My mom at a surprise 25th wedding anniversary party in 1981
It is so wonderful to be at Fort Myers Beach celebrating your 81st birthday with you!
As we said this morning while shelling and birding along the beach, “It doesn’t get much better than this…”
Spending these days with you and Dad is so special for K and me.
You are someone I have loved so very dearly all these years and it’s a treat to get together so often and “make memories”, as you always say.
I put together this little collection of photos from the early 1980′s to present before leaving Michigan to make an extra-special card for you.
(Readers, perhaps you’ll enjoy this little glimpse into my family, as well.)
This is my blessing blog for this week–to feel so blessed to have such a wonderful mom who has enriched my life so much.
Hugs, kisses and much love,
Do you remember waiting for your date to arrive back in high school?
How you paced, how you fretted, how you secretly feared?
Do you remember waiting for your child, your sixteen year old, fresh with driver’s license in wallet, gone from your protective veil, gone, gone, into the night, and how you waited? Do you remember the way your heart palpitated, the way you imagined your child–no, even all these years later you can’t say it. You can’t imagine it. You just waited on the edge of agony for your child to come home, to be safe in your cocoon again.
To contemplate a never-ending circle
Thirty-five years ago the bridesmaids wore yellow.
A hot yellow sun oven-baked the Methodist church on September 9th, 1978. We sweltered. We sweated.
(OK, maybe it rained. Maybe the bridesmaids wore baby blue and maybe we married in the Presbyterian Church, which would seem more logical, as my family was Presbyterian. Maybe it wasn’t September 9th. Maybe it wasn’t even THAT hot. The truth is my memory of this day feels fuzzy, hazy, hovering almost out of reach. Someone like Christie, my maid-of-honor, would remember. My mom and Barry’s mom would remember. But it’s too early on a Monday morning to call them so you’re just going to get the version that could be the truth. I’m sure it’s the truth.)
My oh my, we’ve had quite a week with both kids visiting us here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I hardly know where to begin.
Let’s begin with the 5K my daughter and I walked faster than lightning last Thursday during the 4th of July celebration in Baraga. I thought we’d be lazily meandering through the route, but no. She egged me on. She’d eye the people walking in front of us and say, “Mom, we can pass them.”
So we’d walk fast, really fast, until our shoes smoked hot, passing by the people in front of us. Then she’d point to the next
victims walkers and say, “Mom, we can pass them, too!”
The strangeness of life.
My true love bought me dandelion jelly this week.
The woman who sold it to him pronounced, “It tastes like honey.”
This morning I slathered clear-colored dandelion jelly atop a piece of Ezekiel Bread covered with natural crunchy peanut butter.
Melt-in-your-mouth honey-flavored dandelion jelly, purchased by one’s true love (aka one’s husband of almost 35 years.)
I am thinking about “true loves” while cleaning the house. Don’t quibble with me over details. Of course, I ceased scrubbing and vacuuming in order to write this blog post.
Posted in June 2013
Tagged 1950's songs, dandelion jelly, family, Gravel Pit, humor, life, memories, music, Pandora, random, thoughts, Wu Tang Clan
Thumbs up, Dad…
Today hundreds of thousands of fathers will open Hallmark and American Greeting cards and read aloud loving sentiments shared by sons and daughters across the heart of this land.
Perhaps they’ll wipe away a stray tear knowing they are so loved, so respected, so admired by the little babies they once helped birth onto this blue and green spinning planet, a planet filled with joy and sorrow, hope and despair, delight and confusion.
Oh, Dad, this is my second Father’s Day card to you. You opened the first one already, didn’t you, the homemade card that showed you as the colorful Chief Penguin among hundreds of other black-and-white penguins? You read the loving thoughts penned by Barry and me, and maybe you laughed.
I just want to tell you again what a special dad you are to me.
Can everyone sing the old song, “Make new friends,
but keep the old,
one is silver,
and the other’s gold“?
I’m going to Europe–vicariously.
Our son and his wife (who married, as you may remember, last October) are flying off for their belated honeymoon in France and Italy.
I’ve packed myself in Christopher’s suitcase–never you mind that his suitcase is halfway across the country in San Diego–and I’m going to visit Paris, Florence, Nice and Rome. I’ll be so quiet they won’t even know that the mother-in-law is ooohing and ahhhing up that Eiffel Tower.
I promise not to speak. In fact, they won’t even know I’m there.
Storms never pass do they baby?
Storms never last do they baby?
Bad times all pass with the winds
Your hand in mine stills the thunder
And you make the sun want to shine…
Seriously, folks, you can be enjoying a *somewhat* warm Sunday afternoon with your “baby” when suddenly the conversation turns to old songs. (A song which this particular blogger never knew until five minutes ago after her “baby” started rather mockingly singing this old-time classic and she Googled to discover a Jessi Colter and Waylon Jennings version and now, maybe, she’ll remember at least until tomorrow morning as she ponders “Storms never last, do they, baby?”)
What is it about a catchy tune? A tune which has the power to jingle, jolt, jab, sing, dance you from your very ordinary day? And what is it about old-time songs, songs from our childhood, or before our childhood, maybe our parent’s childhood, songs from long-ago, which sing us into a place where our heart throbs, who knows why? Maybe because we remember our Mama or Papa singing it while they made Wonder Bread & peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, who the heck knows?
My Good Friday tradition, for more years than you can count on fingers and toes, involved spinning the old album on the record player, clicking in an eight track tape, pushing in a condensed “modern” tape, and eventually inserting a CD into the player.
Listening to what, you ask?
Listening to Jesus Christ Superstar, my friends. Thank you, Lori, from this post at Lori’s Lane for the inspiration!
How many of you can sing the entire score? If you can, shall we Skype and sing it together? (Just kidding. I’m not singing in public. Even in the relative “private” of Skype, thank you very much.)
If you want to listen to the ENTIRE 1970 CD here’s your Easter weekend jamming:
Posted in March 2013
Tagged church, Jesus, Jesus Christ Superstar, Judas, life, memories, music, religion, rock opera, spirituality, thoughts