Grow Where You're Planted

School Closings

2010-03-19T19:51:00.000-07:00

The other day the news reported that Detroit is going to close over 40 schools next year. One of the schools on the list is Cooley High School. Wow. I really thought that school would still be here through the millenium.
My two older brothers graduated from Cooley. My mom and I attended their graduation ceremony. I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the building. Then I had to take a summer school class at Cooley during my jr.high years.
Mom would drop me off on Hubbell in front of Cooley and I would have to walk through the courtyard and into the 3 story building. It was constructed of light orange bricks that made the building somehow seem like a cathedral. The stairwells were huge with stone steps. (I know, I fell UP them a few times.)
When I finally graduated to high school, it was Cooley I attended. There were over 3,000 students in three grades - 10th, 11th and 12th. There were at least 6 counselors for the students. We were dividedld by alphabetical order for the counselors.
Before school started, I would get a map of the layout of the building so I wouldn't get lost going from class to class. The school was so crowded that we had several temporary buildings that held classrooms.
If it weren't for the horrible race problems, I would have graduated from Cooley, too. It's a beautiful school with a rich history.

Scarlet Fever

2010-03-15T13:56:00.001-07:00

I was 12 years old and June was about 9 months old. We both got very, very ill. Our parents were concerned more with June than with me because of our ages.
Our bishop was a pediatrician, so my folks called him up to see what was wrong. He looked at June and said it looked as though she had the measles, not to worry too much. But Mom and Daddy were still worried. June was too sick for this to be just a simple case of measles - and I already had the measles, but I had the same thing.
Mom called the doctor and was told they didn't want a contagious child in the waiting room. They could wait in the car and a nurse would come out to get them when the Dr. was ready. I remember Daddy was furious about that.
I don't remember much about the 2 weeks that I was sick. I remember getting out of bed and laying on the couch. I slept a lot, didn't eat too much and had a high fever. I had red spots, then developed fever sores around my mouth.
I don't know when we were diagnosed with scarlet fever. When I finally got well enough to sit up and eat, I was weak. Daddy convinced me to try to walk tot he store with him. I made it about a block before I had to head home. Daddy's arm was firmly around my shoulder. He kept encouraging me to go a little further but I was SO tired.
After I went back to school June got even sicker. The doctor put her in Children's Hospital in Detroit. Her ear drums had burst. She got a priesthood blessing.
June's hearing was totally restored. She has not had any problems with her ears at all. She did, however, have a rapid heartbeat from the time she was a little girl to after the birth of her first child. She went to U of M Medical Center and had an outpatient surgery that repaired that problem.
I don't think I had any ill affects from scarlet fever. I really don't remember much about myself at all. I just remember my parents concern over their small baby. I guess I should be happy that my parents had the faith that I would pull through unscathed - which I did.

88 Years

2010-02-07T11:22:00.000-08:00

Today is my father's 88th birthday. I could never have had a better father than he. Last Monday Daddy, Mom, June and I went out for lunch. Afterward while Mom and June were gathering their things, Daddy and I had a moment alone to talk.
"Are you mad at me for all the spankings I gave you?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Daddy, you never spanked me. And I could probably count on one hand the ones Mom gave me. I worked hard to get those spankings and deserved every one of them."
Daddy laughed. "I never had to spank you. All I had to do was give you a look (he demonstrated) and you would do what you were supposed to do." I laughed.
It was true. I never wanted to disappoint my dad. The times he was most disappointed in me was about my grades. I was to get nothing less than a 'B'. But I did a couple of times. That's when we would hit our 'rough' spots.
I remember Daddy standing me on our picnic table in Battle Creek and singing, "Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day." And I would sing with him.
I remember Daddy shoveling off the patio in the back yard in winter and filling it with water so we had our own little skating rink.
I remember Daddy walking on his hands across the back yard.
I remember the tears that streaked down his face after we left Sandy at Fort Custer the first time.
I remember Daddy standing in front of church and conducting meetings.
I remember going to the barber shop with Daddy, to the store with Daddy, to the dentist with Daddy, going for walks with Daddy.
I remember Daddy telling me that the boy who had broken my heart wasn't worthy of me.
I remember walking down the aisle on my daddy's arm and giving me to the next man in my life - my eternal companion.
I remember buying an old piano and my dad and uncle lifting that heavy, heavy (solid brass sound board) piano and bringing it from the truck into my parlor.
I remember hugging him and not wanting to let go when we moved to Utah.
I remember him being wherever I needed him to be in times of crisis. He (and Mom) saved my life, I'm sure of it.
I remember his beautiful almost black eyes, his warm smile, his strong arms.
I remember when Mom went through menopause and was having such a hard time that he tried to understand. He didn't blame her for hormonal imbalances. He stayed by her side and defended her.
I remember when Mom was in the hospital and no one knew what was wrong, how Daddy couldn't even speak because he was so worried. One day he left the hospital and went home and locked himself in their apartment. Bruce and I followed him because we were worried. After knocking on the door for quite a while and promising that it was just me, he opened the door. We sat on the couch together and I held him this time while he cried.
I remember how the weight of the world was on his shoulders when Sandy died. He said a child should never die before their parents.
I remember him in his white suit officiating in the temple.
I remember he and mom came home from their temple mission to help my younger brother. When I said something about Ted should be able to handle this on his own, he said, "Family is first."
And now I see him as the patriarch of the family. He is a little slow in his walk, his eyes aren't as clear as they once were and he can't hear very well, but he is all the things that I remember and much, much more.
I love him forever.

Counting Pennies

2010-02-06T14:39:00.000-08:00

My sister and I go away for a few days a year. We've gone to Ann Arbor and we've gone to Frankenmuth. We have a great time talking, laughing, sometimes crying and shopping, shopping, shopping. We LOVE Birch Run near Frankenmuth.
I decided to start saving early so I could have a lot of money to play with. I save change. I have a cute piggy bank that matches my dishes, so that is where I put my change.
As I was counting it the other day, I remembered that I used to do the same thing with my dad when I was little.
I wasn't allowed to play in my parents bedroom. It was their space. But a couple of times a week I could go in. It was a big room that held their double bed, an armoir, a large dresser and my mom's vanity. The armoir was the place that all things saved were put - at least that's what I thought. Mom had her fur coat in there and at the bottom were mason jars full of pennies.
My dad would put his pennies in the jars through a slit in the lid of the canning jar.
Maybe every other month my dad and I would pull out the jars and count the pennies. He would sit on the bed and I would sit next to him with enough room between us to put piles of pennies. I would count out 10 pennies and put them in a stack. By the time we were done counting there were stacks of ten pennies all over the place. I remember once counting out $18.00 in pennies.
Eventually the pennies were put in the bank in my own account. But it wasn't the money. It was the time that I spent in my parents bedroom (that room that held so many secrets and wonders!) counting pennies with my daddy and having my mom close by. It was a family affair. I remember lots of smiles and giggles and lots and lots of talking with each other.

