Harry Mudd

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.