Journeys

We just got Elisha's wedding announcement. In it was a picture of Elisha and Dustin walking hand in hand down a train track. As soon as I saw this image I thought of journeys. I wonder if before we came to this earth it was explained to us that we would be going on a journey. That maybe some already born ancestor would be the engineer on this train of life and we would want to join where his train was going.
"Hold up! This is the train I want to travel on!"
"Come on aboard! Need to tell you, though, that this train will be making many stops and has lots of hazardous territories to travel through."
"Whatever comes my way, if I'm on this train I know I'll make the journey. I will endure the stops and starts and I will triumph over the hazardous territories."
"If you're willing to give this trip your all, we'll begin."
"Wait. I have more people to come aboard this train when we get to their location. Can they also come aboard?"
"Same rules apply too all. If they are willing to endure to the end, this train will gladly accept them."
And on we climb. The many starts and stops are the way we act while in mortality. The hazardous terrain are the temptations we must overcome.
Elisha and Dustin look so happy. I hope their journey together will bring them strength and closeness. I pray that they will have many other passengers join them on their journey.
I pray that Father will bless them.

Ted Kennedy

I was only 10 years old when John Kennedy was assassinated. Not long after that, Bobby Kennedy was murdered. Ted Kennedy was the youngest brother. He had quite an interesting and tragic life - much of it caused by himself. I had heard about Chappaquidic. I had heard about his drinking and his womanizing.
Last night and today I heard about another Ted Kennedy. I heard from friends and family about this larger than life man who cared deeply about others. I heard about his sense of humor, his work ethic and his compassion. Even those who didn't like his politics liked the man.
There are people who will like Ted for personal reasons and others who will hate him. I choose to hate the tragedies that he caused but like the way he treated people - even those who were not as privileged as himself.

Funny!!!

A few years ago I worked at a Walgreens drugstore. I had a friend named Mr. David who had a wierd and wonderful sense of humor - just like mine. However, I was transferred from the store where we had worked together to a store quite a bit north of there. A few months after my transfer I got a call.
The caller was an elderly British lady. She asked me if her 2xundershorts had come in yet. She explained that we had promised to special order them for her, but she had not heard from us abut them. Being at this store only a few months, I told her that I would look into the problem for her and call her back. Could I please have her phone number?
The next thing I heard was loud laughter. It was not some old British woman, it was Mr. David who had done a remarkable mimic job. He got me. Good. He had called for another reason, but when he heard my voice he couldn't pass up the chance to push my buttons.
Not one to let bygones be bygones, I went to K-Mart and bought the biggest panties I could find. And the ugliest. They came in a 3-pack. I put them in a box (without the new wrapper) and mailed them to the store where Mr. David worked with his name on the package.
When Mr. David got the package, he couldn't figure out who would be sending him a package at the store. When he opened them, there were several people in attendence. I also included a letter. It said something to the effect that Walgreen's was very sorry it took so long to get the underwear to him, but that Walgreen's didn't carry that size anymore. However, the distributor's wife was a large woman who had gladly volunteered 3 pair of her panties to him. He got teased for quite a while.
I was once again transferred. One early morning I got a phone call from a man who had a thick Indian accent. He wanted to know what the return policy for condoms was. I started to laugh. "O.k., Mr. David. You got me."
"I do not know this Mr. David." was the reply. I am giggling uncontrollably now. The accent was perfect.
"Where are you at? Are you at the store?"
"No, no. I am at home."
"Seriously, what store areyou at?"
"I do not know what you mean by this."
I decided to try another tact. "Well, why do you want to return the condoms?"
"They are too large."
I was screaming with laughter.
"All right, Mr. David. I knw it's you, so knock it off. What do yu want?"
"I do not know this Mr. David. I merely want to know what your return policy for condoms is."
After a few more minutes of conversation and giggling, I realized that I had a real customer on the line with a real question. I tried to apologize, but I doubt it sounded sincere because I couldn't stop giggling.
He asked if he could bring the box in and exchange it for another smaller size.
What could I say? Sure. I'll do the exchange for him.
Within a half an hour, in walked an Indian man with his large condoms in a bag. I refused to wait on him alone. I made another woman in the store stand near by. He handed me the bag and went to get the smaller condoms. He was gone for only a few minutes. He handed me the box then asked, "Do you know where it tells the size?"
It was an unfortunate experience for the poor little guy.

