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.

Sister Angels

We hadn't lived in Rochester, Mi., very long when we met 2 sister missionaries. I'm not sure, but I think their names were Sister Severston and Sister Hess. They were both very pretty young women.
I went with them a few times to visit people and I took them shopping or on other errands. They called Bruce quite often for blessings. We both felt that Sister Severston was close to being a daughter to us.
One day they came over for lunch and asked if I could make hem a couple of jumpers. They had to wear dresses every day except Monday. We went shopping and they bought their material. We had enough to make them 3 jumpers each. With the leftover material, my daughter made them tie quilts for their beds.
Sister Severston was from sunny California and not used to our Michigan winters. Her mom bought her a long, warm coat. The Sister's had been out on their bikes proselyting when they saw a man with a sign. The sign read, "Will work for food". The Sisters approached him and learned that he had been out of work for a while and had a family to feed. He was wearing a thin jacket. Sister Severston took off her warm expensive coat and insisted that he take it.
They later came to my house. I asked Sister Severston where her coat was and she declined to tell me. Sister Hess told me.
This sweet sister gave away her warm coat to a poor unknown man. To me, this is the epitome of the scripture where Christ said (paraphrased) if someone asks you for your cloak give him your cloak also. And he didn't even ask. She saw a need and met it.
I pray these sweet sisters have had wonderful blessed lives.

Yellow Swimming Pool

I must have been about 8 or 9 years old when my parents bought a 2 foot pool for my sister and I. Our backyard was divided between grass and a cement patio. The grass was next to the house, then the patio on the other side of the grass. The pool was put on the patio.
Sandy loved water. We had a blow-up raft that she would lay on and float in our little pool for hours on end. She had a smile on her face the entire time she was in the pool. Maybe the water released her from her prison for a short while.
My parents had to put a latch lock too high for Sandy to reach on the screen door so she wouldn't just take off for the pool without any one's knowledge. She would get up in the middle of the night and wander the house sometimes, turning up the heat or even going outside. They had to put a cage on the thermostat.
My friend, Jo Jo and I swam in our little pool a lot, too. We would wade around and around until we had a current then float and let the current carry us. We also had breath-holding contests. We could do tricks under the water. That is until our neighbors decided that we were having too much fun. The girls next door would throw dirt and twigs in our pool. One day I got a nail stuck in my knee from them. And of course, the kids would line up on their side of the chain link fence that separated the yards and make fun of Sandy. Usually Sandy ignored them, but it was hard for us to ignore them. They were trying to hurt Sandy.
Right next door the family had a 5 foot pool that just about filled their entire backyard. They had dug down into the ground to make it even deeper. Behind us was another huge pool. There was nothing to be jealous of.
I think we enjoyed our little pool that one summer. It got too much to clean it every time we wanted to swim in it. Daddy took the pool and gave it to a young man at work who had a little boy.
The scriptures tell us we will reap what we sow. Sandy's gone now to Father's care. I wonder often about those mean spirited children.

Old Testament

I love the Old Testament. I love the stories, the lessons, the morals and the love that God has for His children. After reading the scriptures this morning, I thought about the ten commandments. I've seen some billboards with "They are not the ten suggestions.", which has given me pause for thought.
We've been given the gift of agency to choose, but we've been given 'commandments' which gives no room for choice - that is if you want to obey God's commandments.
"Thou shalt have no other gods before me." (Exodus 20:3) Sounds obvious, doesn't it? I guess it depends on who or what you worship. The money god, the football god, the party god, false prophets, the 'feel good' god, are the immediate gods that we choose to worship.
Whenever the children of Israel strayed from following God's lead they got into trouble. Whenever they worshipped a god besides the true God, they got into trouble.
Personally, I have enough issues trying to choose correctly. I will worship only God the Father. No other God's.
When Moses brought the commandments down, the children of Israel needed basic rules to follow. They had been in captivity for generations and had learned the ways of idol worship. I believe that some of us still need the basic rules to follow because the world today teaches idol worship - money, beauty, belongings, power. Not that any of those things are bad in and of themselves, but they become evil when placed above the teachings of God. They become evil when placed above family.
These commandments are so basic that I believe we must ponder them and their meanings - above and beyond the simplicity of the words in the scriptures.

