushed me and told me to be polite, drink it anyway.
We had fresh bread, real Italian spaghetti and home made lemon cake. It was great. When I got used to the taste of the grape juice, I enjoyed it also.
We were finishing up the cake when one of their daughters came in the back door. (They had 13 living children.) She came bursting into the dining room wielding an empty wine bottle. I'll never forget the exchange that took place:
"Ma! Did you give these people this wine? You know they don't drink alcohol!"
"That's not-a wine! That's-a grape juice!"
The daughter apologized to us profusely. Mr. G.'s wine that he used to make was quite potent. So, Mrs. G felt that the wine that was commercial was not real alcohol.
my dad teased me for years about being an 'alky' because I drank a full glass of wine a dinner. I had a headache for the rest of that day.

Little Israel

I grew up in Detroit 3 blocks west of the 6 Mile and Schaeffer intersection. Exactly one mile north on 7 Mile was a group of stores, a schule and some bakeries - all Jewish. People called the area Little Israel. My dad used to drive us to the bakery there and we would go in and buy bagels - fresh, smelling like heaven, all types of grains and seasonings. It was quite a treat.
My best friend, Debbie and I walked up to 7 Mile and went through the stores up there. One jewelry store had a beautiful Star of David necklace. I looked at it and counted how much money I had. The necklace was $1.00 and I had a little over .90 cents. I smiled at the little old man behind the counter and told him I didn't have enough. I started to walk away with Debbie when I heard him call me back. He asked how much I had. I told him. He grunted, gave me a sideways look then told me he would sell it to me for the money I had.
I left the store with that beautiful star nesting around my neck and a huge smile on my face.

The Main Event

When the Silverdome was the home of the ?Detroit Lions, it was an incredible place to visit. There was a restaurant inside called the Main Event. Kerry Roop had rented this huge restaurant space and set up kick-boxing fights. Roz Stetson and I sang the Star Spangled Banner and we each had a solo in the middle of the fights. At the last event I was sitting next to June and her boyfriend. Kerry came over and asked June where I was. I raised my hand (almost under his nose!) and he told me to come with him. A friend of mine was fighting in the main event - which was called King of the Ring. Kerry wanted ME to give the trophy to the winner! I was so excited. That position is usually given to a very pretty girl. Hank won the fight (my friend) so Kerry gave me the trophy and I entered the ring to present it to him. Hank gave me a huge hug. It was the soggiest, smelliest hug I've ever gotten. What an experience, though. One that I will always cherish.

Brandon's Day

It has been a busy afternoon. Bruce and I gave Brandon $20.00 cash for his birthday, and he had gotten a $3.00 gift card from Toys R Us. So Brandon and I left Josh and Ashley with Chris and Dana and went to the store. First we stopped at Burger King and got a pop. Brandon was all smiles. We went to Toys R Us and walked around until Brandon made his choice of Baku Gahn's (I have no idea how to spell this, so I apologize.). He looked for sales and for how much he could get for the money he had. He was so cute to watch. He paid for his items then we went next door to get Abby a few doggy things.
I had called Chris earlier and asked that Dana not bother to bake a cake, I wanted to take Brandon to Kroger's so he could pick out his own cake. Of course, if you have cake, it's a rule you must have ice cream. We also bought bagels and cream cheese.
After dinner that night we sang to Brandon and everyone had a slice of cake. Brandon just beamed.
We chatted in the car both ways. He is a very intelligent young man and very well spoken. Sometimes I had to remind myself that he is only 10 years old.
I think I had just as good a day as Brandon did.

Life's Lessons

I learned an important lesson when I was in Primary. One that still surprises me to this day.
Our

I have had many precious times in my life. My marriage - both for time and then for eternity, the birth of my children and grandchildren, attending marriages of my children, their baptisms, graduation from college, buying a new, never lived in house, etc., etc., etc.
Today I'm reminded of seeing my first granddaughter when she was just hours old.
Bruce and I were down visiting our daughter for Thanksgiving when she went into labor. Eime (pronounced Amy) was born on Thanksgiving Day. Bruce and I went to the hospital to visit and there she was, the tiniest angel ever.
The hospital had her in her little cart pushed up to the nursery window next to a baby boy. This little baby boy weighed over 9 pounds and was of Latino heritage. He had thick, black hair that would soon need a trim and fat ruddy cheeks. Eimi had little hair, was very light skinned and around 6 pounds. What a comparison.
When I got to hold her, I felt almost a physical connection to this little angel. I was holding a newly-arrived-from-God's-presence little spirit embodied in a sweet perfect little body. She felt so warm. I knew from holding Eimi that there is definitely an eternal connection through family lines. She was supposed to be part of my family. I instantly fell in love with her.
Now we have another little baby coming into our family. I am so excited.