2nd 1st Degree Black Belt

I had gotten my 1st degree black belt through Master Yu in Ann Arbor, then changed schools to Kerry Roops Superkicks. Mr. Roop said he would honor my black belt, but I felt I had to prove to the club that I was worth my rank.
The test took place in a building that had a gymnastics floor. It was very springy. I had never even walked on a floor like this let alone worked out on one. It was way cool! Sort of.
Mister Roop's instructor, Master Yu (different Master Yu), was the judge and Mr. Roop ran the test. I had to do all my patterns from white belt through black belt. I had to do 1, 2, and 3 step sparring. I had to free spar one then two different people at once. What fun!!!! Fortunately, one of the two was a very small woman, so I grabbed her and used her as a shield against the young man who was trying to hurt me. Whatever it takes. I got a few kicks and hits in myself.
Then I had to break boards. Mr. Roop made me close my eyes and had people surround me with boards. He arranged them in the type of attack I would have to use to break the board, then told me to open my eyes and break. I had to assimilate where the boards were and what my best attack would be as fast as I could - either hand or foot. Then came the real test. I had to do a flying side kick into 5 boards and break them all.
Remember the gymnastics floor? I didn't. My first attempt my foot went over the top of all the boards. I fell on my back feeling like a fool. I laughed and picked myself up for my second attempt.
My second attempt was spot-on, but instead of powering my way through I snapped the kick and broke the last board, not all of them.
Master Yu stopped the test and told Mr. Roop to hand me a board and break it with my fist since it was the last board in the pile that I broke with my foot. That wasn't a problem. My adrenaline was so pumped that I broke that silly little 12x12 inch board with one pop of my fist.
Third attempt (and last attempt) I lined up and with everything I had and powered my way through all four boards. I landed with my left foot still cocked in the sword edge position. The floor absorbed my foot and didn't give me the time to land flat-footed. I went down.
The next thing I remember was Mr. Roop leaning over me and asking me a question. I said, "You want me to do what?" He said, "I asked you if you are o.k."
Nope. I wasn't. Bruce and another guy had to carry me off the floor. I couldn't stand up on my left leg. I refused to go to the hospital until the testing was over.
When I was finally diagnosed, I was supposed to go into the hospital as an out-patient for micro-surgery on my left knee to repair my ACL. They had to cut my knee on each side and completely re-attach my ACL. I woke up in a hospital bed with my leg in a cast from thigh to toes. Not fun. I had to stay three days.
Was it worth it? Oh, yeah. I love the martial arts.

Lucky the Skunk Dog

We lived in thi old farmhouse in the country for 6 years. During thi time we had a dog named Lucky. He was a big mutt that looked like a cross between a german shephard and a collie. He was also a big sweetheart. The only big problem we ever had with Lucky was his hate of skunks. He thought it was his job to rid our property of these stinky little creatures. Unfortunately, he often wore the 'scent' of his nemesis. Even tomato baths couldn't take the complete smell out of his thick fur.
One beautiful summer day my sister-in-law and I had a yard sale. It was quite successful. We had a lot of people stop by. Lucky loved people, so he was in heaven. I did notice, though, people would pay attention to Lucky then leave. Being busy, it took me a bit to notice that there was a sign on Lucky's neck. It said, "Scratch and sniff". Lucky wore that sign proudly.
I also noticed 3 of my boys hiding behind a bush giggling their socks off. O.K. Time to investigate. I called Lucky over and took the sign off from him. I patted his big head then realized a horrible 'skunk-like' smell waft up. The smell was on my hands from petting the dumb dog.
No wonder people left. Once they petted Lucky, they didn't have to sniff too long before they noticed the smell from their fingers. Skunk. And the smell didn't just wash off, either.

First Baby

Chris was born 2 weeks before my 19th birthday. I was so young. Bruce was so young. We had moved from a furnished apartment (furniture AND roaches) to an apartment above a hardware store in Athens, MI. No furniture - only walls painted a naty bruise purple.
It was late August when we moved from one second story apartment to another second story apartment. Bruce and I did the moving ourselves. Up one set of stairs, down them. Up another set of stairs, down them. All Saturday. The only furniture that we had at the time was a bed, T.V. and lawn chairs. Fortunately there were appliances in the apartment for us to use.
Sunday we had attended church - both sessions, had dinner and were watching T.V. when my back started to hurt. I wasn't due for 2 weeks, and according to my Dr., I was not going to give birth early.
My backaches were in spurts. Bruce thought he would be funny and time them. Darn, but they were getting closer together! We had no phone at the time. In today's world, expectant mothers are prepared for signs of birth. Not me. Not then. I had no idea what was going on. My Dr. was a small town general practitioner who didn't inform, just checked. Get this - I didn't even have his phone number!
When the pains got hard and started to radiate to the front of my body, Bruce talked me into getting into the car and we drove to a phone booth. It was after 11:00p.m.
I remember the conversation with the operator like it happened yesterday:
"Operator."
"I need to get the phone number for Dr. Stewart."
" I'm sorry, that number cannot be given out."
"I need that number. I think I'm having a baby."
"You THINK you're having a baby? You don't know?"
"No, I don't. I've never had one before, but I think I'm in labor."
"Just a minute."
The next thing I heard was Dr. Stewart's voice advising me to go to the hospital.
We got to the hospital and was admitted.
Poor Bruce. I was hollering so loud that his face turned ghostly white. I would put my hands on the top of my head and scream and he would gently take my hands off my head and try to comfort me. That was o.k. for a short while, then I had had enough! I punched him in the face.
Today we know that I had entered 'transition' and that no woman is sane during that time. Again, poor Bruce.
Dr. Stewart got there and in we went to the delivery room - the Dr., nurses and me - not Bruce. He had to wait in the father's waiting room. He was o.k. with that.
I had been given some medication, so the pain were tolerable. Dr. Stewart said I could watch the birth in the mirror if I wanted to. The mirror must have been at least 6 inches in diameter. I had a hard time seeing the mirror let alone what was being reflected.
My whole labor lated 2 and 1/2 hours when a sweet little baby was laid on my tummy. Dr. had used forceps, so he had two black eyes and a crooked nose. I didn't care. He was perfect in my eyes.
When I was wheeled out of the delivery room Bruce met me in the hallway before I was taken to recovery. He was still very upset. He saw the baby and was totally in shock. He was a father.
I was in heaven. The pain didn't matter any more. I had a beautiful baby boy.
It took Bruce over an hour to get home. He was so upset that he got lost. He had traveled this road for years, but that night everything was different. A new life, a changed life.