Problems at the Grocery Store

2010-01-26T16:31:00.000-08:00

It took me over a year to tell anyone what happened. I was embarrassed, humiliated and mad. Really mad.
It took place at a Meijers store in Waterford. I had taught an exercise class at church and was taking Mandy home for her mom, Roz. Mandy was around 3 years old. I had some time to kill before Mandy was supposed to be home, so I stopped at Meijers and did some shopping. By the time I got to the check out line, my cart was pretty full. Mandy was sitting in the child seat in the front.
Mandy was an absolutely adorable toddler. My main concern was keeping her happy and safe. I got into line with my full cart. I was probably the third person in line and everyone in front of me had full carts also.
A man got in line behind me. I should have noticed right away that something was wrong. He only had two or three items to buy, but instead of going into the fast lane, he came to the long lane.
He was dressed like a college professor - dress pants, dress shirt and a jacket with patches on the elbows.
He was getting kind of close to me, but I thought he was getting too close to Mandy. I made sure my body was between him and Mandy the whole time. Then I felt a rub on my butt! I spun around and the guy apologized and said he was reaching for a candy bar. I gave him a dirty look but didn't see any reason not to believe him.
The line had moved ahead so we were between two high walls filled with impulse items. I felt something rub on my butt again! Again I spun around and he made some excuse about dropping something. Again the dirty look, but this time I had my doubts he was telling the truth. Brick house doesn't have to drop on me!
The third and last time the guy actually pushed himself against my butt (his private part was seeking company!)! This time I reached out and grabbed the food divider and stared at him. I started to slap the divider up and down in the palm of my hand.
I was finally ready to check out. I still was concerned about the pervert getting to Mandy. It was difficult to keep myself between her and the nut and get food out of the cart.
After I payed for the groceries, I was furious! I looked for the guy, but he was gone! He must have pushed through the line back into the store because I looked all over for the guy - even outside.
I was so angry with myself. Here I was a 2nd degree black belt and some masher molested me in line at Meijers! I should have given the guy a palm heel to his nose! I should have at least screamed at him. But all I did was give dirty looks and slap the divider in my hand.
He will do this to another woman. And I had a chance to stop him for at least a little while. I didn't. I had failed.
There are men out there who get excited just by touching. That's all they want to do - at least at first.
The only thing I felt good about was that Mandy was safe. I did what I could to not let her be aware that something was wrong.

Meniers Disease

2010-01-23T07:22:00.000-08:00

In the early 1990's I was having a problem with getting dizzy. Sometimes it would last just a little while, sometimes it lasted for hours. Once it started, I just had to wait it out. Most of the time I would go to bed, wait for the spinning to stop, then try to sleep. There were times when if I moved my head, I had to throw up. I couldn't stand because I was so dizzy, so I had to crawl to the bathroom. Not good!
I went to my Dr. to find out what was wrong with me. He did a CAT scan but found nothing (My husband thought that was great!) to be concerned with. The dizziness didn't happen every day or even every week. I was sent to a specialist.
Dr. Verjabedian came in for an interview. I sat on the exam table while he asked me questions.
"Do you smoke?"
"No."
"Do you drink coffee?"
"No."
"Do you drink alcohol?"
"No."
"Not even at meals?"
"No. It's a religious thing with me."
Finally he got to the question, "Do you eat chocolate?"
"Yes."
"O.k. You need to eliminate that from your diet."
I sat there in shock! Eliminate chocolate? Is this guy un-American? We both just sat there looking at each other. "How about we go back to the question about coffee and I admit that I drink coffee? Then we can keep the chocolate?"
He laughed. I went without chocolate for over a month while being tested.
I went through extensive testing of my ears and hearing with just the conclusion that I have lost substantial hearing. I knew that! Could have saved lots of money and been happy eating chocolate.
Dr. V. put me on anti-vert, a drug for dizziness. It didn't help with the 'attacks'. The only thing the drug did was make me loopier than usual. All I wanted to do was sleep.
Finally, after eliminating everything else (this took months), the verdict came back as Meniers Disease. Why? I think it was used as a catch-all for whatever they couldn't diagnose.
The year we move to Rochester was the worst year for me. Since then, the attacks have pretty much gone away - thank heaven!!!!

Always Sharp

2010-01-21T17:21:00.001-08:00

My father is almost 88 years old. He's close to being deaf, he's unsteady on his feet and he has limited use of his right arm. However, his mind is as sharp as ever. He is a total blast to talk to. We all had lunch before Christmas. Before we parted and while giving me a hug he said, "Remember the good times."
Maybe ten or so years ago, my mom and dad, Bruce and I were returning from somewhere - maybe Battle Creek. I was driving, Bruce was in the passenger seat and Mom and Daddy were in the backseat. We were on a freeway near Lansing. It was pretty crowded. In my rear view mirror I saw a car loaded with young girls speeding in and out of traffic. They were having a great time cutting off traffic.
People like that are dangerous and, frankly, make me mad. So when these little chickies tried to cut me off, I sped up a little. When they tried to get in back of me so they could zoom around on the other side, I would slow up a bit. After a few minutes, the girls were screaming and making hand gestures that were not very nice. This went on for about five minutes. I was having a bit of fun all by myself while everyone else was involved in conversation.
"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?" It was my dad. No one else noticed what was going on, but my dad is extremely observant. I smiled and said, "Yep." NOTHING gets by my dad. Nothing!
I had to explain to everyone else what was going on. The girls finally turned off and the rest of the trip was uneventful.

Play-off Pain

2010-01-19T09:13:00.000-08:00

It was 1989. We attended the Clarkston Ward. I was Laurel advisor at the time. We had missionaries from Utah and California. The Pistons were in the play-offs against the Lakers.
Between my boys, myself and the two missionaries a fun rivalry had developed.
After a particularly good game that the Pistons had won, I decided to have some fun. I only had 1 Laurel show up that day, so Vicky (YW president), Becca (the 1 Laurel) and I went out to the missionaries car with soap we had pilfered from the restroom. We were singing the praises of our basketball team with adoration in the form of soap messages on the windows of their car.
Vicky had never done anything like this before, so she didn't know what to write. I told her anything that praised the Pistons. When done, we went back inside and attended our meeting like the good Christians that we are.
My family left pretty soon after meetings were over. When we got home the phone rang. It was Elder Vi (He was from Tonga originally and his last name was almost impossible for us to pronounce, so he called himself Elder Vi.). Elder Vi had been in a gang in L.A. before he found the gospel, so he could get a 'rough' sound to his voice. I tried to play innocent, but asked why he was so upset.
"Because I had to ride home with my window down."
"Why?"
"I will not ride around with "I love Bill" written on my window!"
I almost fell over laughing. Vicky couldn't think of anything to say and she didn't follow sports. She did like Bill Lambier, however. (He was over 7 foot tall and she was 4'11".) So she wrote 'I love Bill' on the passenger window.
Let them 'dis' our Pistons!