Roller Rink Accident

The Battle Creek Ward had a roller skating party. We got a sitter for Chris and our daughter, met up with some friends and off we went. I had been to a rink in Detroit a few times as a kid and loved skating. Bruce had also, but I had no idea he was a little klutzy.
WE were having the time of our lives, skating to the music, holding hands when Bruce fell. He didn't fall backwards, he fell forwards. He's about 6'3", so when he fell forward, he covered a lot of distance. Not only did he fall forward, but he flung his arms out. I rolled right over his fingers.
I felt bump, bump, bump, bump twice; each finger with front wheels then back. He had fallen so quickly that I didn't have time to stop.
When I did stop and turned back to him he was getting up. I asked him if he was all right. He said he was. I dissolved into gales of laughter right there in the middle of the rink.
We all need something to keep us humble.

NOT Powder-puff Football

When I was a junior at Rose D. Warwick High School in Tekonsha, MI., some of the girls wanted to have a powder puff football game between the junior and senior girls. We had never before had one and it was a relatively new idea.
A couple of girls from the 12th grade and a couple of girls from the 11th grade spoke with the principal to see if it was o.k. He said 'no'.
When asked why he wouldn't let us do it, I think he tried to frighten the girls by saying that if they wanted to play football, they had to do it like the boys did - tackle. We would have to use the schools equipment and suit up for real, manly-men football. We were all thrilled to do it. He was stuck, so he agreed to allow the game.
No one really knew me, I was the only new kid in school that year. Two of the senior girls cornered me in the lunchroom and threatened me. They said that if I played, they'd beat me up. I looked them in the eye and told them I was playing. They left with the threat and I just about fell on the floor with weak knees! I'd never been threatened before! Not even in Detroit!
We practiced with the junior members of the boys team. Well, the boys practiced with the cheerleaders and the rest of us were pretty much ignored.
I was a left end and my best friend, Mary Ellen Hazen was a tackle. She looked like a pro player in her uniform. She was 5'9 and built like a pear, small shoulders and wide hips. With the shoulder pads on, she was huge.
My parents came to the game to see girls play tackle football. I have to say my folks were entertained. The kickoff was a whopping success with the ball flying about 6" into the air then flopping at least 8 yards. It was down hill from there.
I did recover a fumble and the juniors won. We got a touchdown and the seniors didn't. I think it was more like 'herd' ball that an organized game. But we were so excited. Mary should have been MVP. She had 2 brothers who loved to harass her and her friends, so tackling a sissy girl was easy for Mary.
The girls who threatened me never beat me up. There was not another game between the juniors and seniors until after I graduated.

Wedding

The year was 1971. My sweetheart had proposed and I had accepted. We decided to get mat tied before the year was out - taxes!
My father had just started a job (this is after his failed attempt with his brother - Ronnie - to build houses) and my family did not have any extra money. Weddings were not something that could be budgeted for in a non-existent budget. That was all right. Bruce and I were both working and we had saved some money. We paid for our own wedding.
Being LDS we didn't have to pay for a minister or the building to get married in. My mom suggested that the family could clean up the church after the wedding so we wouldn't have to pay a clean-up fee.
I fell in love with a bridal gown and veil from the J.C. Penney catalog. Inclusively, it was $100.00. I ordered it. It did not even need any altering, it fit like the picture. Bruce is so tall that it didn't matter what height heel I had.
I had 5 bridesmaids, so Mom and I went shopping for patterns and material. I wanted all different colors in pastel. Beth made her own, Karen made her own and Mom made the other three. We also had 2 flower girls, June and my niece Pammy. They wore yellow. Mom made both of those dresses also.
My art teacher, Mrs. Pileri, made the cake. We paid $35.00 for 5 bottom cakes and three additional tiers to the top. We bought a cake top that was 2 hearts made of pearls entwined.
The most involved part of the wedding was picking out and having invitations made. Bruce and I agreed on everything. There wasn't any arguments nor was there any ego issues.
Bruce and I ordered flowers. I was so excited because I ordered a bouquet that I thought my mom would love. We drove to my house from the florist and I ran into the house to tell my mom that my bouquet was made up of red poinsettias. She flipped. How could I carry a bouquet of red flowers? People would talk! Brides carried all white flowers! We drove back to the florist and changed the order post haste!
Bruce's best man - Ken Behling - was 5'3". My maid of honor was 5'9". I had asked Mary to please buy flats for the wedding. She bought 3" heels. They looked pretty funny walking down the aisle together.
My parents bought Ted a little brown suit to wear for the wedding. He was to carry my train down the aisle.
While my father and I waited for my turn to walk down the aisle, my dad got his licks in. "There goes Beth." "There goes Karen. You're almost up!" "Well, there goes Mary. You're next! Are you nervous? I am!" By the time we walked down the aisle, I was shaking like a leaf. And crying. My life was changing. I was going from a child in my parents home to an adult in my husband's and my home. It was happening in a matter of hours.
The wedding was beautiful. Everything went well. The reception was simple - cake, mints, cashews and punch.
After the reception the wedding party drove around honking horns and creating minor havoc. When we went into the circle around the fountain in Marshall, Don's car slid on ice and his car rammed ours - well, Ken's car. There was no damage, thank heaven.
That was all almost 38 years ago. We're still together, through thick and thin, trials, happiness and 5 children.