Favorite Holidays

I had 2 holidays that I lived for when I was a kid; Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve. Thanksgiving took my mom 2 days to prepare for. The day before Thanksgiving she made of 4 pies, 2 pumpkin, an apple and a chocolate pie. She always made too much dough for the pies so we could make cinnamon rolls. I got to help with the cinnamon rolls. Then the morning of Thanksgiving I would wake up to smells that had to have come directly from heaven. the aroma from the pies were still there and turkey and homemade stuffing were added. Mom always made the turkey and stuffing because Grandma Guile was domestically challenged.
We'd pack up the car and get ready for the 2 hour drive to Grandma's house. I swear every time we drove the Southfield Freeway it was jammed and we had to listen to Daddy complain for the duration of the delay.
When I was little Uncle Wayne, Aunt Betty and their daughter Darlene were there. Uncle Charles, Uncle Ronnie, Grandpa Guile, Grandma Guile, Dennis, Danny, Mom, Daddy, Sandy and myself rounded out the clan. Sometimes Grandma's brother was there, but not often.
We all sat around the huge table in Grandma's kitchen. There was teasing, laughter and great food. One year the mashed potatoes were passed to me. I said, "I love Grandma's potatoes because they have lumps in them." Silence. mom had a smile on her face and changed the subject. How was I supposed to know there weren't supposed to be lumps in mashed potatoes?
We stayed for a few hours then packed up and went back home. It was a long trip, but we were still full from a great dinner and happy from the company.

Playing Doctor

I worry about old, old memories, so I talked to my mother about this one. And she said that, yes, it happened like this.
When I was about 4 years old our neighbors had a daughter a little younger than me. Her name was Debbie. She came over one day and we decided to play doctor. (Remember Mom had Sandy to tend to, so I was on my own a bit more than I should have been.) Debbie was the Dr. and I was the patient. Our hospital room was the bathroom. I was so sick that I had to be put to bed in the bathtub. Debbie got out medicine and started feeding it to me. Mom came in to check on us and saw a half empty aspirin bottle. Debbie had fed me half a bottle of 'medicine'. Being so young we had no idea how dangerous this was.
Debbie was sent home and Mom called the hospital. While she was on the phone, I started to vomit. And vomit. And vomit some more. The hospital told my mom that if I were vomiting, I would be fine.
That afternoon we went to my Aunt Patricia's house for a visit. I remember Mom laying me on Aunt Patricia's bed. I slept through the whole visit.
I never played Dr. again.

Grandma Clark

My mother's mother's name is Ida Mae McRoberts Seamans Pearson Davies Clark. She was born on a farm in Herman, Minnesota on June 3, 1896. She died October 29, 1974 in Battle Creek, Michigan.
I only saw Grandma Clark a couple of times a year. However, when I was 16 Grandma's 4th husband, J, was in the hospital. Grandma called my mother and asked if I could stay with her for a week so she wouldn't be alone. J had severe emphysema.
Grandma was supposed to have quit smoking because J was on oxygen. When I stayed with her, I could smell cigarette smoke but never saw Grandma smoking. Finally, I told her that she didn't need to hide if she was smoking. It was her home and I was a guest. She could do whatever she wanted. Boy, was she relieved. Out came the cigs. she made me promise not to tell my mother that she was smoking.
Grandma's home was a trailer in a nice little trailer park in Batle Creek. It was SO tiny. It had 2 bedrooms, but the 2nd bedroom was so small that a single bed and dresser filled it. I used the small bedroom. Under the bed was stacks of magazines. 'True Crime', 'Real Detective', , titles like that. Grandma said I could borrow some if I wanted to. I had never read such racey stuff in my life!
Grandma told me stories about Mom's father, Earl Seamans. I loved it. She said she had a choice between a farmer and Earl Seamans. The farmer was a steady man who could have given her a good life. Earl was a handsome man who wanted to go and do things. She chose Earl. Life on a farm - especially back then - was difficult.
I don't know why they moved to Battle Creek, but they struggled. They came with 4 children. Grandma said Grandpa was a flirt. He couldn't not look at other women. One time in their marriage Grandpa needed to make money, so he smuggled alcohol across the river from Canada to Detroit. It was prohibition. No one could legally buy alcohol.
They had 4 children -Luellyn Earl (Bus), Robert Charles, Marjorie Mae and Evelyn Pearl then Grandma got pregnant with my mother, Mildred Loretta before Grandpa died. Grandpa died from bone cancer.
Grandma gave birth to my mother 2 and a half months after Grandpa died. Alone. She married William Pearson in 1925 and buried Evelyn in 1927. Grandma had 2 more daughters, Yvonne and Patricia with Bill Pearson.
After Bill died, she married a man named Harold Davies who was abusive. She divorced him then married J. J was the nicest man. He was always friendly. He always had a smile. He and I both loved baseball. When J died, Grandma told us she was always sorry her grandchildren didn't call J grandpa.
When J got out of the hospital, he and Grandma drove me home. I seriously thought I was going to die. J drove down the middle of the road. I guess he figured he could choose where his half of the road was. I saw cars coming right at us. I finally laid down on the backseat and prayed that we not die. I'm not kidding about this.
I was so excited about the stories Grandma told me about my mom's dad that I told Mom. She got mad at me and told me her father never ran booze. I was not to mention that again. I didn't realize that my mom never knew her own father, but that she had probably put him on a pedestal. With one fell swoop I almost knocked him off that pedestal.
Grandma was 'spicey'. She used language that would make my dad blush. She said what she thought. She laughed loudly. I loved her so much. She was a brave survivor.
I miss her to this day.