Chris's Kids and Pics

2010-01-16T13:44:00.000-08:00

Chris's 3 kids came over today to stay with us for the weekend. I have wonderful pics of my other grandchildren, but only older ones of his kids. I took them to the studio today to get some professional pics taken.
Ashley will miss her calling if she doesn't become a model. The camera loves her. The photographer would tilt Ashley's head up and Ashley would do it without moving. Ashley was like a doll that you could position. Her photo's were incredible!
Brandon did great, too. He did everything he was told to do. I really liked the photo of him in front of an old brick building with a hat on his head.
And Josh. He is SO handsome. My fave of him is with him laying on his stomach with a soft smile on his face.
They were all so good for the hour we were there. We'll get the pics at the end of the month.

Small Acts

2010-01-14T18:08:00.000-08:00

I went to Target to pick up a few things today. Among the items I needed to pick up was a bag of hard candy for my diabetic husband. The Dr. added a new medication to his regimen and his sugar has been going pretty low at times. He gets very shaky until he can get some sugar in him. I found some Werther's butterscotch candy - his fave.
I bought my items and got to my car to put them in. I emptied out my cart and saw the bag of candy laying in the cart. I hadn't paid for them. I didn't even see them in the cart when I went to the check out. O.K., the right thing to do is to take the candy back into the store and pay for them. Another walk in the cold half a parking lot away. I'm sure I had been over-charged for some item in all the years I had shopped at Target. BUT that was Target's problem, not mine. I had to go and either put the candy back or pay for it.
I walked back to Target with the candy in one hand and two dollars in the other. As I walked in the door I glanced down at the candy - it was sugar-free!!!!! Not any good at all for what it was intended for.
Nobody even glanced my way as I walked back in with the candy in my hand and walked to the candy aisle. I put the Werther's back and found another hard candy to get for Bruce. I really paid for this candy.
It's strange how things work out. If I had not been honest, I would have brought home the wrong candy. If Bruce had needed the sugar...well, I'm happy that I let my conscience be my guide.

The Farmhouse

2010-01-13T09:11:00.000-08:00

We left our beautiful house in Detroit in 1970, after race riots disturbed every one's peace of mind and security. This is when my dad and uncle were going into partnership to build houses. We were to live in Grandma Guile's small farm house.
Mom and I had all kinds of ideas on how to decorate and make the farm house our home. I guess we didn't remember how horrible this house was. The room I was assigned was too small to put a twin bed and a dresser in. I moved upstairs and my parents converted the 'parlor' into their bedroom.
I took my savings and bought wallpaper for the ceiling (yes, the ceiling) and the walls. I bought paint for the trim and curtains for the window. When I was done, it was the prettiest room in the house.
The furnace was coal fed. We would wake up in the morning with black rings around our noses. Our clothes were filthy with coal dust. The only way we could keep things clean was to hang our clothes in the bathroom where there was no heating vent.
The furnace would always go out before morning. Mom was always the first one up so she had to start the furnace. She would get June and I up for school, then Daddy to work on the house and take care of Ted. Mom held us all together.
That house was haunted, too. Every morning at two a.m., my desk would start to shake. It was a metal desk held in place by tension poles running from the floor to the ceiling. The first night it happened, I just rolled over and said,"Squirrels.". The next night I thought the same thing, but wasn't as convinced. The third night when my desk started to shake at two a. m. on the dot, I grabbed my blanket and pillow and slept downstairs. My parents traded rooms with me. My parents never had any strange experiences, but my brother, Dan and his wife Kathy, swears the house was haunted also.
And snakes. There were lots of garden snakes around there. I HATE snakes. And the pitch black of the night. I had a street light in front of my bedroom window in Detroit. I felt that I had entered the black hole. And the party line on the telephone. You couldn't talk for more than 5 minutes without someone else clicking in. I know one of the neighbors listened in on conversations because we could hear the click on, but not the click off. And I couldn't get to any stores. I didn't drive and EVERYTHING was too far to walk to. We went to 'town' once a week.
There were only a couple of cupboards in the kitchen. Everything was old.
On the whole, it was a miserable time living there. But we were together, and Daddy had promised us a new home.

House in Detroit

2010-01-11T12:59:00.000-08:00

I went with my parents one time to look at a house they considered buying. I wanted this house so bad my teeth hurt! It was a split level, modern house with a BUILT IN POOL!!!! My folks weren't impressed with this house, though and bought another one.
This house was on the street that was the emergency entrance for Mt. Carmel Mercy Hospital. It was huge. There were three bedrooms upstairs, a formal dining room, breakfast nook, walk-in coat closet and a full apartment in the basement. A bonus was the house came with furniture. This furniture was very nice. I still have the china cabinet that was part of the set. This will be passed down to my daughter-in-law.
For me, living in Detroit was wonderful. In the summer I got to see my father every day (he worked afternoons) and go places with him. We would walk to the barber shop together and I would sit in a chair across the room from my dad while he got his hair cut. We would play games with our fingers, Daddy would hold his hand out and separate his fingers and I would copy him. It was not easy, but I got quite adept. Then he'd wink at me and I'd wink back, then the other eye, then twice with one eye and once with the other eye. And I would copy him. My Daddy was the most powerful and wonderful person in my life.
I remember hearing the chop, chop, chop of the push mower and smelling the fragrance of fresh cut grass. I remember sitting on my porch step with my mom's red transistor radio listening to the baseball game. I remember drawing chalk spaceships in the driveway with my friends. I remember playing 7-Up on the side of my house - sometimes with a friend, sometimes by myself.
When I was 16, the girls in my MIA class invited their boyfriends and the boys in MIA invited their girlfriends to my home and we had a formal dinner that the girls cooked. Then we all drove to the stake center for a formal danced. It was great! (Except for the baked Alaska.)

Second House

2010-01-09T14:19:00.000-08:00

I don't remember too much about the house on North Princeton Ave. I was only 6 when we moved to Warren. My father had gotten a tool and die job in Detroit, so before they purchased a house, they had to rent one we could live in.
The house we moved into was a two story fake brick house. My mother says it was not a good place, but it was temporary. I remember my sister and I shared a room with a dormer window and it had a play house in the backyard.
I was the new kid on the block. I had a couple of friends, but I remember one fat boy who hated me. He had some friends with him who started to chase me one day. I was pretty fast, though, and the leader was the slow fat kid. I sped home before any of them could catch me.
I went to first grade in Warren. I had attended kindergarten and a little bit of first grade at a very small school. Now here I was at a school with lots of kids - that I didn't know. My teacher was a tall woman who had no sense of humor. Her name was something like Karziki. My dad - bless his wicked soul - talked me into telling my teacher a joke, "When I ride in the car, I get car-sicky." Teacher was not pleased. As a matter of fact, she called my mom in for a conference. Mom was told that I was immature (Thanks, Daddy!) and needed a lot of work or she would have no choice but to fail me. My mom worked with me and I went from one of the worst readers (according to the teacher) to one of the best.
We didn't live there even one year. None of us liked the area. But while we were there, my parents found a wonderful home in Detroit that they bought.

