MrsJLW's Soundings from the Sandbar

Look it Up!

2008-10-10T13:05:00.002-04:00

First of all, may I just say that I love my washer and dryer? We bought our old set used and they lasted for 8 years. I began to notice that our clothing didn't smell clean, that it took 3x as long to dry, and then finally, the dryer just quit altogether.

We made the investment in front loading machines. If you don't have one, get one.

What used to take all day now only takes all morning. What used to be 5 loads of laundry (for Himself and me) is now only two loads. What used to be 40 gallons of water per load is now, I believe, only 15! (Ok, I don't know the exact statistics on that last one, but I know it's amazing.)

Amazing is the word I use instead of awesome. It was hard for this Southern California gal to do, but I'm understanding how only God and His attributes are truly awesome, if you look up the definition of the word.

Speaking of looking up definitions:

Glenna, from the couch: Mom, what does "diadem" mean?

Mom: It's . . . wait a minute. Is this a word you're supposed to be looking up yourself?

Glenna: It says you may have to look it up.

Mom: There's no may about it. Look it up.

Smarty Farty Glenna: Ok, I am looking up at you and I'm asking. What's the definition of "diadem?"

I should have seen that one coming.

To All the W Grandmas Out There . . .

2008-10-09T20:39:00.006-04:00

. . . and you know who you are!

Us W's went with our amazing friend, Matt, and had some pictures taken. Here's a little taste of what will be coming to your mailbox soon!

Note: Soon = as soon as I can figure out which ones to send, find an empty spot on my calendar, and get them to you! I'm predicting Christmas. Does that spoil the surprise?

Say What You Want

2008-10-08T09:18:00.008-04:00

*Note: all images taken from the web. I wish they were mine!

As a little girl, one of my favorite family activities was attending ropings and rodeos every weekend. The horses, the cattle, the cowboys, the swishing ropes, even the scent of dirt and manure brought a wholesome feeling of safety, adventure, and community. This was where we belonged, and this is where we worked all week long to return.

The children had many jobs at these events. For one, it was our job to dress the part. Cowboy hats, jeans, boots, and long-sleeved shirts were standard fare. If you were my brother, Boyd, you also walked around with your tongue firmly planted in your cheek to make it look as if you were chewing tobacco (a habit which Dad cured him of permanently in another story).

Another job was to warm up the horses before the roping, and then cool them down afterward. It doesn't take much to figure out that this was our favorite job!

You can bet the little girls on this horse are in heaven. When we were very little, the cowboys would lead us around the arena to cool the horse down. Once we could handle the horse on our own, it was heady stuff to sit up there alone! (The worst part was waiting for the cowboys to quit jawin' and start leading!)

The most important job we had, however, was working the back chutes.

At a team roping, the header would rope the horns of the steer, dally the rope around his saddle horn, then turn the steer to make it easy for his partner, the heeler, to rope the back feet. The object was to catch the horns of the steer and both back feet as fast as possible, the fastest time winning the prize. The clock started when the front chute opened and the steer released, and it ended when both partners were facing eachother on their horses with the steer stretched out between them.

The cowboy holding the flag would then wave the flag downward and the timer (usually my mom and her friends) would stop the clock. They would look to the flagger to see if there were any penalties to add to the time such as breaking the barrier, only catching one foot, or missing altogether, and then record the time.

This team has just left the front chutes. The cowboy in the red shirt releases the steer when the header nods his head, then closes the chute doors and readies the next steer for the next team. The back chutes are waaaaay down at the other end of the arena.

Then, the cowboys would turn their horses and guide the steer to us, waiting in the back chutes. It was our job to remove the ropes from the horns and heels of the cattle. This was usually easy if it was a clean catch -- the rope went evenly around the horns (not in the dreaded Figure 8 pattern or around the neck!), and if both back feet were caught the steer would kick off the rope on the way to the back chute. If only one heel was caught, we had to use a long iron hook to pull the rope off the heel while the steer tried to kick the hook out of our hands.

All of this had to be done as quickly as possible to make room for the next team, so one kid would handle the head rope, another kid would handle the heel rope, and yet another would be ready to run the rope out to the cowboy if he had dropped it on the ground. The last thing you want is a cowboy forced to dismount! The kid working the head rope usually got to jump up and grab another rope to open the back chute and let the steer into the pen after everything was done. Almost every cowboy said thank you when their ropes were returned - each and every time, all day long.

This is what a stripping chute looks like, except ours never had a back gate or the step on the side. It would be located in the back of the arena as an opening in the fence and the steer would run for it. One of the team members would simply put his horse directly behind the steer and keep it from backing out until we were finished.

Lastly, when all the steers had run, it was our job to bring them back up to the front chutes. There was an alley made of fence rails on one side of the arena that connected the back chutes with the front chutes. I thought nothing of it at the time, but it was a pretty brave thing to walk behind a herd of steers and move them down the length of the arena. I learned early on how scared they were of someone waving their arms around, even if the arm waver was a little kid. Now, that's power! I respected them, but I wasn't afraid of them.

If you were lucky enough to work the back chutes at a particular arena, payment would follow. At some arenas, payment would be a Pepsi and a Snickers bar (see why I loved it so much?). At some arenas, we would be paid in cold, hard cash. Songer's arena in Escondido, California, paid us both. We'd get to head to the snack bar during a break, and we'd be paid in cash at the end of the day. If you were really lucky, a cowboy would let you hop on the back of his horse during the break or at the end of the day and give you a ride back up to the front of the arena!