Sad, So Sad

While I was growing up, there were two times when my heart broke for my parents.
The first was when we took Sandy to Fort Cuter to live.
The second happened when my dad was building the house. I had gone to Detroit with my friend Karen for 2 weeks. Well, the first week Karen's family picked me up in their big winnabego to go square dancing. Karen wouldn't go with them unless I could go. Then we all went back to Detroit. I stayed another week then took the bus home.
When my parents picked me up at the bus stop, no one was talking. For my father, this wasn't unusual, but the rest of us talked all the time. Mom silently shook her head at me when I asked how the house was going. We had to pass the house on our way back to the farm house where we lived.
My dad - and mom - worked for months digging out the basement (with a backhoe for the biggest part, then by hand for the depth and corners ), having cement poured for the floor then putting concrete blocks up for the walls. The floor had been set and a bit of the frame up when I left for my vacation with Karen.
It had rained steadily for a week. The rain undermined the dirt behind the blocks and one wall caved. Half of the floor fell and some of the frame.
My poor family. All that hard work! The money was hard to come by. They had to get a loan that took longer than expected. We were running out of food when the money finally came in.
Daddy had allotted the cost for each part of the house. Now, a big chunk of money was gone.
I never saw my parents look so defeated in my life. They had faced a lot of difficulties and came out on top before. This time, I was worried. They were depressed while deciding whether to go on or call it quits.
Finally it was decided to hire someone to pour concrete walls and build on.
The outcome was a beautiful home they lived in for years.

Dan and Friend

When I was about 7 years old, my brother, Dan had a friend (I will not mention his name to protect, well, me) who had a hard time getting a date. Dan, on the other hand, had no problem getting date. This friend would pay for the date if Dan could get them both a date and they would double. This friend (I'll call him 'Bob'.) had a serious crush on a girl (I'll call her Sue.). Bob asked Dan to get a double date going with Sue for him and whoever Dan wanted for himself. No problem. The date was set up and carried through. The problem occured when Sue decided she liked Dan better than Bob. Bob knew thi and felt Dan 'tole' his girl.
Bob came over to our house late one night. When Bob rang the doorbell, my mom answered. Bob aked to speak to Dan. Mom knew right away there was something wrong. Dan spoke to Bob for a minute then asked Mom to turn off the backyard lights. He also asked that we ignore anything that we heard from the backyard.
Mom and I could hear grunts and crashes, but we didn't get involved. No police were called. Mom didn't go screaming into the night about her baby getting beat up. (Did I mention that Dan was 5'5" and Bob was over 6' with probably 80 pound on Dan?)
After not too long Dan came into the houee and Bob left. That was it. Dan and Bob got it off their chests, didn't involve anyone else. A few bruises and little blood and things were good again.
I wish things could be handled that simply today.

Roberto/Roberta

I think I mentioned that we had owned a macaw. He was absolutely beautiful. He had long blue and yellow tail feathers and bright red feathers on his back. His face was mostly blue. He had an attitude befitting a hungry wolverine. He knew everyone except my dad was afraid to touch him. Mom could pet him a little bit, but Daddy could get him on his arm and walk around with the dumb bird. Roberto had a perch he stayed on. Every once in a while he'd fall off and someone would have to lift him back up to his perch. (Not me - oh, no!)
Roberto would whisper in the dark. No words, just whiper, whisper, whisper.
One night Bruce brought me home from a date. My family were all in bed sleeping, so the house was dark. We silently came in the front door and were standing there saying our good-byes. We heard 'tap, tap, tap' then right next to us in the dark someone was whispering. From the floor. Scared the crap out of both of us! I realized that stupid bird had fallen off his perch sometime before we had come home and he was joining us. Bruce bid a hasty farewell (very tall chicken!!!!). I was left in the dark with a nasty parrot with a beak that could break femurs.
I did the only thing that I could do. I woke my mom up so she could take care of that obnoxious bird.
By the way, a few years after we got Roberto, he laid an egg. He was called Roberta from then on.