Dennis

I haven't written much about my older brother, Dennis. He's 9 years older than me. He's blond and blue eyed. He's a very successful airplane restorer and mechanic. He's even had his picture along with one of his planes on the cover of an aviation magazine.
When Dennis was a teenager he was the opposite of Dan. Dan was curious and would take things apart. Dennis was organized and would put the things back together. Dan was a flirt. Dennis could care less about girls. He was into cars.
We had neighbors who had 4 girls. One was my best friend, Denise, and there were 2 older sisters and one younger one. The sister just older than Denise (Diane) had a crush on Dennis. She was forever at our house talking to Dennis.
If you wanted to find Dennis, just look in the driveway under the hood of his car - a yellow convertible. What kind I couldn't tell you, I was only 7 years old. I was told to never go near his car. Don't get into it, don't touch it, don't even look at it. I was the younger sister who lived to irritate my brothers.
One day Denise's older sister was talking to Dennis while he was working on his car. He was busy and did not want company. He told Diane to go home. She wouldn't. Dennis stopped what he was doing, threw Diane over his shoulder, stalked through the alley to her house and dumped her into their pool. Diane's father was there watching this take place. He didn't say one word.
Dennis was skinny, too. The only thing he had as a vice was bread. He would come into the house and grab two slices of bread then go back to his car.
My mother hated the word 'fart'. To her it was a crude word that was just a step above swearing. When Dennis would come in for his 'snack', Mom would ask him what he was doing. Over his shoulder on the way out of the house he would yell, "Just farting around." Then run like crazy to get out of ear shot. Mom would try to act like she was offended, but if you watched her, you could see she was trying to hide giggles.
I'll write more about Dennis another time.

Running Away

The hardest time of my life when growing up was when I was 11 years old. I'm sure puberty had a big part in my attitude, but at the same time my mother was pregnant with my sister, June. Mom was 40 years old and expecting her 5th child. Sandy had just gone away to a home for the mentally retarded (mentally challenged, these days). It was not an easy time for my family.
I felt as though my mother didn't like me at all. She didn't smile at me. She didn't joke around and it seemed as though I did nothing right. She seemed to be mad all the time.
One evening my parents went bowling. Actually, they were on a league and bowled once a week and practiced 2 other nights. I was all alone at home. It had been another bad day between my mom and I. I called my best friend, Debbie Wedes, and asked if I could stay with her. I told her I was running away and needed a place to stay. She was in. She didn't tell her folks because they would have ratted me out.
I packed a suitcase and walked the almost mile at night to Debbie's house. However, I didn't want my parents to worry when they came home and found me gone. I left a note telling them where I was.
I got to Debbie's and about an hour later the phone rang. Debbie's mom handed me the phone with a withering look. Oops. All I heard was 'we're coming to get you. Be outside waiting', or something to that affect.
The car pulled up in front of Debbie's house. I opened the door to get in and Daddy was driving - not Mom. Trouble. The drive was silent for a few minutes then Daddy asked me what I thought I was doing. I told him my side of the story, then he spoke. He said he couldn't believe that I could feel that way about my mother. She had been willing to give her life to bring me into this world. My mother took care of me every day. My mother would do whatever needed to be done to keep me safe. My mother loved me and I had better never forget it. He was amazed that I could feel the way I did. I was also told I had to apologize to my mom for worrying her.
I remember crying and apologizing, then going to my room.
As I grew older, my mother and I have become friends. Not only am I grateful that she brought me into the world, fed me and clothed me, I'm grateful for the times we laughed together. I'm grateful for the example she has set for me. I'm grateful that she wasn't afraid to be my mother and not my 'pal' when I was growing up. And I will be eternally grateful for my father backing my mother. There was no 'divide and conquer' there. They were a solid guiding force in my life and I pray that they love me half as much as I love them.

