Kids and Their Funny Ideas

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

My First Bike

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

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

Christmas Eve

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

Holiday Cheer

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

Neighborhood Kids

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

Pets

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

My Neighborhood Watch

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

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

George

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

Rob

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

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

Bread and Butter

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

The Spirit

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