How I loved those cowboys, with Dad being my favorite (but don't tell him that). Each of them had a different profession, most of them were veterans of some branch of military service. They let me ride their horses, they teased me unmercifully, but they never disrespected me. I had starry-eyed admiration for each and every one of them and I was determined to marry them all. In fact, it wasn't hard to picture marrying them since one, John M., told me each time he saw me that we would marry. He assured me that his wife was getting old and long in the tooth and wouldn't be around much longer; I just needed to wait for him. "Wait for me, Curly. Wait for me!"

One roping weekend is permanently imbedded in my memory.

We were at Songer's and I was working the back chute. Along one side of this arena was a huge stack of hay bales for Songer's cattle and horses. It was time for a break and John M. was (joy!) picking me up to give me a ride on the back of his horse, Barney, so I could get my Pepsi and Snickers bar.

A long-haired, shirtless hippie had climbed onto the top of the hay bales. Obvioulsy drunk, from that position he was yelling insults at the cowboys, particularly at John M. I couldn't hear everything he was saying, but the word redneck was definitely one of them. I was scared to death. I looked up at John on his horse and he was the picture of calm. He extended his hand to help me on, looked me in the eye and said, "Don't pay any attention to him, Curly. Don't give him any mind at all."

I was scared, all right, but I wasn't scared of the hippie. I was scared for him. He obviously had no idea who he was talking to. Any one of the cowboys could have beaten the living tar out of him, especially the one he was insulting directly, who spoke to me so calmly. John M. is a Marine, trained to kill. (I say is, because once a Marine, always a Marine.) My own step-Dad served in the army and spent his days afterward lifting an anvil and swinging a sledge hammer - his fists and biceps were rock hard. Let's face it - with the work they did around horses and cattle, these cowboys were not soft. I was afraid not of the fool, but of what was going to happen to the fool. How dare he, and now he was gonna get it and where can I hide so I don't have to watch?

I don't remember what happened to him. I think maybe the police were called and he was told to leave amidst his shouts of free country and I can say what I want, it's a free country, etc. (Free country, but private property. Get lost.) The irony is that most of those cowboys, John M. included, have served time in the military in order for him to have that freedom of speech. The very people he was insulting were the ones who fought and watched their buddies die, precisely so he could climb on top of a stack of hay bales and say whatever his drunken, hippie-heart wanted to say. This was the 1970's and Vietnam was fresh in all of our minds. I'd bet my bottom dollar that he didn't serve, though.

While this post started as a childhood memory, I can't help but take a moment to thank all my cowboys (even the ones now in heaven). Thank you for not beating up the hippie that day. Thank you for your kindness and encouragement to this little girl, and for letting me ride your horses. And thank you, especially in this political season, for fighting for our freedom in the military. I may not like what the extreme liberals or extreme right have to say, but I thank you for ensuring they have the right to say it.

Changes

2008-10-04T10:31:00.003-04:00

Friday night was probably the last show of Evangelin as we know it (Beefy has exited the building). I'm excited to see what God is doing in the lives of these boys!

Tyler stepped off the stage with his face bleeding. He played so hard he broke a stick, and it bounced up and hit him in the face.

Rock and Roll.

I tried to upload a video clip, but it's not working. Sorry about that.

Tyler put together this video. It's a poor recording on my little camera of one of their live shows in Ocala. He took the video and combined it with their actual CD recording. There's only a few places that are off - one is where he added a fill that's not on the CD. Other than that, it's a great testimony of their precision. I love how Ty's playing and every part of him is moving, but he still can't sit still! He literally comes up off his seat. People who meet him and don't know the kind of drummer he is think he's quiet and reserved at first. :-D

Today was also a fun day . . . we went to Park Ave with our friend Snyder and took some family pictures. You hear that, Mom and Mom C??? Pictures coming soon! The last family portrait we did was when we lived in our second Florida home, almost 7 years ago. Snyder did an incredible job with the goofballs he had to work with. I highly recommend him!

Busy Season

2008-10-02T20:57:00.001-04:00

I am doing a trade show this week, plus all other life's activities. Hope to get a blog out soon because MAN! A trade show is so rich in material! ;-)

Excellence

2008-09-26T08:37:00.004-04:00

Here's to all the moms who give excellence every day!

I know, I know, it's not even Mother's Day. However, it would be so easy for you to tune out and "hope for the best." Instead, you show up, suit up, and serve.

People, who are around your kids regularly, notice.

People who will eventually hire your kids will notice.

I notice.

And, I thank you.

And I especially thank YOU, Mom. You're the best!

Falling into Florida

2008-09-22T08:00:00.002-04:00

Heard around our house:

Tomorrow is the first day of fall.

Hooray! Only two more months of summer!

It's so hard not to be envious of other bloggers who are reporting frost warnings, a nip in the air, sweaters, and a harvest moon.

In 1995 I had written in my journal, I feel like we're going to be moving out of state. I hope it's anywhere but Florida. How God must have smiled at that! For I know the plans I have for you . . . He had so much to teach us and we had to leave our comfort zone in order for Him to do so. Florida, in this time and in this church body, was perfect.

Last night I was up late talking with the older two. They were expressing their appreciation of the way they have been raised. I felt so blessed.

I may have never wanted to live in Florida, but I am so, so glad to be here.