My Homes

2010-01-08T10:21:00.000-08:00

My parents lived in a small house on North Princeton when I was born. When I was 6 we moved to Warren, MI. We lived there less than a year (it was a rental) then moved to Lesure St. in Detroit. When I was 16 we moved to Eckford, MI - into my grandmothers old farmhouse (it was haunted, I swear). My dad finished the house he built by himself (with help from my mom and Uncle Ronnie) and we moved there. Bruce and I got married at the end of 1971 and moved to our first apartment in Union City, MI. We lived there around 8 months and moved to an apartment in Athens, MI which was above a hardware store. We were in that apartment for only a few months when we moved across the hall to a larger apartment. We bought a house in Union City, MI after that. We lived there around 2 years when Bruce had a break down from allergies from work. He knew he couldn't work in the factory any more, so we moved to Utah so he could attend BYU. The housing market was extremely depressed so we signed the house back to the creditors. At that time in that contract we could not rent the property out.
We moved to an apartment in Springville, UT. After that, Bruce wanted to attend another school because BYU didn't have what he wanted to study. We moved to Salt Lake City, Ut. for another 2 years. We moved to West Valley City after that for around 6 months. The owner of the house was renting illegally, so we had to move. We decided that it was time to go back home to Michigan to family and friends.
We stayed with my parents in their basement for about 5 months until we rented a small house in Athens, MI from Bruce's dad. Bruce got a job in his field in Madison Heights, MI so we moved to Taylor, MI. I moved back to the Marshall area for a while, then the family moved to White Lake, MI. We lived there for almost 2 years. I moved back to Marshall again, then the family moved to a huge farmhouse in White Lake again. We lived there for 6 years. After that, we lived in Rochester, MI for 12 years.
We bought our little dream house 5 years ago. This is the perfect house for us. We plan on living here for the rest of our lives. It's a wonderful neighborhood in Macomb, MI.

Baseball Hero

2010-01-06T17:39:00.000-08:00

For my sixteenth birthday, the people I babysat for gave me a wonderful surprise; box seats at a Tiger's baseball game. They picked me up early - with the two kids I babysat for - and we got to the game with more than enough time to see the players warm up. I LOVED baseball and in particular the Tigers.
We got to our seats after buying food, souvenirs and a line-up book. We sat down (I know I had a smile on my face the whole time!) and saw some players still on the team. Then I saw my hero, Detroit's hero, Denny McLane winner of 31 and 30 consecutive seasons. My eyes went wide. The father of the kids told me to go over and get an autograph. At first I said no, I couldn't do that. He talked me into it.
I walked over to where Denny was having his photo taken. I waited until the session was finished before I called out to him (I'll never forget this part.). "Mr. McLane! Mr. McLane!" He started to walk away without even turning in my direction. I called even louder, "Mr. McLane!" He continued to walk away. I finally yelled, "Denny!" He turned around and glared at me. "Could I get your autograph?"
He stomped over to me, snatched the line-up book out of my hand, scribbled his name on it and almost threw it back at me. "I could get fined for this!" He snarled. Then he walked away.
I was crushed. My hero was a total jerk.
However, I had his autograph. And the game was wonderful. We won 10 to 1. I soon came to realize that Mickey Lolich was a nicer person and just as gifted a pitcher as Denny McLane.

Old Friends

2010-01-05T08:42:00.000-08:00

Facebook has become a driving force in my life - in a few areas. I have reconnected with lots of old friends. My favorite surprise was finding my friend, Mary.
Mary and I were best friends in the 11th and 12th grades at Tekonsha High School. One of our teachers called Mary my shadow; wherever I was, Mary was beside me.
Mary lived about a mile from my house. She had a younger brother who had a friend and together they loved to torture us. One day they decided we could play football with them. HA! I learned what the term "trash canned" meant. Mary was our quarterback which meant that I had to catch the ball and try to run it to the goal. Both Richard and Don would converge on me -one from my left and one from my right, scream, "Trash can!" then ram me from both sides. I would collapse and they would grab the football and run it back for a goal. They did this to Mary also. We played this 'fun' game one time only.
The Christmas after my 17th birthday I was allowed to get my ears pierced. Back then you had to go to a Dr's office and you had to have 14 carat gold earrings. I was so excited! I had been begging for years for pierced earrings. Uncle Ronnie gave me the earrings for Christmas and I made an appointment ASAP. The day I got my ears pierced, I went to Mary's house. We were sitting on the floor in their living room watching T.V. when Richard and Don snuck up behind us and threw a blanket over our heads. We gave them the appropriate screaming and yelling until they took the blanket off our heads. My newly pierced ear was missing my new earring!
I was SO mad!!! I made them help us find the earring. When it was finally found, I couldn't get the earring in the hole. I got so mad that Richard came over and put the earring in for me - backwards!
Mary decided to get her ears pierced also, so when she went to the Dr. for her piercing, I went with her. The Dr. chewed me out for roughhousing when I had just gotten the earrings put in. I tried to explain to him that Mary and I were completely innocent. He asked me if I were present? If I hadn't been there, my earring would have stayed put and I wouldn't be there bothering him. He did reverse my earring - muttering all the way.
I have so many stories about Mary and me. They were great days.

2010-01-04T08:43:00.000-08:00

We had a weekend filled with laughter! A surprise phone call came from Sara on Friday morning. She asked us if we were busy this weekend. Of course we weren't, so she wanted to know if we'd like company.

They arrived around 5 p.m. and the fun began. They are the sweetest children! Rob and Sara were happy and the kids were an absolute delight. We didn't do anything special, but the three days we had together was a great ending to a nice holiday.

Little Kaylee is growing up so fast. She and I looked for a blanket to snuggle with, then she laid on my lap. She insisted I sing to her the whole time she laid there. I don't think it's possible to be any happier than I was right at that moment.

When we went to the store, Raef insisted he hold my hand the whole time. And Brady stayed close so he could play jokes and giggle.

They left on Sunday after Chris got home from work. Our house got SO quiet. But the echoes of laughter stayed on.