Thomas

When we lived in that horrid farmhouse, my oldest brother, Dan, left his pregnant siamese cat with us. She had her babies and we kept one. We named him Thomas. He was a beautiful lilac point siamese.
One afternoon my dad was home for lunch from building the house. We had eaten, Daddy was reading the newspaper, Mom was cleaning off the top of the refrigerator and I had my arms full of clean clothes to take up to my room. (See, I was so traumatized I remember exactly where the main players in this little drama were.)
Mom heard Thomas at the door wanting to get in. She got off her chair and opened the door. In trotted Thomas with his prize firmly held in his mouth - until Mom screamed. Daddy dropped the paper and I came back to the kitchen to see what had happened. Mom was climbing back up on her chair. "Snake! Thomas brought a snake into the house!", she screamed. Well that startled poor Thomas enough that he dropped the snake. The snake took off as fast as it could slither, probably thinking that it had entered snake hell.
I took off for the stairway that had a door that would shut - except in my panic I dropped a pair of socks that stopped the door from closing. I actually had to reach to the floor (The snake was on the floor - somewhere.) and pick up the socks. I did and slammed the door shut.
From here I have to repeat what I was told because I had hi-tailed it up the stairs to my bedroom with another shut door between me and the evil serpent.
Daddy tried to get the snake, but it headed for cover - under the couch. Daddy made Mom come down from the top of the refrigerator to hold up one end of the couch so he could get the snake. What a woman! She did it. However, Thomas wasn't about to let anyone have his prize. Mom had to put the couch down and toss Thomas out of the house so they had a clear shot at the slimy creature. Up went the couch again and this time Daddy got a hold of the snake. It was just a garden snake, but in my eyes it was a cobra or boa constrictor or at least a rattle snake.
From that day on the door was not automatically opened at Thomas cry. He had to be checked out before he came in.

Culture Shock

I grew up in Detroit. Big city. When I was almost 17, my family moved out to the country. My dad and my uncle were going to build houses and become millionaires. Meanwhile, my parents, little sister, June, and baby brother, Ted, moved into a horrible little farmhouse next to the property where they were going to build.
In Detroit there was a streetlight right in front of our house. We lived on a street that was the emergency entrance to a hospital. There was always traffic on our street. We had neighbors that you could actually see when you looked out your window. I could walk to the store - any store. I could either take a city bus to school or save the bus fare and walk. All my friends were there. Most importantly, my boyfriend was there.
My mom and I had a lot of fun planning out where things would go in our new home. Reality then struck. The room I was going to have was so small that a single bed and my dresser fit, but you couldn't open the drawers to the dresser. I cried myself to sleep that night then dreamed of my beautiful room in Detroit.
The nights were completely black. And there were BATS! The only thing I knew about bats was that they turned you into vampires. When I looked out my window, I saw trees and land and fields full of harvest. I saw flowers and cows and pigs (smelled them, too) and a mean rooster. No human life. And nasty snakes!!! I hate snakes!!!
There were no stores within walking distance. There were no buses to ride to the stores.
My parents did everything in their power to make me happy. They went to the grain store and bought some ducks. The ducks refused to go to the pond to swim. My mom, my dad and I each picked up a duck and walked to the small pond not far away. I got pooped on. And the ducks followed us back to the house.
Both my mom and dad worked on the house they were building. My uncle didn't keep his end of the bargain up very well. I stayed home and tended June and Ted when Mom was helping my dad. When Mom wuld come hime to cook dinner she'd send me over to tell Daddy to come home. The stupid rooster would come running after me flapping his wings and making horrid noises. I tried to kick that dumb rooster, but never made any contact, so I would run. My mom watched out the kitchen window and got her entertainment.
After school started I got into the groove of life in the country. I got to know the kids in the area and absolutely loved my little high school in Tekonsha.

Kisses

I was sound asleep on this blissful Saturday morning. No alarm clock, no work to get ready for, no real agenda for the day. I was awoken by sweet little kisses on my cheek. After nearly 38 years of marriage, he still - oh, wait. It was the dog waking me up to feed her and take her out to do her potty. I knew those kisses were too wet for my old man.
I sat up, put my slippers on and walked on tired legs to my bathroom. I had closed the door, prepared myself for business at hand when the door opened. In strolled the cat. I shooed him out (I do a solo in the bathroom). He left, I tried to reach the door to close it and in walked Ozzie. I shooed him out. It was the cat posse coming to make sure I was up and able to open that can of Friskees.
Everyone had been fed, Abbie did her potty and I listlessly wandered back to my bed. I looked over at Bruce, my sleeping husband, and thought, "Don't even think of waking me up with kisses! I'll rip your lips off."
Not to worry. He was sound asleep.