The Beast

2008-09-19T12:04:00.006-04:00

Many years ago in a far-off place, a young lad stalked a Beast.

Ok, it wasn't a far-off place. It was at Sam Ash Music. But still, he stalked it and hunted it. He pursued it relentlessly until it had nowhere else to go.

The kindly salesman was used to seeing the young lad enter the store with stars in his eyes. Each time he did, the kindly salesman would answer his questions, bring in a cord, and let him turn it on.

Finally, the day arrived that would change the sound at the Sandbar for years to come. The young lad once again walked into Sam Ash, once again asked all the questions he already knew the answers to, and once again plugged in the cord.

"Shall I put it away now?" asked the kindly salesman when he was finished.

"Not today!" replied the young lad.

Finally, after two years of saving birthday money, Christmas money, and coin from the occasional odd job, the young lad had enough to purchase not only the 700 watt amp head, but the 800 watt cabinet.

"You gotta respect a man who buys his own equipment," the kindly salesman remarked. "Got nothing but respect for a kid who doesn't let Mommy or Daddy get it for him."

After receiving the sales slip from the kindly salesman, the young man walked up to the pay counter and made the purchase. Without really looking at the receipt, the clerk automatically asked, "Would you like a bag for that?"

Without blinking or hesitation, the young lad replied, "Yes, please."
The clerk finally realized the joke was on her and laughed. All were smiling at Sam Ash that day! Perhaps some of them wondered if the young lad would return, now that he'd accomplished his goal.

Proudly, the young man and his family hauled the Beast home. He plugged it in and turned it on. With his entire family sitting on the couch, he hit the E string of his bass guitar.

His family thrilled at the vibration and cheered! It was better than a ride at Disney!

For the next four years, the Beast was part of the family. It showed up at every event in the young man's home.
It attended his sister's eleventh birthday.

It listened attentively to Spanish II with profesora Sarita.

In fact, there are few home pictures without the Beast in them. There were even times when it held flowers, notebooks, bags, and the occasional sweater that was air drying.

Its most important job, however, was making the cups dance in the cupboard.
Some amazing sounds have come out of this Beast!

Now, however, since the Truth has arrived and the other bass player has his own beast, it's time for this Beast to go and rock other homes. There's a guy coming over tonight to check it out.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to handle an amp-free decor but I might, I just might, rearrange the cups in the hutch. Or, in tribute to the Beast, I may leave them as they are.

The Fate of the Apple

2008-09-16T21:49:00.002-04:00

There's a scene in the sitcom, Family Ties, where Alex (Michael J. Fox) is watching his mother (Meredith Baxter) prepare a school lunch for his little brother. He watches as she places each item into the lunch box.

Alex: We don't eat that, you know.
Mom: What?
Alex: The apple. We don't eat the apple.
Mom: What do you mean?
Alex: We always go straight for the cookies, try to trade for the sandwich, save the chips for later, and the apple goes into the trash.
Mom: I know! I know! But it's my job as Mommy to put the apple in the lunch!

These past three weeks, I have been making lunches for Tyler to take to work. He worked at the track for three years, but the track was not an environment to encourage sack lunches or meals from home. At his new job, however, they're about making money and saving money towards better goals than fast food lunches. Tyler has been extremely grateful for the lunches I send him and always makes a point to tell me how much he enjoyed his sandwich/spaghetti/pork chops and other goods.

It's been kind of fun, actually. I've tried making lunches for Himself before, but he was fussy about what he liked and didn't like and I stopped trying. In all fairness, lunch in the desert in the 115 degree heat was literally no picnic. It felt good to step into a fast food joint to get out of the heat, plus the condition of whichever lunch I sent, no matter how I tried to keep it cool, was usually less than appetizing.

During Ty's stint in public school (until 3rd grade) I started out making lunches, but it became much easier (read lazier) to send some cash with him to school. Then he homeschooled for the next 9 years and there was no need to send anything.

Between Tyler's job, Kelly's job, and Glenna's crazy Wednesday where she needs to pack a lunch, I've been buying lunch supplies for the kids rather than expecting them to scavenge from leftovers or make PBJs. I try to keep to healthy items, but I've also broken down and purchased the chips, cookies, puddings, and ranch dip that make a lunch bag fun to open. Tyler comes down the stairs promptly at 7:30 a.m., oohs and aahs as he digs through his brown bag of goodies, gives me a hug and heads out the door. Like the Mom in Family Ties, I've made sure there's a sandwich, carrots with ranch dip, pudding, chips, and some kind of fruit. Usually, the fruit is a nice Granny Smith apple.

Today I was out of apples, so I stuck in a plum. At dinner he informed me that he doesn't care for plums and didn't eat it (I knew that but was hoping he'd be hungry enough to try it anyway). It was then I learned the fate of all the apples last week.

Evidently, the apples had been used for experiments at the shop. Experiments, that is, with explosives. Each experiment has been progressively dangerous and inventive, the last one involving at 1/2" drill bit, a fire cracker, and propane. He said they were unable to find any remains of the apple at all on that one.

Do I even want to know this?

Should I be thankful I was able to contribute, in some small way, to their pyrotechnical education?

Maybe I should send some canned peaches instead.

Class Time

2008-09-15T18:21:00.008-04:00

In this, our 11th year of homeschooling, Glenna has reached a milestone. She is finally taking a class from someone other than her mother. That's her with her head turned, but I don't know if she actually knew I was taking a picture. The girl is not camera shy.