Henry Ford High

After the riots happened at Cooley High and my parents pulled me out, they tried to get me into another high school. Back then ( I don't know if it's still true) Detroit schools had 1/2 years. You could start a grade in January, not just September. So, my parents tried to sign me up to go to Henry Ford High. You had to live in the school district then, and with the busing going on it was strictly enforced.
Karen's parents offered to let me live with them and go to school, but my parents didn't want to get that drastic. There was a family in our ward who lived in Henry Ford's boundaries. They said I could use their address and still live at home. I would go to seminary in the morning, go home with Karen then either ride the bus home from Karen's or my parents would pick me up at Karen's house.
I started in January at Henry Ford. My mom registered me with a false address. I already knew a few of the kids there - Karen, Roz, their boyfriends and a few other guys. I loved it there! When I went to lunch, Roz's boyfriend invited me too sit with him. I didn't know it but the table he sat at was the table reserved for the varsity guys. There I was, varsity guys then me and the rest of the lunchroom wondering who I was.
I had gone there for two weeks when I was called into the office. My mom was there. I was being thrown out of high school. The boundary issue was so intense that the school sent out a person to check if the addresses of the new students were valid. The person at the address that my mom had used couldn't lie. She 'fessed up that I didn't really live there. So I was summarily tossed out. I was SO embarrassed.
I didn't go back to school until we moved out to Eckford and I went to Tekonsha High.

Cemetery

I was 15 years old when our youth group from church decided to have a hayride. We were all to meet at a farm, go on a hayride, have some refreshments then go home. I got there early, then Karen came with Roz. There were three guys there, too - Richard, Hal and I think his name was Matt. The guys saw a cemetery across the street and invited us girls to go with them.
We hesitated. None of us was too brave, but in the end we were persuaded to go with them into the cemetery.
The girls all walked in a tight bunch and the guys told scary stories of dead people rising from their graves. We were in the middle of the cemetery when one of the guys pointed to a grave and screamed. They all took off running, screaming and laughing. We all took off, too.
I was streaking toward the entrance when I heard, "My shoe! My shoe came off! I can't find my shoe!" It was Roz.
I was torn. Do I run for safety with the rest of the gang or do I go back and help Rozzy? I could not leave Roz there by herself. I went back and we frantically searched for this little black slipper. We found it! We put our arms around each other and ran as fast as we could out of that cemetery.
When we got back to the farm, the guys and Karen were there laughing their collective butts off.

Cars!

When Chris was 16, we bought him a used car from a friend. He had his license for about 2 months before he wrapped the car around a tree on Waterford Rd. We took his license from him for a few months.
The following summer we bought him a used Firebird. Not a good thing! This car was pretty fast and looked the part. Chris loved that car.
One day I had to borrow it to go to a karate lesson. I had on a brand new white uniform. The trip took about 15 minutes on back roads. It had been raining for a few days, so everything was wet. There were puddles everywhere.
In the middle of a dirt road there was a huge puddle that stretched across the whole road. I couldn't avoid it. I drove through it and all of a sudden muddy water splashed up from the floorboard all over me. My pretty white uniform had huge brown spots all over the legs and up the front of me. I was shocked for a few seconds.
Then - I have this strange sense of humor - I could see in my minds eye the water splashing all over me and the look on my face. I started laughing. I almost had to pull over because I was laughing so hard.
The floorboard had a couple of big holes in it that Chris had covered with cardboard. I must have moved the cardboard when I was driving. I'm not the only one that got bushwhacked by the holes. My daughter got a face full of water, too.