How I Met My Husband

My very first job that actually took taxes out of my paycheck was working in a nursing home. My best friend - Mary Hazen - in the whole world's mother was a midnight nurse at this particular home. Mary and I both applied to be nurses aides. I got the job but Mary got a job in the housekeeping department. SO much smarter!!!!!
We worked there for a two weeks before I saw this very tall skinny guy walking behind a food cart looking over the top of it. He was about 6,4", had blue eyes and short blond hair. He looked like a missionary. (Now I giggle over that impression!!!)
We didn't really talk to each other because we were both kind of shy. And I also thought he was dating another nurses aide. At least she acted that way. (Later he admitted to kissing her in the laundry room - that irrepressible rascal.)
Finally he asked me if I would like a ride home from work the next day. I couldn't say 'yes' fast enough. He drove a 1965 grabber blue ford falcon. However, this day he borrowed his dad's red 1959 MG. What a ride!
After that first ride, he took me home quite often. Then he asked me out for a date. Our first date was to a drive-in theater. The movie was Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant".
We dated 5 months before we got married. We've been married for almost 38 years now. Sometimes it has been tough, but anything worth anything takes work. And it definately has been worth it.

Sad

Sometimes I am so sad. Not today. Today I can talk about it. But there have been days when I just can't even get dressed in the mornings. There are days where the only thing I accomplish is literally getting out of bed. Two days ago I sat in my chair and just cried. Why? Well, there are secrets that cannot be exposed on a public sight.
I haven't been able to go many places lately. I'm afraid that people are looking down on me bacause I'm fat, or old or my hair looks stupid. Anything. I talked to my Bishop and he suggested going to a councelor. I have an appointment. I hope that works.
Bruce has been my rock. He has heard the worst about me and still loves me. Incredible. My boys have said they still love me, too. I don't know why.
I miss my grandchildren. It's a constant ache in my soul. I miss my children. I am such a failure for not being able to keep my family together.
I think the reason I love my pets so much is that they stay with me unconditionally. They love me. All I have to do is feed them and give them a scratch on the tummy. My little Ozzie sits on my knee most of the day and lays on my pillow at night. I wonder if he knows I'm sad? And Abbie gives me kisses. She sleeps between Bruce and I every night.
I want so much to be able to be happy with myself again. I want to be able to hold my head up and not worry what other people are thinking about me.
I want my family.

Martial Arts

I took a journalism class at Utah Technical College (now Salt Lake Community College) where we had to find an interesting story on campus. It was a very small campus and it was a full class. I went to the student union building and noticed a flier about karate classes. The classes were $5.00 a class. I decided that I didn't really know much about karate exept that my oldest brother had taken classes in Detroit (where they eat the weak).
I interviewed the instructor at the next karate class. While I was there, I noticed two women smacking each other around then helping each other up and acting like nothing happened!!! I observed small children, women and men hitting and kicking the air. I was SO impressed!!
The article I wrote was about how health beneficial karate was. I didn't really understand what was going on.
Anyway, I was so fascinated that I enrolled in that first karate class. The style was Chinese - Chua Fa Ssu Ren. I think. It was so long ago. The instructor was a return missionary. His wife also took and helped teach classes. She was a lot of fun.
Chinese styles are more acrobatic than most other martial arts. The instructor (I can't remember this poor guys name) decided to teach us how to do front flips. He layed down on his back with his knees bent and his arms extended straight up from the floor. The students were to run to the instructor and put their hands in his, push off with their feet and he would help them flip over him. I'm a chicken if it has anything to do with flipping, so I decided to stand on the sideline with the wife. We watched student after student doing exactly what was intended - until this one woman came running. She was very well endowed. She ran up to the instructor, bent over to put her hands in his and push off with her feet. She missed his hands. This poor return missionary- newly married man had two hands full of very large boobs as the woman landed face down on him.
I don't remember anything more of that class. The wife and I were just about hanging on each other while gales of laughter flew around this little room. We both had tears streaming down our faces while the poor instructor and student were red faced.