I am so thankful for the homeschool community here. We are able to help each other out in weak areas :cough: Algebra :cough: so we're never left feeling like we have to do this all alone. For years, my older two have taken English composition with Mrs. R. While I teach this class myself now, if Mrs. R is teaching it next year then Glenna will be taking it with her. Hear that, Mrs. R? Add Glenna to your list! She's simply excellent. Her clear, concise instruction allows students to tackle any writing assignment with confidence and skill. Plus, Glenna will have to work much harder than she does with moi and I'm ready to giggle with glee over that.

Tyler and Kelly have taken science classes with Mrs. S., and it's an honor and privilege for them to do so. Mrs. S. is a marine biologist who has chosen to stay home and school her own children. In fact, she wrote the Marine Biology textbook for Apologia Science, which is the curriculum we use! She has a passion for science and brings it to life for her students. We were fortunate to get in on General science and make her "list." She only offers a few classes per year because she basically invites other homeschoolers to join in on whichever science she's teaching her own children, and there's usually a waiting list of students trying to get into her classes. Emily is Glenna's age, so hopefully Glenna will be able to join them for Physical science, Biology and either Chemistry (hah!) or Marine Biology (preferred). If Mrs. S. doesn't teach Marine Biology to Emily, I'll have to bribe Mrs. RZoo with chocolate chip cookies to do it.

Here are the mostly 7th grade students for General Science. They are too cute, and they can't help it. I love middle school kids!

Wednesdays are our crazy days. If it's my turn to do the carpool to science, we both pack a lunch. We drive to two carpool stops, go to Mrs. S., then head back half-way to exchange one student for two more. Then we head to Mrs. RZoo's house for Marine Biology with Mrs. RZoo and Sewing with Mrs. G. Kelly has already been picked up by Mrs. G. and we meet her there (our first greeting of the day). Glenna has been working on various sewing projects while Kelly does Marine Biology. We then leave half the carpool with Mrs. G. for transport, head back to my house with Kelly, Kate, Chico, and Glenna, do some dance lessons or more craziness, then dinner and AWANA. Wednesdays are very long days!

Still, I am so thankful that I can be home with this face.
This face, and a couple of others.

Sweetheart, I'd even do algebra for you. Just please, don't ask me to! Allie B? Next year?

Off for the Weekend!

2008-09-12T08:10:00.003-04:00

That's an older comic strip by Zits that I love. I wish I had a large print of it so I could frame it! Tyler and I crack up at the Zits stuff because so often it's spot-on to where we are between mother and son. These days, though, it's different. I don't have to chase him down for hugs anymore, and his "I love you" often comes before mine. I can honestly say I have loved each and every phase of being his mother, even the difficult tween years. He'd be perfect if it weren't for his sin nature. ;-)

I'm off to the Women's Retreat, so I probably won't post again until Sunday or Monday. I'll be at the beach with my toes in the sand! Hope you all have a great weekend!

Monday through Sunday: Remembering....

2008-09-11T09:25:00.000-04:00

Monday through Sunday: Remembering.... Please click on this link for an amazing tribute.

Here at the Sandbar, I'm taking some time to remember . . .

. . . .and Never Forget.

I love you all, friends and family!

For Jaan!

2008-09-09T21:14:00.004-04:00

You're five years old today! (Today for you, but I am probably still sleeping while you read this!)

You have had more adventures than most adults will have, and you are only 5 years old. I am so thankful that God has allowed us to have even a small part in your life. We're excited to see what God has planned for you! Your sisters are so blessed to have you as their big brother, to help Mama and Papa teach and guide them.

Here's a picture of Glenna and her new puppy, Missy. They made the sign for you:
They added suns because of our Florida sunshine. Glenna suggested that we eat brownies for your birthday. We may just have to do that.

So enjoy your first birthday in the Ukraine. I pray the Lord gives you many, many more, wherever your parents are serving Him! You are loved!

Russia, First Co-op

2008-09-08T07:30:00.009-04:00

I know I placed the second co-op pictures up, but the babushki were so cute I couldn't resist. This was actually our first Russian co-op.

To understand how large Russia is, we first had to take a look at the entire globe. As a review for Glenna and Rachel, we had them turn their classmates into human globes.

On Elise's forehead is her North Pole sticker. The line of blue painter's tape is the prime meridian.
The post-its on her arms show the directions of east and west.

The belt around Jordan's waist is of course the equator. His North Pole seems to have slipped to his nose. You can see the South Pole on his shoe.

Josh's necklace is the Arctic Circle. I think the International Date Line going down his back may be causing him fits.

Here's all three globes! I'm not sure why they're holding their arms out like that, unless they were wanting to look round like a globe.

We discovered Russia has ten time zones! (Some sources say eleven.) We also took a look at the different types of land in Russia; tundra, taiga, and steppes.
To remember these, we placed tree leaves in one bowl for forests (taiga), and ice in another bowl for tundra (frozen). You can barely see the ice in front of Rachel.

A third bowl had grass for the steppe.
We then passed the bowls around in a circle rapidly. When I said, "Stop!" everyone had to say whether they had the tundra, taiga, or steppe. For the rest of the week, the children were to learn about different vegetation and animals for each area.

There's no co-op today because of a school meeting, which is disappointing! Next up: Vikings!