2010

2010-01-01T03:42:00.001-08:00

Is it over yet? Can I come out from under my bed? Is 2009 finally, finally gone? YAY!
And now to prepare for the new year, the new decade. What can I do to make things different? What can I do to bring about necessary changes so I can find peace and happiness?
I need to start with me. I need to find out what are my most important priorities. I need to not even bother with the things that I cannot change. As a matter of fact, I can only change myself - my outlook. I must not dwell on what will never be. I must make better what I can touch.
I am looking forward to the new baby in our family. I can't wait to hold this new little spirit from heaven. To feel the warmth of the tiny body in my arms. To look into his/her eyes and see myself, my husband, my parents.
I need to make a more concerted effort to stay in touch with Rob and his family. He has the most amazing children. And I truly love Sarah.
I need to help Steve through his tough times - his flashbacks of war, his family back in Germany.
I need to help Chris and Dana as they prepare for their new family while blending with his present family.
I need to work on my relationship with my sweetheart. We've been together over 38 years - through bad and good. We've grown into adults together, created children together, shared the amazement of grandchildren. Now we can relax in the sure knowledge that we have unconditional love. I sleep well knowing my husband is next to me - in bed and in life.
I have been blessed.
And to still have my parents with us. My father, patriarch of the family, whose mind is still just as quick as ever. My mother, matriarch of the family, who still has the energy to love her family - no matter what.
Come on in 2010.

Kids and Their Funny Ideas

2009-12-27T07:57:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-26T09:11:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-12-25T18:28:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-25T17:25:00.000-08:00

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

Holiday Cheer

2009-12-22T06:01:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-17T11:33:00.001-08:00

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

2009-12-16T15:57:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-13T08:45:00.001-08:00

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.

2009-12-11T11:05:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-10T03:29:00.001-08:00

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

2009-12-08T03:49:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-12-06T05:19:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-04T09:41:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-01T08:50:00.000-08:00

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

Depression

2009-11-30T10:53:00.000-08:00

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

First Apartment

2009-11-28T08:43:00.000-08:00

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

Steve

2009-11-26T10:00:00.000-08:00

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

C-A-N-D-Y

2009-11-25T14:07:00.000-08:00

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

Jordan River Temple

2009-11-24T05:34:00.001-08:00

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

Cross Country Skiing

2009-11-22T13:01:00.000-08:00

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

Trip to Winona

2009-11-20T10:57:00.000-08:00

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

Neighbors

2009-11-18T14:47:00.000-08:00

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

Little Israel

2009-11-17T16:41:00.000-08:00

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

The Main Event

2009-11-16T09:05:00.000-08:00

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

Brandon's Day

2009-11-14T19:19:00.000-08:00

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

Life's Lessons

2009-11-13T10:58:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-11T09:17:00.000-08:00

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

Roller Rink Accident

2009-11-09T10:33:00.000-08:00

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

NOT Powder-puff Football

2009-11-08T09:21:00.000-08:00

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

Wedding

2009-11-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

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

Henry Ford High

2009-11-04T11:20:00.000-08:00

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

Cemetery

2009-11-03T08:14:00.000-08:00

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

Cars!

2009-11-02T09:13:00.000-08:00

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

The Thing Steve Dragged Home

2009-11-01T06:12:00.000-08:00

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

Abby, Dana and Donny

2009-10-31T14:01:00.000-07:00

All ready to party-down at the devil fest.

Escape!

2009-10-30T12:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-29T11:12:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-28T12:49:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-27T12:24:00.001-07:00

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

2009-10-26T13:52:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-24T10:22:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-23T11:48:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-22T17:18:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-22T08:10:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-21T12:47:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-20T09:45:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-19T08:28:00.001-07:00

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

2009-10-18T06:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-17T06:43:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-16T09:12:00.001-07:00

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

2009-10-15T13:10:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-14T18:50:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-10-13T10:10:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-12T08:06:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-10T10:26:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-09T08:00:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-08T18:44:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-07T12:21:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-06T06:56:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-05T08:53:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-04T13:11:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-03T09:49:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-02T07:57:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-01T08:43:00.000-07:00

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.

Dionysus and Lady Abigail

2009-09-29T11:42:00.000-07:00

Dionysus

2009-09-28T14:01:00.000-07:00

I am so excited. Steve brought home a little black, long-haired kitten. He brought it home for me. He is the sweetest little guy (the kitten, not Steve). He curled up and went to sleep on me first thing. He's almost 8 weeks old.
Finding a name f0r the little guy was not so easy. I thought of Thor, but he's so tiny I couldn't do that to him - his id would never recover. I thought of Toby, but being black someone may think it's a racial thing. Then I found the perfect name - Dionysus. He's the Greek god of wine and festivals. The wine part won't happen, but I hope he's a happy, festive little kitty.
Bruce wanted to name him briquette, skewer, bait, lunch meat, etc. This is why he's never allowed to name our creatures.
Right now little Donny is curled up with Bruce taking a nap.

Fridays

2009-09-28T08:01:00.000-07:00

Fridays were always an exciting day of the week for me. Daddy got paid on Friday and we went shopping. During the school year, I couldn't go shopping with them because I was in school while Daddy was home and he was at work when I was home.
Every night at 8 p.m. Daddy would call home. Mom sat at the desk with her knitting or crocheting waiting for the phone call. They would talk for 10 minutes or so. On Fridays, I talked to Daddy. He would ask me how my day was then he would send me on a treasure hunt. I would have to run up the stairs twice or do three somersaults or spin around and count to ten then when completed I was sent to the bookshelf or mantle to search for a prize. It was usually candy and comic books. Then I would come back to the phone and report.
If I had gotten 5 'A's' that week from school, I would get a special prize. I had to bring the 'A' papers home to show my work. That meant extra hunts around the house.
I loved getting the prizes, but it was more important to me to have that extra connection with my dad. I knew he was smiling. I was certainly smiling.
The treasure hunts ended when I was about 14. I had gotten a bad mark on my report card. Daddy was so disappointed in my lack of effort at school. He wanted to impress upon me the importance of hard work. No one gets a free lunch. The hunts stopped.
My grades improved, but Daddy felt I was too old for the game anymore. Sometimes growing up isn't so fun.

Gold Bell Gift Stamps

2009-09-27T05:12:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid in Detroit, the grocery stores gave away 'gift stamps' with every purchase. Wrigley's gave away gold bell gift stamps and A.&P. stores gave away S&H green stamps. Mom would bring the sometimes pages of stamps home and put them in little books. These little books were made to put the stamps on the empty pages - well, the pages were empty except for stamp-sized squares. The licking was not the fun part, either. Mom would let me help her put the stamps in the book. Ycch.
Mom saved those books up then would go through the redemption catalog and see what she could get with her stamps. I remember she would put huge rubber bands around stacks of her stamp books to keep them organized. Off we would go to the redemption center and she would trade her books for whatever she could. A couple of books for small items, lots of books for large items.
One day I came home from school and there, in my front room, was an adult-size pink bike. It was mine! Mom had saved her books up and bought me a bicycle.
My father didn't want me to have a bike in Detroit. He thought there was too much traffic and I would get injured. I had begged and begged for one. And there it was, thanks to my mom and gold bell gift stamps.
I can still remember my first ride on my pink bike. We wrestled the bike outside and I climbed on. I rode down the driveway to the sidewalk and turned left towards Mount Carmel Hospital. I remember the feeling of freedom. I still remember my hair being blown back by the wind. And I can still feel the smile on my face as I rode my pink bike around the block that very first time.
Thanks, Mom. Thanks for the patience to save up all those little books of Gold Bell Gift Stamps. And thank you for thinking of me.
I had the only pink bike in the neighborhood.
And I rode it everywhere.