Gremlin vs Bowling Ball

My parents wanted to go on a trip to Washington D.C. with a group from church. They had asked me to come and spend the night with June and Ted. Bruce stayed with our kids and I slept on their couch. However, this is not even part of this incredible story.
June and I took our parents to Jackson, Mi and waited with them until the bus picked them up then went home to Eckford.
Ted was a bowler. He was a good bowler, too. On this fateful day, Ted had bowled poorly.
June picked Ted up from the bowling alley after we got home from Jackson. Ted was in a bad mood because of his bowling. I thought I could lighten his outlook by telling him to do what Daddy does when he bowls poorly - punish his bowling ball by leaving it outside.
Ted thought that was a good idea, so he put his bag with ball inside of it just inside the garage.
Later that night, I was to drive the Lincoln and June was to follow me in the Gremlin to Jackson to drop off a car so Mom and Daddy could come home without us having to wait for them. They didn't want their daughters waiting in an abandoned parking lot close to a federal prison.
I got into the Lincoln which was parked in the driveway behind the Gremlin which was in the garage. I had not driven this car before. June got into the Gremlin. I started my car, June started hers. I put my car in reverse, June put hers in reverse. My car started to back out of the driveway, June's didn't. I could hear the tires of the Gremlin trying to get purchase but the car didn't budge. June was stomping on the gas too get it to move, but the only thing happening was the smoke from tires that didn't quite have enough tread on the floor to make the car move. I stopped my car and wondered what was going on. Then I noticed something under the Gremlin's bumper rolling back and forth, back and forth. It was Ted's bowling ball!
I tried to honk the horn, but I couldn't find it. It was not located in the center of the steering wheel. I tried pushing on the wheel itself, but no honk happened. By this time I'm starting to giggle at the sight of that bowling ball rolling around under the bumper.
I could hear June yelling in frustration at the car not moving. I decided to get out of my car and tell her what was going on. I couldn't find the door handle! Nothing. No horn and no door handle. I'm laughing now uncontrollably.
I saw June put the car in gear, get out, slam the door and stomp back to where I was sitting in my car. She yanked the door open and I just about spilled out because I was laughing so hard. When I gained control of myself, we went to the Gremlin and saw that , sure enough, Ted's bowling ball was stuck under the bumper. It was just tall enough to keep the Gremlin from being able to move.
We couldn't believe it! Next to the rear bumper was the bag the ball was squirted out of. The back tire had caught a corner of the bowling bag and squished it until the ball popped out. There was a perfect half-moon tear in the bag.
I went inside and got Ted. We made him lift the bumper so we could get the ball out from under the bumper. I told him to please hide the bag and ball until we could tell Mom and Daddy the net day.
June and I delivered the Gremlin to Jackson. We got home, Ted was in bed, June went to bed and I slept on the couch. I wasn't really asleep when Mom and Daddy came in, but I pretended to be. I knew they were tired, so I didn't bother them with a 'hello'. I heard Mom go into her bedroom then say, "What in the world! What happened to the bowling ball!"
My brilliant brother hid the ball in Mom and Daddy's bedroom. Mom almost tripped over it.
The next day the story came out that Ted had punished his ball, but put it too close to the Gremlin and the tire crushed the bag until the ball popped out and rolled under the bumper so June couldn't get the car too move and the ball kept rolling back and forth... yada, yada, yada.