For the Hunsuckers

2008-09-01T15:32:00.000-04:00

Dear Hunsuckers,

We have started our study of Russia. For me, it means I think of each of you every day! I know you are now in the Ukraine, but I also know we will learn so much about the land you love. I wanted to give you a peek into one of our first co-ops with the L family and the other W family.

We began this week by learning about the Slavic peoples. We drew pictures of what a Slav village may have looked like in the marsh land where they lived. We drew houses on stilts with lots of animal skins and carvings.

Then, we learned about babushkas! We decided to make our own miniature babushkas from eggs and other edible ingredients.

Here's Elise, hard at work:

She loves her babushka! Carrot hair, cloves for eyes, and a carrot mouth.

Here's Jordan's babushka. He didn't want to use any glue on his because he wanted to eat it afterwards. We took the picture quickly before everything slid off:
The green olives are supposed to be for her cheeks, but he kind of made them earrings instead.

This is Josh, and it's his first year of home schooling! I don't know what he may have been expecting, but I bet he wasn't expecting this!

Josh inherited his mother's craft gene. As in, please don't ask me to do crafts. I'm so proud of him for jumping in and doing it anyway.

Glenna and Rachel have already had a year of co-ops together (as well as Jordan and Elise, though we missed having them last year). They got right to work.

Here's Rachel's babushka! Her green olives are closer to the cheek area, which is good. Still, I wonder if we should have used something else there, like pimientos.

Lastly, I must think Glenna more closely captured the spirit of the babushka with this:
What do you say, Mrs. Hunsucker?

:-D

Because of Winn-Dixie

2008-08-29T21:57:00.009-04:00

From Salinas, California, to Orlando, Florida, my brother and his driving partner hauled a load of blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries. When they arrived at the WD warehouse, their load was refused.

My brother, Boyd, says his partner has never had this happen to him before. I told them, "Welcome to Florida." :-(

Since they weren't allowed to unload, they had to scramble to find a place who would take the load. This took most of the day since it was already unloaded at the WD warehouse, waited for inspection, then refused, then had to be reloaded. At 5:30 pm he called and told me they had to be in Atlanta by morning, so he wouldn't be able to stay the night.

We quickly drove up to where the semi was parked so we could have a few hours with him. As we arrived and I saw him sitting in the cab of his truck, I said to Himself and the girls, "Oh Lord, he looks exactly the same!"

Meanwhile, Boyd was saying to his partner in the cab of the truck, "Oh Lord, she looks just like my mom!" :-D

I couldn't stop hugging him, and we both had tears on our cheeks. He met Glenna for the first time! Ty was playing a show in Lakeland, hoping to catch up with Uncle Boyd this evening. Unfortunately, he had to miss seeing him.

We had until 8:30 while his driving partner slept, so we drove him back to our house to sit a spell. We talked and talked, we called my Dad, and too soon we had to drive him back to the truck.

It's so unusual to see him scruffy like this. He had been on the road since Tuesday and his partner isn't fond of stopping long enough for showers. Back in CA, Boyd would stop, take a shower, get a haircut, and hit the road again. His shirt was always tucked and he was always clean-shaven.

To me, he looked great!
Glenna said he looked like Grandma Ya Ya and me. I laughed and told her a lot of people have said that all our lives, but he's actually my adopted brother. Still, he's mine and I claim him as such and always will!

When we got back to the truck, he offered to give us some strawberries. Himself kept trying to refuse, but Glenna and I love strawberries! It's one of the few fruits I can eat.

Their truck was parked right next to this sign:
Their welcome in Florida keeps getting warmer and warmer, doesn't it?

What's wrong with this load, I ask you? Nothing! Thanks, Winn-Dixie. It could have been fun.

Not that I'll hold a grudge or anything.

His driving partner said he may come to Florida once in a while and could even drop him off for a week or so. Boyd wasn't excited about driving to Florida again . . . he's actually been working as a semi truck mechanic and prefers that to being on the road these days. I can't blame him, it's a hard life. Still, he said he'd consider a visit. I hope he does.

So thank you to all the truckers, and thank you to this truck owner for bringing my brother to me, even if it was only for 2.5 hours! Every minute was worth it.

Flippin' Out

2008-08-29T13:05:00.003-04:00

My brother, whom I haven't seen in about 12 years or talked to since we moved to Florida, is here. In Orlando!!!

When we lived in California, we lived right off I-10. He drove a semi and would stop in for coffee, haircut, meal, whatever. We never knew when he'd be knocking at our door.

Today, he called! He's dropping off a load in Orlando, and his partner is going to continue on to Miami solo and then pick him up in the morning.

I am beside myself! Camera ready!

Making Home: Knowing God: The Study of God

2008-08-28T08:29:00.000-04:00

Making Home: Knowing God: The Study of God

Well, what do you know! I could have made a link to this post like this! :-) Click on either one of them.

An Excellent Post

2008-08-28T08:24:00.001-04:00

Jess, over at Making Home, has put up such a fantastic post today. It perfectly expressed how I feel about studying theology (which I love to do) but not doing so simply to puff up with knowledge.

A disclaimer: While the articles on Jess's site are excellent and thoroughly Biblical, some of them are mature subject matters. Use discretion when letting your "little eyes" on the site. The article I've linked to is fine.

School Days and Migraine Update

2008-08-25T19:59:00.002-04:00

Our first week of school passed smoothly.

Too smoothly.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely, I can't be getting up on time, having quiet time, eating healthfully, checking school work daily, and preparing meals. Surely, we haven't finished actual projects. Surely, we don't have supplies readily available and in their place!