Silly Putty vs Real Egg

Pepe loved raw eggs. He didn't get too many of them, so when he got one it was a real treat. He would take the egg to the wall and gently tap it until a small crack would appear. He would put his fingernails into the crack and seperate the shell enough to start sucking the egg white out. Then came the true treat - the yolk! The whole time he was eating the egg he was making the cutest little chirping noise.
Dennis wondered what Pepe would do with the silly putty egg. It was made of bright blue and red plastic. We all (Dennis, my mom and myself) stood and watched when Dennis gave Pepe the fake egg.
Pepe didn't know it was fake, so he went to the wall and tried to open it. He tapped, tapped the egg but it didn't crack. He hit the egg against the wall a little harder. No crack. He tried for several minutes to crack open this egg. Finally he backed up a couple of feet and threw the silly putty egg with all his might against the wall. It broke open. Pepe ran to it and licked the insides to get his precious egg. He wasn't chirping.
We were all giggling, but Dennis felt so bad about fooling Pepe that he gave him a real egg. Pepe backed up and threw that real egg with all his might against the wall.
Egg yolk ran down the wall! Pepe ran to the wall and licked as fast as he could to get the yummy stuff.
We were howling with laughter. Until my mom informed Dennis he had a mess to clean up.

Wierd Pets II

I really need to write a bit more about our monkey, Pepe. I was only 7 or 8 years old when we had him, but some things are vivid in my memory.
My brothers were so excited that they wanted to start taming this little cutie right away. Step one: put a collar on him so they could take him out of the cage. Step two: re-think step one!
Dan and Dennis both put on 2 pair of leather gloves and reached into the cage with the collar. That little guy could scream! He also had 5 available weapons with which to do battle. He hung by his tail and fought with his 4 paws and teeth. It was quite a battle, but Dan and Dennis were supreme - the gloves were no longer usable, but that little guy had a collar on! Whew!
Our family finally got the trust of Pepe. Dennis used to put him on his chain, have Pepe sit on his shoulder and walk around the block. One day our neighbor came over to collect her daughter from playing. Dennis opened the door with Pepe on his shoulder. Mrs. Fischer took a step back, then was openly amazed by this cute little guy (Pepe - not Dennis). Then Pepe pooped down Dennis's back. Mrs. Fischer had a disgusted look on her face when she collected Mary Ellen.
Trust and bowel control are not necessarily inclusive.

Helper

Stephen often helps his dad. Stephen also has been damaged by his dad while helping. Now Stephen protects whatr haas been previously damaged.

Wierd Pets

My dad never liked normal pets. He grew up in the country where animals had to contribute - cats caught mice and dogs herded and protected. Anyway, the pets we had were not merely house pets. Oh, no. Not in the Guile house.
Our pets ranged from 3 orphaned piglets to a red fox to a capuchen ring-tailed monkey to a macaw parrot. There were a couple of cats, dogs, goldfish, turtles, birds and guinea pigs thrown in also. (Mom threatened us with death if a snake were ever brought in - not just the death of the snake, either.)
The monkey was probably the most interesting pet we ever had - and the most challenging. My folks went to Bwana Don's pet shop in Detroit and bought the cutest little monkey named Pepe you've ever seen. Looks can be deceiving. Never judge a book by it's cover. Etc., etc., etc.
Mom and Daddy kept the monkey in his cage in their bedroom until Christmas morning. They locked the door so no one could get in. They bought 10 pounds worth of bananas to keep Pepe happy. He hated bananas. That should have been an insight for the 6 months to come.
Christmas morning came, the monkey was presented to my older brothers, Dan and Dennis, and a new world opened up in the Guile household. A world of laughter, confusion, stinky monkey smells, screams...you name it and this little monkey could cause it.
I have stories to tell about this little critter that could keep everyone in stitches, but blogs aren't supposed to be long, so I'll keep quiet for a little - hold you in suspense (LOL!!!).

Apologies

There was a lady in my church one day who said, "I don't apologize. People who know me know that I don't have a mean bone in my body."
I wish I had opened my mouth then, but I sat stunned in silence - or maybe stunned TO silence.
I can't remember a day that has gone by that I haven't apologized for something. I am so far from perfect that I need at least the sense of humility to save my repentent soul.
In The Dialogues of Plato, Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living."
I guess it would be very easy to go through life feeling that apologies are unnecessary or signs of weakness. And then there are those who apologize at the drop of a hat, but are insincere.
True apologies cleanse the soul, clears the air and allows God's spirit to reside within you. Humility is the base for apologies. The scriptures are rife with references to humility and to where it leads. It leads to opening up your true self to great influences instead of depending on yourself to know what's right and wrong.
The history of our civilization shows the inability of human nature to make good decisions without the influence of God. And God will not communicate with people who refuse to be humble.
I wish we could all examine our lives and allow ourselves to be humbled enough to merely apologize.