Harry Mudd

2009-09-25T14:24:00.000-07:00

We had gotten Harry from a vet clinic in Marshall, MI. Someone had found him in the street, barely alive and brought him to the clinic. No one ever claimed him. So we took him.
Harry was a red point Siamese. He was huge! He was my cat. When we moved to Seven Harbors, he introduced himself to the neighbors before we met them.
He loved to be petted - not picked up and cuddled, just petted. Harry also had a mean sense of humor. One morning I called my best friend on the phone. Before I could say "Hello", Harry snuck around the corner and grabbed my ankle and bit me. I yelled in shock and pain. Harry just sat there and looked at me, like, "Gotcha!" I swear he was smiling.
When it was time for school, I would yell up the stairs for the kids to get up, get dressed and come get breakfast. I would hear 5 pair of feet hitting the floor, footsteps towards the stairs then screams, thudding steps back to rooms and 3 doors slamming. Then I would hear someone yelling, "Mom! Get Harry! He won't let us come down the stairs!"
Sure enough, that dumb cat would be hiding beneath the top step waiting for bare feet to bite. I had to pick him up and toss him outside so the kids could get ready for school.
Bruce and I had a bookshelf headboard on our bed. Bruce took a glass of water to bed with him every night in case he woke up dry. One particular night I was woken up with Bruce bolting upright, sputtering. He was soaked. Harry had knocked his glass of water off onto his head. Less than a week later, I woke up to Harry pushing Bruce's glass toward the edge of the bookshelf again. I grabbed him and asked him if he wanted to live very long.
When everyone was gone to work and school, Harry would sit on the back of my chair and nap. He was always close. I was not allowed to pull him into my lap, but I was expected to scratch between his ears every once in a while.
His name was Harry to begin with, but after we had him for a few months, we added Mudd because he was always in trouble.
Bruce and I tried to have a date night every week. We went to our truck and backed out when we felt a thump and heard a shriek. Harry Mudd had been napping in the wheel well on our truck. He was still alive when we found him, but when we took him to the vet, she said he was really bad. He died later that night. I cried. Bruce said it was retribution for the glass of water.

First Day

2009-09-24T15:00:00.000-07:00

The first day of school for my first born. It was a time I will never forget. We lived in a small town named Union City, MI. The school was fairly new and only 3 blocks from our home. The first day of school I dressed Chris in his new outfit. He was a beautiful child with his bright blue eyes and corn yellow hair. His sister walked beside him and I had the baby in a stroller. We all walked to school. We got the door in sight when Chris decided he could walk the rest of the way by himself. Off he took, running to the school. I watched him run. I watched him rush toward growing up. When I turned with the other children to go home, I couldn't stop crying.
The first day of school for my last one, Rob, was almost the same. Except that he got on a bus and rode to school with his brothers and sister. I watched his blond head as he went forth in a sea of children. He didn't turn to wave. He went forward. I turned from the bus stop and cried all the way home again, this time by myself. I had watched my youngest climb the steps into the bus. I had watched my youngest climb toward growing up.
The first and the last. They were the hardest for me. All of them leaving me for the first time was heart breaking, but the first one leaving was the signal that change was coming for our family. We had children growing up and entering a world away from us. We had to watch the change in them as they met people with differing ideas. We had to be wary of ideas that were unacceptable to our standards. It was a challenge.
Looking back, I wish I could relive those moments and cherish them as I watched them. I wish I could give my little boy one last hug before he had entered the alien world. Actually, I wish I could give each of my five children one last hug.

Funeral

2009-09-23T10:31:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was a most difficult day. Bruce and I left our house at 6:30 a.m. to make sure we got to Buchanan by noon. Of course, getting through Detroit was not an easy task. But even with traffic jams we arrived at the funeral home 50 minutes early. We went in. We were the first ones - only ones - there. We walked into the room where Louise was laying in her casket. She was dressed in red. It looked as though they had gathered her skin around her face, dressed her then laid the skin on top of the collar. There was a wave of wrinkled skin under her face. They also had set her jaw forward so she had a rather belligerent look about her. Bruce would not have recognized her.
The service itself was nice. The only problem was that the preacher portrayed Louise as this wonderful compassionate woman who would be greatly missed. He actually mentioned all our children by name - even though she met only 3 of them. She never recognized any of Bruce's family while she was alive.
There was a man there named Johnny who was no blood relation to Louise at all. He was her second husband's son. But she accepted him and was in 'daily' contact with him. We had reached out to her on many occasions, but she couldn't be bothered with us.
It was all Bruce could do not to walk out. And I would have walked with him.
The service lasted less than 1/2 an hour. Then we all waited for the pall bearers put the coffin into the hersh. Bruce was not asked to be a pall bearer at his own mother's funeral. He was hurt.
The family could ride in the limo that followed the hersh, but we chose to drive ourselves so we could leave after the ceremony at the grave site. That ceremony couldn't have lasted more than 10 minutes. We spoke to a few people, then we left.
Missy, Mitchell, Johnny and a few others spoke with us. People were very cordial. The preacher asked Bruce if he had any good memories of his mother. Bruce told him no. The preacher didn't know what to say.
Bruce's dad called on Monday night and volunteered to go to the funeral with us. Bruce told him he appreciated the offer but why would there have to be two of them in misery? Bruce's dad offered to go because he knew that Bruce was the 'throw away' child from a first failed marriage. He knew that Bruce had tried many, many times to get back with his mother and was rejected each time.
She's gone now. Too late for "I'm sorry". Too late for "I forgive you". Too late for "I love you."

Louise

2009-09-20T08:39:00.001-07:00

The first time I met Louise was at Grandma and Gramp's house in Winona, MN. Grandma and Gramps were having a party celebrating 50 years of marriage - their golden anniversary. We had 3 year old Chris and our baby daughter with us. Louise had flown out while John, her husband, was driving their mobile home across country with a neighbor. Louise was nice to me and absolutely loved our daughter. Chris was ignored completely. Fortunately, Gramps made up for it by taking Chris everywhere with him.
When John came, he and Louise even took our daughter shopping for new earrings.
Louise thought I was a nice catholic girl. When she found out I was LDS, she was astonished. I imagine she was even more astonished that Bruce was also LDS. She really didn't talk to Bruce very much. I don't really have much of an impression of her. I did have an impression of John, though.