The Thing Steve Dragged Home

It must have been 1994 or 1995. I was standing in my dining room in Rochester, Mi when I heard this very strange scraping, screeching noise. It was faint at first, then got louder and louder. I was reminded of the War of the Worlds by Wells with this noise.
I ran to the front window and looked out to see what was going on. I saw Steve's truck with something behind it. I couldn't make out what it was, but it was the object making this otherworldly noise. The closer he got, the louder it got.
Finally he pulled up in front of the house. I waited until the noise stopped (o.k., call me a coward if you want, but if you knew Steve when he was a teenager, you would understand).
I went outside and saw this rusted out shell of a dune buggy. It had no wheels, which is why it was so noisy!
Steve was so proud of his new find. "Mom! Look! This guy said I could have it if I just took it home!" I thought of finding this guy and smacking him.
"Josie (his girlfriend a the time) and I are going too fix it up and have fun in it. It won't take too much work."
It sat out front for quite a while without anyone touching it except Rob and Brian who went out and took funny pictures of one sitting on the others' shoulders while in the driver's seat. They had a blast in the eye sore.
One day a police officer showed up at the door. He said there had been a complaint by a neighbor and we had to get the buggy out of sight or we would be ticketed. Great. So the boys pushed and pulled this ugly thing into the garage and closed the door.
A couple of years later, Bruce insisted that Steve get rid of the 'thing' in our garage. Steve called a junk yard and it was towed away.
The road to hell is filled with good intentions. I thought for sure that hell was visiting us with the noise that thing made coming down the street to my house.

Abby, Dana and Donny

All ready to party-down at the devil fest.

Escape!

Last night Abby barked to get outside. There was nothing to bark at, but to let her see for herself I opened the door and waited for her to bark at the wind then come back. Little Donny (the kitten) saw the wide open door and scooted out onto the porch, down the steps and into the yard. It was pitch black outside and the cat is black. And fast! I took off after the cat, but my take-off mode isn't what it used to be.
I saw a black shadow dart across the yard, then turn and dart away. Abby took off for the side yard (we have the invisible fence for her so she can't leave the yard). I went over there and couldn't see anything. Then a shadow darted past me into the front yard.
Abby went after the kitten and caught him. Donny flipped onto his back to play with Abby. I told Abby to "get the kitty!" She looked at me and put her paw on Donny to keep him in place. I was almost there when the kitten got out from under Abby's paw and streaked toward the house. Abby was right after him, but I've never seen a kitten so fast.
Abby corned Donny on the porch, but Donny got around her and almost leapt for freedom off the porch when he noticed a flower pot. He LOVES flower pots.
Donny stopped and put his paws on the rim of the pot and I caught him!
Whew!
If it hadn't been for Abby and the flower pot, my little black kitten would have been toast. Tomorrow is Halloween and he would have been a great prize for any little goblin.

Sharing

Trick or treating in Detroit was incredible. We would take a pillow case and just about fill it every Halloween. I went with Denise when I was little, then with Sherry when I was a little older. When I was 12, my mom said it was time for me to not go out in costume anymore. We had Halloween parties at church or just as friends after trick or treating was outgrown.
Next to Winship Elementary School was an orphanage. The orphans weren't allowed to go trick or treating. Our school asked all the kids who went trick or treating to bring some candy in for the orphans. Every one brought candy in. I didn't like hard candies or suckers, so that's what I brought from my stash. Then I would feel a little guilty and include some chocolate bars, too.

Devil's Night

Devil's night in Detroit was a lot of fun when I was a kid. There was nothing malicious going on at all. We soaped windows and rang doorbells. One devil's night my parents had gone out leaving my brothers, Sandy and I at home.
My brothers were told that they could under no circumstances leave the house. So they did the next best thing; they rigged the front upstairs window to be ready for anyone who decided to 'trick' our house that night. Late October in Michigan is usually not exactly balmy; however, my brothers took the screen out of that window and opened it wide. Right underneath that window was the front door where the tricksters would ring the bell and run.
They filled balloons with water and arranged them within easy reach of the window. Then they waited.
It wasn't too long when the first 'devil' snuck up to the front porch to ring the bell and run. Dan and Dennis waited, waited until the guy got right under the window and threw the water filled balloons at him.
My brothers were the best at being inventive in their boredom. I don't know how many people they got, but I remember (I was about 7 years old) the two of them laughing their butts off.

Names

There are six kids in my family: Dan, Dennis, Sandy, me, June and Ted. My mother named the first 3 kids and my father named the last 3 kids. My father named me Katherine Joan - with Joan pronounced Joanne.
Mom was all right with the name Katherine, but she didn't want anyone to tag me with the nickname Kat. They shortened Katherine to Kitty.
When I was very small my brother, Dennis, called my Kiki.
I can remember my dad singing a song to me that was from the WWII era. It was supposed to have the name Katie in it, but he always put my name in it. It was:
K-k-k-kitty. beautiful Kitty,
You're the only one that I adore.
When the m-m-moon shines
On the c-c-cow shed,
I'll be knocking on your k-k-kitchen door.
I remember the song, but I feel the love that my daddy had for his little girl. I'll bet if I could see my own face, I would have reflected the love I have for him, too.