Shorts

Here are some quicky - quirky - things that are lots of fun. At least I thought it was fun at the time!
...going to the car wash with your son who just returned from Afghanistan and lowering his side window as we are pulled into the wash...hearing him scream like a girl
...knowing as soon as you hear your husband say "uh, oh" as he's leaning out your sister's second story window that his glasses fell off his face...all the way to the ground
...watching your cute little siamese cat play hide-n-seek with your son, getting startled and running head first into the wall (turn left he would have been down the hallway - turn right and the wall intercepted his skull at full run)
...sitting in your car at a 7-11 and watch some poor schmuck walk out with his hands full of slurpy's trip, do a summersault and sit up unhurt. I gave him a '9' out of '10' for style and originality
...hearing your newborn baby cry and not be able to find him...until you look under the cushion on the couch where his older brother put him

Sandy

I have an older sister named Sandy. She's 4 years older than I. She's also a very special person. Sandy was severly retarded. Tests weren't done at birth back then, so our parents didn't know for 100% sure that she was handicapped until she was nearly two years old. She was more content by herself.
Sandy was not the sweet Downs Syndrome child. She was stubborn, a loner and would only let our father cuddle her.
Our house in Detroit had a screened in sun porch. That room was Sandy's favorite place to be. We had a large spring horse out there and a glider. Sandy loved that horse. She would sit and rock back and forth and sing to herself a wordless la, la, la, tune.
One summer day I happened to walk by the door to the sunroom and I saw Sandy crying. Silent tears were going down her face. Her head was lowered as if in shame. This was not the way my sister acted. I went out to see what was going on. About three feet away from the screen on the other side of a fence was a group of neighborhood children taunting her. They were calling her names. They were mocking her. She could sense that she was different from them. She could sense that she was the object of their meanness.
I took Sandy by her hand and got her off the horse. I then took her back into the house and closed the door. I was only 12 but had never felt such a cold feeling in my soul as I had felt that day. How could these children be so mean!?!
I don't remember anything else about that day, but I remember how much I loved my sister and how much I wanted to protect her from the 'normal' people of the world.
At the beginning of this post I used confusing grammer that I will explain. Sandy IS my sister, although she passed away in 1997. I believe in a continuation of life beyond the grave. We will always be a family because we were sealed as a family in the Holy Temple.
I said she WAS retarded. In the next life we will be restored to perfection. Sandy is now perfect. She no longer has the retardation that protected her from tests in this world. I know she will attain the highest degree of glory and be with our Father. I believe she is now teaching those who have not had the opportunity to hear the true gospel.

Extreme Bike Riding

When my husband was a teenager he and a friend went bike riding. One bike, two kids. Bruce's friend owned the bike, so Bruce rode on the handle bars. The friend had to do all the work while Bruce got a free ride - until instead of aiming his knee to the outside of the handle bars his knee came straight up. Into Bruce's kiester. This errant knee shot quickly up and knocked Bruce right off the front of the bike. He sprawled face down, spread eagle on the sidewalk. That was bad enough, but the friend wasn't quick enough to stop the bike and he rode up and over Bruce.
When Bruce told me this story we had only been married for a few months. My mind's eye is so vivid that I could literally see this happening - and I laughed until I cried.
It's a good thing the bike kept rolling over Bruce - otherwise it may have gotten stuck you-know-where! An alternative to a metal bike rack.

Family History

A few years ago Bruce and I worked on a labor of love that took most of a year. We collected stories, edited, got photos and included a complete genealogy line on both of my parents (going back to the 1500's on both lines). Bruce is a wizard on the computer (this is before programs were available to put books together) and copied, pasted and did whatever else was necessary to make 11 books. We took the pages in and had Kinko's bind each book.
What makes this book so wonderful is not the work that Bruce and I did (June also ran down some difficult photos for the book), but the precious stories that my mom and dad wrote about their childhoods.
Times are so different now than when they grew up. Times were so much simpler then. It was during the depression, but neither of them realized that they were poor. They may have lacked money, but they were rich in friends, family and ceativity.
What I particularly love about these stories are the feelings that they included with the stories. I could glimpse back into their lives and see how they grew up and why they feel the way they do about certain things.
This book is history. This book is a lesson for the future. This book is proof to me as to how wonderful my mon and dad are.