It's too good to be true. It probably also explains why AWANA is starting this week. Have you ever been on a merry-go-round, spinning along at your own leisurely pace, when suddenly your teen brother runs by and sends you spinning so quickly you can barely hold on? AWANA will probably be the teen brother to my merry-go-round!

In other news, I had blogged here about my migraines and a diet that was supposed to cure them. I started this in April, so it's been 4 months. Though I haven't followed it perfectly (I often forget which items in the list of ingredients that are actually MSG) I have followed it pretty generally. Here are the results so far:

I feel great.

I feel amazingly great.

I've lost 12 lbs.

Except for the first two weeks, any headache I've gotten has either been cyclical, or I ate something I shouldn't have. Even so, I would take Naproxen, go to bed, and be fine. No need for two days of agony. No need to shut the blinds and pray for mercy. No need for my family to try to function quietly without me so they don't disturb me.

I am so thankful, and yet thankful isn't a strong enough word!

I sometimes (like now) feel like I have a dull headache, but I also know I've been eating my favorite chipotle cheese and lime dip from Costco so it's no less than I diserve. Still, I am upright and functioning fully!

Since it's been 4 months, I'm now ready to start re-introducing foods to see if they trigger migraines. I'm really hoping bananas are ok. I'm really hoping avocados are ok, too. This California girl is crippled without them!

I actually don't miss the cheese so much. What I miss are lattes! Still, I've saved money and lost weight without them. There are just certain times of the month when I. Want. Chocolate. Don't give me that psuedo white chocolate poser, either. If I can't have the real thing, I won't have anything.

So, it's working out.

Here's the book, if anyone else is tired of being in pain.

An Irish-Catholic Tale, Part VI

2008-08-23T06:35:00.005-04:00

It has already been mentioned that the girl to the far left of the picture is 10 year old Sara. She's wearing a dress she made herself out of flour sacks. While that may have been the beginning of her sewing projects, it certainly wouldn't be the last. What would come to an end, just a few years from when this picture was taken, was her formal education. But quitting formal schooling cannot mean that Sara was uneducated. Perhaps she was the first homeschooler in the family? We've simply followed in her footsteps!

Sara was a gifted and self-taught artist, seamstress, poet, barber/hair stylist, cook, and graphologist. Thankfully, she was quick to share her talents with others.

Who knows exactly when the first call for help came to Sara? All that's really known is that she was needed, badly, and she was more than willing to come with her suitcases in her hands. In the early 20's through the 60's, it wasn't unheard of for multiple generations to live together to share the work and expenses. Young Sara was needed to help her sisters in raising their children. The first one who needed her had only one young son.

Marjorie, standing behind her mother Nellie in the photo, was suffering from tuberculosis. Still a scary disease today, the effects of tuberculosis back then were devastating. At this time, the entire U family was living in Minnesota, which was hardly a climate friendly to tuberculosis. It was decided in 1918 that Sara would move with Marjorie to California in hopes that the warm climate would help Marjorie recover. Grandpa U moved the rest of the family to Los Angeles to join them in 1920, though oldest daughter, Maime, stayed in Minnesota at first with her husband and their young children, where she was visited by her younger brother, Matt, and his fun-loving friend, Chet.

The move didn't have the effect on Marjorie that was hoped. She died at age 22, leaving her husband and 2 year old son behind.

Next to need Sara was her sister, Taddy. She and her husband, Frank, lived in Long Beach and had five children. Frank spent his days at the oil fields of Long Beach. With Marjorie gone, it seemed logical that Sara would come to help with the children and household chores when Taddy went to work to help a bad financial time.

Eventually, Maime and her family came to California as well. Though Maime's not in this picture, I suspect it was taken at the time that Sarah was living with Maime and her brood in Randsburg, an old mining town in the Mojave Desert, California. There Sara had a dry goods store called Sara's Shop. Not bad for a girl with a 6th grade education!

Here, Sara's in the top row, far left. Her parents are on the far right. In the front row is her youngest brother, Bill. Taddy's on the far right. Aunt Mary Ann notes that she had never seen Sara looking so glamorous.

But back at the bungalow in Hawthorne, things had been going downhill fast for Rosie. When she was just the age of 35, her husband had died of complications due to alcoholism, and now she had five children to raise on her own.

She may have thought about moving her own parents into the detached garage, which had long been converted into a room for the two boys, John and Terry. Sadly, her mother died the same year Rosie lost her husband, 1945, but Grandpa Matt soon moved into the garage with the boys.

While she cared for her children and cooked Grandpa Matt his favorite Irish meals - boiled ham, cabbage, oatmeal, fried scrapple with syrup, and lots of potatoes - it was becoming harder and harder to go it alone. Aunt Mary Ann writes:

Our mom was one of the earliest to qualify for a new, recently created government assistance program called "Aid to Families with Dependent Children", AFDC, or as it's most often called today, "welfare." She often said that ours was exactly the situation that the program was made for — a mother with small children, suddenly left a widow without financial support. She received a small amount of money for each minor child. It added up to something like $160 per month, and she was careful to make it last. They had made the final payment on the house just weeks before my dad died.

In fact, Chet and Rosie had been looking for a larger home. Rosie became so thankful that they never moved! She would not have been able to afford a house payment.