Closure

Bishop Miller heard about Bruce's mother passing. He wrote us an e-mail and said that he hoped Bruce could find some closure at her passing. I know Bishop meant well and didn't know what else to say, but how does one obtain closure?
Things were left unsaid, feelings were raw and a family was in disrepair. How does one find closure?
I guess this is what people are supposed to feel when they are victims and their attacker is put in jail. Closure. But the feelings are still there. A life has been changed.
I think the only thing that may help is time. Time dims pain. Emotions cannot be turned on or off like a faucet or a light switch. Feelings can't have a band-aid applied to them.
Time and huge doses of prayer along with priesthood blessings will definitely help.
Another good thing that has happened since Louise has passed is that Bruce's sister and he are communicating. She seems to be a lovely person.
As for closure - I think that's a 'psycho-babble' word used to not have to think of anything else to say.

Policeman

I had bought the cutest little Volkswagen bug to drive when we lived in Springfield. I bought it for around $500.00 from a kid who was going to college. This kid had taken care of this little car like it was his first-born child. It had a quick little engine, glass pack mufflers and a p.a. system.
Bruce drove it when we were all going somewhere together. Bruce would drive, I had a baby on my lap, 2 more kids in the back seat and 2 kids in "the way back". There were no seat belt laws back then, obviously.
Bruce was driving down State Street when we saw lights behind us and a short 'WOOP'. He pulled over and a policeman swaggered up to the car.
"Know why I pulled you over"
"No."
"This is a quiet zone and your muffler is way too loud. I'm gonna ticket you, but if you fix it within 10 days, take your proof to the courthouse and the ticket won't need to be paid."
Bruce was huffing and sputtering. He was furious. We never had any extra money back then.
The officer then poked his head in the window and looked around for a few minutes. He told Bruce to wait for a minute and went back to his cruiser.
When he came back, he handed out toy police badges to each of the kids.
Bruce was mad, the kids were thrilled and I was secretly giggling.

Funny

Today is a cold, windy, wet, fall day. This morning I went to Kroger's to get some groceries. When I came out I saw that someone had left a cart way out by the end of the parking lot. The wind was pushing it along at a pretty good pace. Running in front of the cart was a sea gull, running for it's life. It was pretty funny looking. It reminded me a little of the Aflec duck.

Common Sense

An Obituary printed in the London Times - Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as: - Knowing when to come in out of the rain; - Why the early bird gets the worm; - Life isn't always fair; - and maybe it was my fault. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).
His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition. Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion. Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault. Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement. Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.He is survived by his 4 mean and ugly stepbrothers; I Know My Rights I Want It Now Someone Else Is To Blame I'm A Victim Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.


"Make it a good day or not--the choice is yours."

The Big Bang

When I was a kid in the Detroit Ward, my best friend was Evie Stetson. Evie had 2 older brothers and one younger one. They lived in Marvin Gardens - a bad, bad place in Detroit. Evie's mom was divorced so the sole authority they had at home was the mother. And she worked full time to keep a roof over their heads.
The oldest brother's name was Wally. He was maybe 5 years older than me, so I didn't have much to do with him. One Sunday evening, Wally was at the sacrament table. He and another boy had blessed the sacrament and remained in their seats. The row facing them was full of deacons who had already passed the sacrament.
I was sitting in a pew with my father about half-way down on the same side of the church.
In the middle of someone's talk, a loud bang was heard and smoke came billowing out of Wally's mouth, nose and ears.
Dr. Martineau was in the Bishopric at this time, so he was sitting on the stage not too far from Wally. He came rushing off the stage. grabbed Wally and ran him down the aisle and out the front doors by the back of his neck. No one had any idea what had happened!
After Sacrament Meeting was over we found out what happened. Wally had a small smoke bomb he was playing with. For some unknown reason he put the little bomb in his mouth and chomped down on it. It exploded in his mouth.
Dr. Martineau examined Wally and found him to be in o.k. health.
There were a few moments in Detroit that made Sacrament Meeting an exciting place to be.