Laughs

My very favorite thing to do in the entire world is to laugh! Not giggle, not titter, no silent guffaws for me. No - belly laugh until I cry is what I love to do. And coming from the family that I do, well, let's just say it's a good thing. We love to laugh. Every once in a while I'll post somthing that happened that was funny. Hang on for the ride.
Growing up in Detroit, there weren't that many opportunities to swim. Once a year, on Daddy's vacation, we'd go to Metro Beach. My mom couldn't wait to tell me how she coould out-swim me, out-float me, hold her breath longer than I could...and she could! Mom grew up on Goguac Lake in Battle Creek. She swam every day that she could.
One time when I was sixteen our family was invited to go to a cabin that my Uncle Charles and Aunt Gladys had rented. It was on a lake in Coldwater, MI.
I was the last to change into my bathing suit, so everyone was at the lake waiting for me. No one had noticed me coming out of the cottage. Luck was smiling on me - my mom was standing at the end of the pier looking into the lake. I snuck up behind and pushed her as hard as I could into the water. Ha! Finally a chance to be a step ahead of her at the water!
But she didn't surface. Grandma, Uncle Ronnie, Uncle Charles, Aunt Gladys, my dad and I were all looking where my mom had gone in. I was starting to get scared!
Then she surfaced. And went back down. She was down for a while again. She came up and went down several times. Finally, she had worked her way to the edge of the water and ran out and into the cabin.
I was so worried that I had hurt my mom. Daddy said he would go into the cabin to make sure she was fine. He came out about ten minutes later to a very silent family. He said, "She's fine. I'm not so sure about the fish, though."
He wouldn't say anything else, so when Mom came out of the cabin, we asked her. She was not a happy camper and wouldn't answer any questions.
On the way home, Daddy finally explained what Mom had sworn him to secrecy to at the cabin. When I hit Mom in the back with my hands it surprised her so much she opened her mouth. And her dentures fell out into the lake. With her. She found her dentures after a few scary moments, ran into the cabin to clean them off and swore my father to secrecy in front of the rest of the family. She said she wasn't about to leave her teeth in the lake!
Daddy said the fish all scattered because her teeth kept moving even though they fell out of her mouth. They thought pirannha had invaded!
The only time I thought I could get ahead of mom, I put the wildlife in danger.

God's Eyes

Bruce and I were baptistry workers in the Detroit Temple for quite a while. We worked mostly with youth between the ages of 12 and 18. These kids came from all walks of life to do baptisms - to serve and do what God has asked of us.
Bruce and I would greet the kids before they entered the baptistry. The kids from Rochester, Bloomfield Hills and the wealthier wards would come dressed in their Sunday best. The girls wore lovely dresses and the boys had suits on. Then the kids from the poorer wards woould come in. They also came in their Sunday best, but their Sunday best was not the same as the richer wards. Some came in blue jeans and pull-over shirts.
After we welcomed the guests, we sent them to change from their street clothes into the white jumpsuits the temple provided for the youth to be baptized in. It was such a transformation! The youth were all the same. No longer did it matter if they bought their clothes at K-Mart or Parisian. It didn't matter if their parents owned $800,000. homes or their single mothers rented an apartment. It didn't matter if they rode the bus or had moms who drove them everywhere.
What truly mattered is that they were there. No matter how. No matter from where. Their sweet countenances shone when they did the baptisms and confirmations. Their smiles and sometimes tears of joy did not have a price tag.
After the ordinances were done, the kids changed back into their clothes and went back to their lives - hopefully more enriched from the sacred experience they had just had.
I believe the next life will be like this - we will all be equal in things that are not important. We achieve in spirit not mortality. Our Father loves us for our service and our love for each other - not what we wear or where we live.
The temple is a piece of heaven here on earth. All the same - all loved and all serve each other and God.
On a more earthly note...The youth were all wonderful. The rich, middle class and poor were on the inside just kids. Having money is not a bad thing. Being poor is not a bad thing. It just is. I'm not making judgements on money. I'm trying to impress what is important in spirit.

Wow!

I went to Michaels craft store today to get some embroidery floss. When I came out, I noticed a piece of paper tucked under my windshield wiper. I looked around and saw that I was the only one who had a piece of paper on my windshield. I also noticed that the paper was not a flier but a piece of notebook paper.
"Uh oh." I thought. "Did someone hit my car? Did I park poorly and someone was giving me a piece of their mind?"
I opened the note and it said: "I couldn't help but notice all the veterans stickers on your 'civilian vehicle' - God Bless you & thank you for your unselfish service for our country!" (smiley face) the grateful Daughter of a WWII vet!"
My heart swelled. I felt so muchh pride for my son who feels veterans are looked down upon. He served for 10 years in the army - and one rotation in Afghanistan.

Alone Again

It has been a busy week with June, Jarrod, Sarah and Bentley the dog from Monday to Thursday then Rob, Sara, Raef, Brady and Kaylee from Thursday to Saturday. We've gone to the Holocaust Museum to the zoo to multiple stores to having the neighborhood yard sales ALL IN ONE WEEK!
I've never felt so blessed in my life. We talked, laughed and even complained a little. We renewed old ties and built new ones.
I remember June's children from when they were born and now they're close to being grown. Sarah has turned out to be a beautiful young woman. Jarrod is a strapping young man with a great sense of humor. Michaela was at girl's camp this week, but she is adorable.
Our grandchildren, Raef, Brady and Kaylee are precious. I see life and the future in them. I see all things positive. I see hope, compassion, fun, service and everything wonderful. I am SO blessed to have Rob and Sara in my life to bring their incredible children over for me to watch grow and flourish.
Again, I am blessed.