Aunt Mary Ann also writes:

Johnny (age 12) started working at part time jobs to help my mom right from the time our dad died. He worked at a place called "Hammond Eggs," an egg and poultry ranch, and he worked in a tool and die place and various other jobs while going to high school. He often hitch-hiked to school. My mother used to feel embarrassed and a little angry when the "worker" (a social worker) would make unannounced visits to our house to make sure there was no fraud going on with the assistance. She mainly looked for evidence of a man living there or some sign that we didn't really need the money. Once Johnny's clodhopper shoes were on the floor in the living room (he was about fifteen at the time) and they made the social worker very suspicious. My mother hated having to explain about her growing son and feel defensive when she was barely able to put food on the table.

Still, she carried on until the baby, Rita, was ready for school. Ultimately, she knew it was time to work full time. Who would care for the house and children? What Rosie really needed was a wife!

Who on earth should she call?
Thankfully, she didn't call Scary Nana with Black Cats. She was pretty well entrenched with Helen and Joe. Besides, her health was frail and there was that whole pious and solemn thing. Rosie tried to keep her home a house of fun and laughter, so that would never do.

But there was one who was born for a life of service to others. Rosie must have thought about her sister and the visit she and little Johnny paid to her so many years (and children) ago in the desert. Would she drop everything and come? It would mean the world to Rosie if she did.

Of course, Sara did. She moved in with Rosie in 1950. Rosie was so relieved to know her children would be in Sara's excellent care while she went off to work. Sara would be the one to prepare the meals and keep the house in order. She would also teach each of the girls to sew, cook, clean, crochet, and take care of themselves. Again from Aunt Mary Ann:

Aunt Sara was a great seamstress, and she made clothes for us. Before she came, we got mostly charity donations. We did have to buy school uniforms, and I remember it was a big expense for us. We wore them until they were faded and falling apart.

Everyone seemed thrilled with the arrangement. Everyone, that is, except this little girl:
This is my MIL, Kathleen, at age 2. She tells the story of Sara's arrival with a smile and a twinkle in her eye, now, but it wasn't so amusing to her back then. Eight year old Kathleen had her mother's number, and she liked it that way. As she tells it, she pretty much did as she pleased. For example, if she didn't like what Rosie had prepared for supper she would simply head to the kitchen and fix herself a sandwich.

Then Sara moved in.

Their first dinner together was a meal Kathleen didn't particularly care for. As usual, she headed for the kitchen to make herself a sandwich. Sara exerted her authority then and there by calling Kathleen back to the table. She could either eat what was prepared or she could go hungry.

The horror! Her days of manipulating her mother and doing as she pleased were over.

Still, it was a win-win situation for all involved. The children thrived, and all came to have a special love and reverence for Sara. Aunt Mary Ann remembers how excited Sara would be when the girls were in high school and would bring home their new literature books. Sara would devour them. Sara and Rosie would also teach them all, in subversive ways, never to take themselves or their difficulties too seriously, which Aunt Mary Ann correctly labels as both a blessing and a curse.

Rosie and her children, c. 1958. Top row: Rosie, John (26), Terry (20). Bottom row: the amazingly beautiful trio of Rita (14), Mary Ann(18), and Kathleen (16). Uncle Terry refers to these as the "porcelain portraits" because of the way every blemish was removed.

Grandpa Matt lived in the garage room with the two boys until his death in 1948, just two years before Sara moved in. But he wasn't the only male from the U family who would eventually live in that room.

Her two brothers, Matt and Bill, also suffered from the disease of alcoholism. They came to Rosie's house on and off over the years as the children were growing up, sometimes sober, usually not. After sobering up at Rosie's, they often stuck around and did various repair jobs and yard work. They collaborated on building a large addition to the bungalow on the back of the house. At first, it was the three girls' bedroom, and then it became Sara's room after all the girls moved out.

This is a 1960's photo of Sara, Bill, Rosie, Nora, and Taddy. Bill mysteriously stopped drinking in the 60's after a head injury. He stayed in Hawthorne with Rosie's friend, Irene, until his death in 1987 (just a few days before Irene died herself).

Sara, Taddy, Rosie, and Nora. Both photos were from Rosie's back yard. This one was probably from the 1970's, shortly before the deaths of Taddy and Nora.

Things were going well for the R family, but there were many trials still ahead. The boys had completed their education in very different ways. Each of the girls finished their high school educations, taking the same (and one very different) paths.

Oh, and the best was still to come!

An Irish-Catholic Tale, Part V

2008-08-22T06:35:00.023-04:00

In the early 1930's, Rosie had a bright and glorious future ahead of her. Her brother, Matt, was bringing that fun-loving Chet around quite a bit. Her sister, Nora, was about to become a Sister. Hopefully, that would later carry some weight with Mary Agnes.

Here's Rosie and her mother, Nellie, dressed for her sister's Profession.
I have to admit that when Aunt Mary Ann sent me the photo and it read "Nellie and Rosie (Nora's profession)," I thought it meant that Nora's profession was as a photographer, and her mother and sister were posing for her! It wasn't until I read all the biographies that I understood what profession meant in this case.

At any rate, I love the hats, the shoes, the dress suits. I love how neat and pulled-together they look!

Rosie seemed to have a playful side. The picture below shows her with her sister the Sister, Nora. Rosie is dressed as a boy and pretending to smoke a cigarette. She's 14.Rosie was very sociable and always had friends. As a teen and young adult, she loved acting and took advantage of every opportunity to play a part in an amateur stage production. She also loved to read almost as much as she liked to dance. She couldn't hear a beat without moving her feet. She never had a lesson, but Rosie could play the piano by ear pretty well.