Honor Your Parents

I looked up the word 'honor'. It can be used as a noun, adverb or adjective. I believe God used it as an adverb - as 'to honor'. So what does this mean, 'to honor'? I looked it up in the dictionary and saw what I expected to see; to give respect, to dignify, etc.
I looked upp 'honor' in the Mormon Doctrine. "To honor another person is to hold him in high esteem, to accord him respectful regard because of his high worth;"
Then I looked up The Ten Commandments in the mormon Doctrine. The ten commandments were written twice. The first set had principles of the priesthood in it. When Moses saw the actions of the Hebrews, he broke the first set.
The Lord said the second set was a "law of carnal commandment", the Lord would not go into the midst of the Hebrews. However, the same eternal standards were revealed.
If someone cannot do the simple laws of the ten commandments, how can one go on to live the laws of the priesthood?
I read every day about kids accusing their parents of horrible things. I read about how the children say their parents have not earned their respect.
How can these young people possibly go forward with their lives if they cannot do one simple thing the Lord has requested - no commanded - such as, "Honor thy mother and thy father."

Bumped

M-59 goes right through downtown Pontiac. There is a way to go that's a little quicker than straight through Pontiac. You can go down a 3 lane road that takes you to Widetrack which is 5 lanes. I was in the middle lane of the 3 lane road turning right into the middle lane of Widetrack. A man was in the far right lane of the 3 lane road. When the light turned green I made my turn. The man in the far right hit my back passenger bumper. I saw my hubcap roll into the middle of Widetrack and promptly get run over by traffic.
I pulled off onto an empty lot. The man in his big car pulled in after me. I got out of mt little truck to see the damage. He got out of his car - screaming. He stomped over to me yelling that mt back window was so filthy that there was no way I could have seen him! His hands were balled into fists and his face was beet red.
I was shocked! This man had hit me and was blaming me for not watching for him out of my back window. I was busy looking to my left to make sure no one was running a light and out the front window to make sure I was driving in my lane.
Not only was I in shock, but I was pretty sure this man was going to hit me. With his fist. He was totally out of control.
I, however, gained control. I thought, "If he swings with his right, I'll block with my left and use my right palm heel to his nose. If he hits with his left, I'll block with my right and do a left palm heel to his nose." I felt something akin to an invisible self-confidence blanket coming over me.
The man was about 3 feet from me when I yelled, "Wrong! You hit me! I think we need to call the cops! You will get a ticket for hitting me!" This was said at my loudest volume (And I have great volume!). The man stopped in his tracks with his mouth hanging open.
We exchanged insurance numbers. The only thing wrong with my little truck was the missing hubcap. He had a beauty strip that had peeled back from his front bumper.
He got into his car and I got into my truck and we left. I never heard from him again.
Later I wondered if this guy was trying to pull a scam on me. He may have hit me on purpose then with his screaming he could have cowed me into giving me a couple hundred dollars to fix his car and leave the insurance company out of it.
Wrong woman.

Shanghaied

Bruce was not a member of the church when we got married. He had taken the discussions. He went to church with me every Sunday. He had no problem with the word of wisdom and accepted the 4 standard works as scripture. But I couldn't get him to commit to baptism.
I was pregnant with our first child and wanted to raise the baby in an LDS home. I went to my bishop and told him what was going on. Bishop Watson called Bruce into his office and asked him how things were going. Bruce told him everything was fine. Then the bishop asked him questions concerning the church. Bruce answered all his questions. Then the bishop asked Bruce when he should schedule his baptism.
The interview was actually a baptism interview that neither Bruce nor I knew about. Bruce was stunned, but agreed to a date for baptism.
When we got out of the office, Bruce said, "I think I was just shanghaied!".
My dad baptized and confirmed Bruce. He's been a good member since 1972 and has a strong testimony.
Two years after baptism we went to the Washington D.C. Temple to be sealed with two of our children for all time and eternity.

Talent Contest

About 20 years ago the Clarkston Ward held a lip-sync talent contest. This was right up my group of friends' alley. We were all basically the same age, all mothers, all married and all just a tad looney. We decided to lip-sync to 'Stop, In the Name of Love' by Diana Ross and The Supremes.
Vicky Harsch was Diana Ross. Vicky isn't quite 5 foot tall, so she had to stand on a stool to be tall. However, to hide her standing on a stool she borrowed a long gown from her foster mother that went to the floor (her foster mother was around 6' tall).
Roz Wreford and I were the Supremes. We, of course, knew the song by heart so we didn't have to learn anything. We also had gowns that went to the floor. The one thing that we did have to do was to learn a dance routine to go with the song.
Roz's then husband, Dave, came in and taught us some steps. It went great. We had the time of our life.
We needed something, though, to make our performance unique. SO...we had Debbie Angelini hide beneath Vicky's stool and move a pair of shoes. The shoes seemed to belong to Vicky's tall self. During the song, Debbie moved the shoes to look as though Vicky was tapping her toe to the beat of the music. Then during one point in the song Vicky did a complete turn. Debbie flipped the shoes from left to right, then right to left while Vicky turned.
Roz and I, meanwhile, were 'getting down' with our dancing. The problem is that when we learned the steps we were wearing sneakers. During the show, we had heels on. Not good! We were having a heck of a time controlling those doggone heels!
We won. We beat out everyone else with our routine! The laughter was so loud in the gymnasium that it inspired us to keep going.
This is a great memory.