P.S. The horn was located in the steering wheel, but to activate it, you had to squeeze the wheel. The door handle was a tiny pull that was located forward. I was used to big handles right next to driver. What a night!

Dan and the Cookie Sheet

It was around 1961. Dan, my oldest brother, had gotten a report card that was not up to my father's expectations. His punishment was 4 hours of homework a night (even if you didn't have homework - my dad was certain there was something he could do to improve his grades), no television, phone calls or friends until the weekend. Dan was a social butterfly, so this was particularly hard on him.
This particular evening Dan was sitting at the table in the breakfast nook off the kitchen. He had his school work spread out in front of him. Mom and I were in the kitchen. Mom was doing the dishes and I was trying to help - in my mind at least. And Dan was complaining. As usual.
"All you ever want to do is crucify me!", was the phrase that made my mom flip. She was drying a cookie sheet when she charged into the breakfast nook and hit Dan over the head with said cookie sheet.
After the sound of tin hitting hard head, there was complete silence. I was stunned. Then I started to cry because I thought my mother had killed my brother. Mom was surprised that she had hit Dan and Dan was amazed that she had hit him with the cookie sheet.
Then they both started to laugh. Dan was unhurt (remember the 'hard head' comment?) but the cookie was bent. It looked as though someone had been hit over the head with it.
Go figure.
I don't remember anything more about that evening, but years later the tale of the cookie sheet reared it's ugly head. Dan was leaving for his mission in Argentina. The whole family had been asked to speak in Sacrament Meeting. I spoke first, then Mom, Daddy and Danny. When Danny got up he pulled the cookie sheet out of its hiding place under the podium and proceeded to tell the congregation about how my mother tried to kill him via cookie sheet. It was still bent in the shape of Dan's head. The congregation laughed while Mom tried to sink into her chair.
Dan explained how grateful he was to parents who demanded good things from him. He was also grateful for the discipline he was given. He realized that it's easier for parents to ignore rather than to act. And sometimes the action required was radical. He was unhurt by the cookie sheet but Mom gained his attention.
Dan has turned out to be a successful, happy man married to his college sweetheart and parent to 8 children. He has a degree in teaching and is a translator for the army. The cookie sheet incident has long ago been dismissed, but the lesson learned was eternal.

Roller Skates

All the kids in my neighborhood had roller skates. Today's kids would die laughing if they were told they had to use these skates. They were so simple. There were 4 metal wheels under a metal platform. This platform was as wide as a shoe and could be adjusted to the length of the shoe. These skates were made to last forever, then hand down to your little brother or sister. On the back of the platform was a curved metal backing that fit the back of the shoe. A leather strap threaded through the back plate and buckled around the ankle. There were two clamps at the front of the platform that clamped around the soles of the shoe. Then there was the most important part of the skate - the skate key. This key was used to lock in the adjustment on the length of the skate and to move the clamps inward to trap the sole of the shoe and lock it.
Those skates were golden (they were really silver metal) in the summer. A bunch of kids would strap those skates on, put the skate key on a string (or ribbon if your mom had any available and you were a girl - shoe strings worked, too.) that dangled from their neck, and take off as fast as they could down the street. Laughing and yelling with the enthusiasm that only happy kids can generate.
I can't tell you how many pairs of cheap sneakers I burned through on a summer with those skate clamps. The soles would be ripped right off the shoes. I would go home and show my mom the shoes. She would let me know how unhappy she was that I ruined another pair of shoes then get the glue out. She'd glue the sole to the shoe. That lasted maybe a couple of days. I got used to the slap noise that the front of my sole made on the sidewalk. We never ran to the store to buy new shoes unless it was an emergency and play shoes did not constitute an emergency. I could go barefoot!
Once in a while disaster would strike while skating. If the clamps weren't locked tight on the shoe, the shoe would slip off the platform. Not good. The rolling would end in a 5 point landing, depending on how fast you were going when the shoe hit the pavement without wheels under it.
Knees, hands then chin would hit cement - possibly nose if you really had some speed going. You'd lay there in shock while your skating posse passed by. Then the pain would hit! Your friends would all stop and try to help you up, but they were on wheels and not very stable. You picked yourself up and skate/hobbled home, howling all the way.
Fortunately the accidents were few and far between. The freedom of rolling down the street with friends outweighed the scrapes and bruises that were inevitable with any outside activity.