Louise Hanover

2009-09-19T13:33:00.000-07:00

Bruce's mom is going to have her funeral on Tuesday at noon at Hoven Funeral Home in Buchanan, MI. There is a viewing on Monday night from 7 to 8 p.m. at the same funeral home.

Katarina

2009-09-19T09:07:00.000-07:00

Kati called me last week and sang Happy Birthday to me in English and German. This morning the phone rang and I answered it. "Hello?" nothing "Hello?" then I heard a sweet little voice saying in German "Das ist nicht Papa!" Then Julia came on giggling and said "Kati wanted to call her Papa and he didn't answer the phone."

I got Steve so he could talk to her. She had just completed her first ballet class. She was frightened at first, then

when her friend showed up, she wanted to dance.

Bruce's Mom

2009-09-18T17:02:00.001-07:00

This morning I got a phone call from Bruce's step-sister, Missy. She said that their mom had lapsed into a coma at a hospital in South Bend. They didn't expect her to live very long so Missy and her husband were taking Louise home. About 7 p.m. tonight Missy called again saying that Louise had passed as soon as they got her home. We don't know anything else. I think Bruce is still in a kind of shock.

Roses

2009-09-18T08:56:00.000-07:00

We moved to Detroit when I was 7 years old. I didn't know anyone. I didn't have any friends yet.
The first house on the block belonged to an elderly Greek man named Mr. Pappas. He was widowed and lived by himself in this huge house. In the backyard Mr. Pappas grew prize-winning roses. His backyard was absolutely beautiful. Colors were everywhere. The air always smelled so good.
Being all by myself, I would wander through the block - I wasn't allowed to cross the street yet. The alley behind our house was always interesting. I left our backyard and went to Mr. Pappas's yard through the alley. I stood there and was enthralled by the beautiful flowers. So I picked some. However, I had been taught that if it wasn't mine I couldn't keep it. So I gathered a lovely bouquet (probably without much stem to them because of the thorns) and went to Mr. Pappas's front door. I rang the doorbell and waited for the door to be opened.
Mr. Pappas was quite short with little hair on his head. He opened the door and smiled at me. I said, "I picked these flowers for you."
He thanked me and told me what a beautiful bouquet I had picked for him. I went home.
You know that old saying, "Loose lips sink ships"? My ship was sunk by my mom when I came home and boasted about giving Mr. Pappas some flowers. I couldn't believe she was mad at me for picking some flowers when he had hundreds of them.
We were new in the neighborhood and I had stolen this sweet man's flowers that he had worked very hard to get just right. He was always in his garden weeding, tweaking and doing whatever else he needed to do to get such beautiful roses. In one fell swoop the new kid on the block obliterated a hand full of his roses.
In my own defense, I had to work hard reaching through the gate - hanging onto the iron gate with one hand so I wouldn't fall through while reaching with the other hand, risking my skin against thorns, just to gather the pretty flowers for Mr. Pappas.
I never did it again.

Cooley High 2

2009-09-17T12:28:00.000-07:00

I made a mistake on my last blog. It was 1968, not 1969 that I entered Cooley High. It had been an exciting year because I had a summer job that gave me all kinds of perks and the Detroit Tigers had won the pennant. They were extreme underdogs but won anyway. I grew up with Ernie Harwell's voice coming out of the little red transistor radio.
There was a beautiful church across Hubbell from Cooley. Kids would gather there and smoke cigarettes before and after school. In a study hour class I had, a young man invited me to come there with him. When I told him I didn't smoke, he moved away from my desk and never spoke to me again! I'm fairly certain there was more than regular cigarettes being smoked over there.
I took two art classes that year. My art teacher entered one of my paintings into an art contest, but I never won anything. Competition was fierce with the city of Detroit schools all competing. It was a water color of a Mexican peasant couple. I have no idea whatever happened to that painting.
When the weather was nice I walked to school and saved my bus money. There was a young man who would walk to meet me almost every morning. He was very nice. The problem was that he was black. My parents are old-school with definite ideas about races mixing. Finally the boy asked me out on a date. I wasn't old enough to date (family rule was 16), so I had that excuse, but he asked me if there was anything else. I felt the need to be honest with him, so I told him my parents would flip out if I dated a black boy. He knew I wasn't being mean, but I knew I had hurt his feelings. He still met me a couple of times, but the weather got bad and I took the bus.
Cooley was a closed campus, which meant that once you were in school, you couldn't leave then come back again. We weren't allowed to eat lunch any other place than the lunch room. However, once a year we were allowed outside (it was in the spring) for lunch hour. I went out with two friends, a girl and a boy. I don't remember the girl's name, but the boy's name was Tim. He was tall and very blond. He was kind of goofy, too. We were outside enjoying the weather when all of a sudden Tim grabbed the top of his head. The other girl and I stopped talking and stared at Tim. Then he looked at his hand, said something about a bird then turned and ran into the school. We laughed so hard we had to hold each other up. Tim came out a few minutes later with wet hair.

Cooley High School

2009-09-16T08:22:00.000-07:00

In the fall of 1969 I entered Thomas Cooley High School. The school held three grades - 10th, 11th, and 12th. There were over 1,000 students per grade.
That morning I had taken a city bus on 6 Mile Rd. from the end of my street, Lesure St., to Hubbell. From there I had a transfer and rode about a mile when I was dropped off at the front of Cooley High School. I had seen the school many, many times (my older brothers had attended there), but it seemed bigger that day.
The design of the school is a Gothic style. It was built in 1929 out of yellow brick. I still remember looking up, up, up as I walked to the entrance.
I knew only a few kids there. My best friend, Debbie Wedes, had gone to Cass Tech because she wanted to be an actress more than anything and Cass Tech is a school for the performing arts. There were 2 other LDS kids there. Among 3,000. I was a little more than intimidated.
That first year I had been publicly honored for an essay I had written and later that year I was publicly humiliated for an essay I had written.
The next year things changed. I had made friends and knew my way around the school. However, there was a new problem. Civil rights had been put in the spotlight. The inner-city schools were almost all black and the schools in the outer-city were mostly white. Politicians in their usual clumsy fashion decided to bus kids from inner-city to outer-city and from the outer-city to inner-city schools to insure integration of the races.
I believe it wasn't the integration that was the problem, I think it was taking children out of their neighborhoods, friends and family - randomly - and thrusting them into an alien element.
At first it seemed to be working, but there had been riots that tore our city apart just a few years earlier. Feelings were still raw. And remember, it was 1970. It was taking a while for earlier generations to accept equality. The races still did not trust each other.
Riots broke out at Cooley High that fall. They were small, isolated incidents, but they were real and they were frightening. I was one of two white kids on the city bus. I saw a group of black kids beating up a white boy. I was so scared that when I got home I was shaking.
My oldest brother, Dan and his wife, Kathy, started taking me to school and picking me up. However, during school I was on my own. Under the window of my algebra class, kids were being beaten up by other kids. Going from the portable classroom to the main school we had to go through lines of kids challenging us to fights.
It wasn't too long into the second year at Cooley High that my father removed me from school. The principle of the school had sent around a memo to the classes telling us to stop the rumors of riots. They weren't rumors.
On my last day of school at Cooley, Dan and Kathy picked me up. We went around the block and saw a huge group of white kids walking to Cooley with clubs and sticks.
The next day school had been cancelled. It remained closed for three days. However, I never went back.
My parents had made the decision to move the family to Eckford and build houses.