Miniature Golf

It was Saturday afternoon in the summer. My friend Denise and I decided to go play miniature golf. We walked to the course (probably close to a mile away) and proceeded to play. I had never played before and didn't know how much time it was going to take. I had a guitar lesson that afternoon that I had to pay for out of my own allowance, so we had to get done quickly. We were both pretty horrible. I looked at my watch and saw that time was nearly up. I ran to the next obstacle with Denise on my heels.
I didn't see that overhead bar. I ran right into it smacking my forehead full force. My feet literally came out from under me and I landed flat on my back. My good friend was so sympathetic. She was holding her stomach from laughing so hard. I slowly got up and finished that one hole.
I remember hustling home and grabbing my guitar.
Every time I looked in the mirror for the next week I saw an ugly reminder of why miniature golf was not my favorite pass time.

Brian's Feet

When Brian was born, he was the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. He came out absolutely perfect.
Nikki was in the hospital with burns, Bruce had been laid off and we found out that Brian had cleft feet.
All that at one time. My beautiful little baby had not moved around enough before he was born and his feet had pretty much molded inward and up.
We all got home and Bruce and I had no idea what his handicap would be. The Dr. told us before he could tell us anything he would have to see us in his office. When Brian was only a week old, he was taken to a bone specialist.
The Dr. was from India and not very friendly to me. He wrapped Brian's feet with tape and told me not to do anything until he saw him in another week. This went on for about a month - every week taking Brian to the specialist, the Dr. chewing me out for something or another and new tape on his feet and ankles.
Then the Dr. told us that Brian needed a cast on one of his feet. Here was this tiny baby with a huge cast hanging off his leg. He ended up with two different casts because he grew.
When the cast and tapes were removed permanently, we had exercises to do with Brian 3 times a day. We also had to buy special shoes for him to wear constantly. The shoes were shaped to the outside of the foot. They also had holes in the bottom them so we could screw his shoes into a plastic bar that he had to wear every night. The good thing about the shoes is that they were open toed so he could wear them a little longer. The shoes back then were $35.00 - 1976.
Brian got to the point where he could actually walk a little bit in that plastic bar! It amazed us how he could adopt to any circumstance.
Our insurance did not cover anything with Brian's disability. We had to pay the Dr. out of our own pocket and buy his shoes and brace ourselves. The first time I paid the Dr., the receptionist said, "That'll be $10.00." I was shocked! I paid the money, then asked why it was so cheap. She said the Dr. loved the little ones. From that point on, I could take whatever grief this Dr. gave me.
When Brian was 2 years old, Dr. said that his feet were in good shape. He was allowed to wear regular shoes for the first time. He has never had any trouble with his feet.

Agony

A few days before Nikki was admitted to the hospital, an R.N. at the V.A. got an emergency phone call. Her 5 year old daughter was missing and believed to have fallen in a river.
I never really liked this nurse. She had 2 children, a 7 year old son and a 5 year old daughter. She was a single mother who loved to party (her own words). Her son was a hand full. In today's world he probably would be labeled ADD or ADHD. Her daughter was an angel. While Mom and Son were in bed, this little girl would get herself up and catch the church bus so she could go to Sunday School. This is according to the mother. This sweet child was even tempered and gave no grief to the babysitter or her mother.
We found out that the child had fallen in the river and drowned. Everyone donated for flowers.
After Nikki was admitted to the hospital, I began my maternity leave, it was only 2 weeks early. The day of the funeral of the child I was going to the hospital for Nikki. The funeral home was not far from the hospital. I walked in and sat in the back. The place was packed.
Up front there was a beautiful little white and gold coffin. I couldn't see the child, but I could see her favorite teddy bear tucked on top of her. There were flowers everywhere. The mother was beyond grief - she was alternating between heart wrenching sobs and out right howling. I couldn't stay. I left with tears streaming down my own face, hiccupping my breath in and out.
I left because I was carrying a baby about to be born around in my belly and my 17 month old baby was in the hospital. I had so much stress on me that I couldn't bear to see this beautiful child dead. It sounds selfish now.
I never saw this nurse again. I was away from the V.A. for 6 weeks and by the time I returned, she had quit.
I often wonder if this sweet child only needed to get her body here. Would she have been able to maintain her wonderful personality growing up in a household where her mom was more interested in a good time than being a good mom. Father knows what's good for us, we don't.

Neighborhood

This morning when Bruce left for work I gave him a goodbye kiss. Then I asked him if he ever thought in his wildest dreams that we would be standing on the front porch in this lovely house in this nice neighborhood when he first kissed me in that awful little farm house. He smiled and said, "No.".
Last Sunday while backing out of the driveway, I noticed the sun shining bright on our little house. The roses were still on, the grass green, the trees turning red and gold, and the white siding particularly bright. It looked warm and comfortable.
Then we drove out of our neighborhood. It was clean and in order. There were Halloween decorations on some of the houses. We do have a couple of houses that have been foreclosed on, but most of the houses are so pretty with carefully planned landscaping. In the afternoon you can hear the laughter of children playing outside.
Across the street there live two teenage boys. Last year they went around the block to a neighbors house where there are always huge blowup decorations on the front lawn. There was a big blowup turkey - at least 8 foot tall. The boys stuffed the head down the neck. It was the funniest thing I had seen in a long time with a headless turkey standing there. The next day the head was popped out back on top where it belonged.
I feel so very blessed to live here. To live here with my husband of 38 years, priceless.

I was in my eighth of pregnancy with Brian. I worked in the V.A. hospital as a nursing assistant. My mom tended Chris and Nikki for me while I was at work. One night my mother called me at work. She never called me at work. This alone frightened me. Mom sounded upset when she asked me if I could bring home some sterile bandages. I asked her why. She said that Nikki had been burned. How bad? Well, her skin is very red and she's crying a lot. What happened? A bowl of soup had been put on the dining room table and Nikki wanted to see what was in it. She pulled the bowl of soup onto herself and was scalded. Is her skin blistering? Yes. Don't put anything on it. Don't put butter on it at all. Put cold water on it and try to get the temperature down. I'll be home as soon as I can. What about the sterile bandages? No, we're taking her to the hospital.
It took me about 1/2 hour to drive from the hospital to my parents home. I drove a Mustang II - a 4 seater car. We packed June, Ted and Chris into the backseat and Mom held Nikki in the front seat while I drove. I drove as fast as I reasonably could. I barely fit behind the steering wheel with my big belly.
We got to the hospital emergency room and they took Nikki into the examination area. I called Bruce's work, but he wasn't there. He had been laid off. I called our neighbor (we didn't have a phone then) and miracles of miracles, Bruce was helping the neighbors with a project so he was there. He drove to the hospital.
A doctor saw Nikki then turned around and walked away. I ran after him and asked what was going on? He said Nikki would be admitted. I asked how long she would have to stay. He gave me a dirty look and said, "Weeks and weeks". Maybe he thought I had burned her or had not been paying attention to what she was doing.
I don't remember what they called her burns, 1st, 2nd or 3rd, but I remember it was bad. We had taken her off the bottle but the hospital gave it back to her so she would drink some liquids. She refused to drink from the bottle. I didn't care if she drank from a bottle or directly from a tap. Whatever it took to get my baby healed.
Bruce and I had to dress in a gown, cap and wear a face mask before we could enter Nikki's room. She wouldn't eat for anyone except me. I was there for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Bruce was there with me. Mom had taken Chris home with her so we could be with Nikki.
There was a new cream out called silvadeem (spelling?) that was supposed to work quite well on burns. They would take Nikki to the whirlpool then apply this cream to her. She showed improvement immediately.
The morning after Nikki was admitted Bruce and his home teaching companion gave Nikki a blessing.
A couple of days after Nikki was admitted another little girl was admitted with the exact same type of burns that Nikki had. Her family had been camping when she pulled a pan of beans off the stove onto herself (They had a camper.).
I went in for my check-up and told my Dr. what was going on. Dr. Waterson thought it would be all right to induce my labor (Brian was ready) so I could be in the hospital with Nikki (I was exhausted with running back and forth to the hospital.). I delivered Brian on June 16th. That night I was pushed in a wheelchair by Bruce to Nikki's room so I could feed her. I was allowed to visit her for breakfast and dinner - only if I went by wheelchair, though. Bruce had lunch duty.
I'm positive it was the power of the priesthood, but Nikki was ready to be released 6 days after she was admitted. She was kept 7 days so both of us could be released at the same time.
Because of loss of fluid, she had to have a very strong iron supplement. The only way we could get her to take it was with grape juice. It was a liquid and the grape juice was the strongest tasting liquid she could drink to hide the taste.
Nikki grew up to be a beautiful woman. The last I knew she had a small scar where the nurses kept fastening her diaper at her hip. I know the power of faith and the priesthood when used hand in hand.