SNAKES!!!

2009-09-14T12:28:00.000-07:00

At our first house, we had a huge garden. We grew corn, tomatoes, green beans, zucchini, potatoes, squash, onions, cabbage, lettuce, peas and whatever else we could fit in. We froze and canned everything we could. Bruce took care of the garden most of the time and I took care of the canning and freezing. We had a rototiller that we had gotten used from Bruce's dad. That was a lifesaver because the garden was so big.
In our garden we had a pet. It's name was Sylvester. I only saw him once or twice, but he was more afraid of me than I was of him. He was a garden snake. He kept the insects down so if he stayed in his part of the property I was o.k. with him. I was very aware of Sylvester Snake.
In our third summer there I was very pregnant with Brian. This must have been in late May or very early June. I looked out my kitchen window and saw Bruce walking toward the house - with Sylvester dangling from his hand. I could not believe he was bringing a snake into my house!
As Bruce entered the back door, I ran out the front. I ran down the front lawn to the street and up the hill to the corner. Fear can make pregnant women do miraculous things. I looked back to the house and saw Bruce standing on the porch laughing his butt off.
He called to me to come home, but I wouldn't until he had promised me that the snake was back in the garden. He said he wasn't going to bring it in the house, he was just going to show him to me.
Didn't matter. Snakes and I will never occupy the same space on purpose.

Birthday

2009-09-13T12:45:00.000-07:00

I can't believe that I'm this old!!! 56 years old. And if one more person says 56 years YOUNG, I'm going to scream. My body definitely says old.
This birthday has been a very good one. Steve knows how much I love to read (we share that love) so he gave me a very expensive gift card to a bookstore. Bruce and I are struggling financially, so instead of buying me a gift, he made me shelves for the dining room. I love them. He does such a wonderful job when he makes things. Another heirloom for the grandkids when I pass.
Then I got a call from Rob's family and they sang Happy Birthday to me. It was a sound much like angels make, I'm sure. Those sweet, sweet voices. I wish I could hug them all.
And Steve's little girl, Kati, called today and sang Happy Birthday in English and German. A multi-language song. I told her in English that her song was beautiful, but she didn't understand, so I had to say "Das was schon". When I said that, she was happy.
June sent me a birthday card with two bare butts on the front. It said that I expected someone to make a few 'cracks' on my birthday. And my mom sent a card.
All in all, it was a wonderful day.
I forgot, Bruce and I went to lunch at the Olive Garden. They have fried zucchini! To die for!

In the Closet

2009-09-12T09:21:00.000-07:00

I was 17 when the house my dad was building was almost done. I had been given the choice of bedrooms, the one at the front of the house next to my parents, or the one at the back across the hall from my parents room. I chose the one across the hall because there was a window that allowed the rising sun in. It faced the east.
My parents had rented an electric sander to finish the floors, but the floors needed to be sealed then varnished. Since this was to be my room, my job was to seal the floor. It was in the fall, so in the daytime it was warm, but towards evening it was cool. I had gone over to the house in the middle of the day to work. It was nasty work, so I dressed accordingly - blue jeans, flannel shirt, bare foot ( I preferred bare feet) and hair in pigtails.
By the time I was halfway through the room, the sun was going down. It was getting quite cool in the house. Then someone was knocking at the door. I couldn't believe we were having visitors! My dad and I were the only ones in the house. I had hoped they would talk then the visitor would leave. Oh, no! Daddy invited the neighbor in for a tour.
I could hear their voices, so I could judge where they were in the house. I decided that I looked too horrible to meet the neighbors, so I hid in my closet. I forgot to mention that my dad put lights in the closet that would come on when the door opened, didn't I?
As I sat in the dark closet, I was getting colder and colder. My feet, in particular were cold. I had gloves to wear while sealing the floor, so I got this brilliant idea of putting the gloves on my feet to help warm them up.
I could hear the footsteps and voices coming down the hall to my bedroom. my dad was explaining all that we were doing. They walked into my room (?!?). My dad was telling this neighbor, whom I had never met, about the sealing process. THEN he decided to brag about the light in the closet.
They were both standing in front of the closet when my father proudly opened the door. The light came on and shone right down on me as I sat on the floor of the closet with gloves on my feet.
There was a moment of silence. We were all just kind of staring at each other, too stunned to speak. Then my dad closed the door. The light went out and the two of them left the room. Soon our visitor left. My dad came to the closet and opened the door again. I was still sitting there with the gloves on my cold feet.
"He's gone.", he said. "You can come out now." He was actually smirking!

09/11/2001

2009-09-11T09:44:00.000-07:00

I was at work at CVS. I was the shift supervisor of the store, but I had to cashier because my one employee was running late. The man from the store next to us came in and said that someone had flown a plane into the World Trade Towers. How horrible! My employee came in and I took a television off the shelf and put it in the pharmacy. When we turned it on, there was another plane flying into the towers. We were all stunned. Shocked. Who? Why? Our first impression had been that it was an accident. Now it was plane that it was a planned attack. The day was a blur after that except for the times I stopped at the pharmacy to see if anything had developed. We later learned about the plane that the passengers took over and flew into a field and the plane that flew into the pentagon.
In OUR country! Terrorists had the gall to attack us in our own country! We all watched in horror as New York City went mad. The 'collateral damage' of the buildings in close proximity, the poisonous air. The chaos of trying to find loved ones. Pictures of those not found were posted on erected bulletin boards. The brave fireman and police who were called to deal with a tragedy no one ever thought could happen here.
I guess what surprised Americans was the thought that we were in a war. What war? Who were we fighting? Who could hate us so badly that innocent people had been annihilated? Families had been destroyed. And our sense of security was shattered.
The assistant manager of my store was a devout muslim from Pakistan. He said that he had read the Koran many, many times and not once did he read any passages where it spoke of martyring yourself so you could go to paradise and have 70 virgins waiting for you.
The great divide this action caused by so few has grown to hatred between millions of muslims and millions of christians. This act of hatred has caused a great divide in our own country.
And still the question has begged, why?