Chet was Rosie's kind of guy, a real partying fella. She must have laughed and laughed when he and Matt would talk about their time in Milwaukee and their road trip, or being asked to live in a boarding house by Aunt Kate because of their late hours.

Here's Chet and Rosie's version of a myspace or facebook photo. I'll bet they used one of those old box cameras to get this, then hoped for the best until it developed. Note the matching bathing suits.

From the example her own parents set, Rosie had every reason to smile for the camera on her wedding day. She was fully prepared to be married, care for her husband, bear his children, and keep his home. She'd see him off to work in the morning and kiss his cheek when he returned in the evening. Supper would be ready and he would wash up while she set everything out on the table.

For a while, I'm sure that's just how things went. Their firstborn son, John, came in 1932 and is the squirming blond youngster in the very front of the photo. Rosie and Chet are in the back row, far left, and next to Rosie are her parents, Matt and Nellie.
The little girl in the front row, directly in front of Chet, would eventually give birth to an American Icon. But that's another tale for another time.

Rosie's sister, Sara, is standing all the way to the right. Her role in Rosie's life would also come later in the tale.

Coming from such a large family, it was probably hard for Rosie when she had only one child and no others seemed to be coming. At this U family reunion, Rosie is seated on the left, hanging onto John. Her sister the Sister is next to her, and various family is all around. Nieces and nephews had arrived in abundance, but still she had only one.

Rosie, John, and Sara in the desert.

Six years, one miscarriage, and one operation after the birth of John, the children finally began to arrive. That's Terry with Chet.

Arrive they did, every two years, like clockwork.

Terry, 1938. Mary Ann, 1940. Kathleen, 1942. Rita, 1944. I have probably ended any status I may have had in the family by putting up those dates, but there ya go.

Things looked pretty wonderful in the house of Chet and Rosie. It may have seemed to Rosie like she would never please Mary Agnes ("Have children!" "Stop having children!") but in actuality, Mary Agnes was the least of her worries.

Rosie had a secret.

It was a secret, or she was in denial. Either way, it probably would have gone to the grave with her if an irate son hadn't blurted out the truth one day. Back then, women didn't bad-mouth their husbands to anyone who would listen. They didn't go onto talk shows or internet chat rooms and tell the world their problems. In fact, they probably did everything they could to make sure his image was protected, no matter what went on at home.

Chet's image needed protecting. I'm sure their closest family knew, especially Rosie's brother Matt, but no one really talked about it openly.

I remember my mother-in-love showing me this picture of her father. She and her siblings were all laughing about it, because they had reached a point in their lives where they were able to laugh about it! And because I wasn't from an Irish-Catholic background of R-s and U-s, I had to have someone explain to me what was so funny about Chet being on a wagon.

Oh, on the wagon.

Actually, the joke is that this was probably the only time he was on the wagon!

Chet, the fun-loving guy Rosie fell in love with, struggled with the disease of alcoholism. His late-night ways continued even after the children began to arrive and Rosie had so much on her hands. The thing about society back then, however, was that it probably did everything it could to discourage alcoholics from finding the help they needed.

Don't say anything about it to him. He's had a hard day at work and deserves a drink.

Don't tell anyone else.

Don't let anyone know how bad it really is.

Cover it up. After all, he's not a drunk! A drunk is someone you see on the street, the bums with the brown paper bags. Chet's a respectable man and goes to work! He's not a bum. If he lost another job, it was the fault of the manager/supervisor/co-worker, not his.

Because society forced the cover-up, getting help was rare. Chet's alcoholism was basically unchecked until finally, in 1945, he tried to get help at a "treatment facility." I don't know much about it, but it was probably a place for drunks to dry out and try to start over again.

For Chet, and for Rosie, the "treatment" came too late. On February 5th, 1945, while still in the treatment facility, Chet died.

It was his 42nd birthday.

Rosie, at age 35 and after almost 13 years of marriage, found herself a widow with 5 children.
This is the reason the above photo is the only photo of the entire family. This is the reason the man who walked my mother-in-love down the aisle was not Chet, but her oldest brother, John. At the time of their father's death, John was 12, Terry was 6, Mary Ann was 4, Kathleen was 2, and Rita was not even a year old.

In the biographies, Aunt Mary Ann writes:

In spite of our precarious financial situation, it's a great tribute to our mother that we never felt deprived. We rarely had new clothes or toys, but it didn't matter. I remember Mother trying to decide whether to buy me some needed new shoes or spend the ten dollars on a dental filling. It seemed like a normal dilemma at that time.

Our life seemed rich with fun and imagination and love. We always had nourishing, home-cooked meals, lots of laughs, and the sure sense that our mother would always be there, always take good care of us, and she did.

From that day forward, Rosie knew she had to go it alone. In the above picture, she's with my MIL, Kathleen.
Above are Rita, Kathleen, and grandpa CT (on a rare visit to his home base of California). Alcoholic or no, I can't help but grieve for these two little girls who knew their father the least.

I grieve for all of them, but this isn't an Irish-Catholic story about grief. Far from it! It's an Irish-Catholic story of triumph.
Kathleen and Rita in 2006.

Before it could become a story of triumph, there was a long road to walk. Their walk would become even more interesting with the arrival of one woman:

Sara.

*Please note: All information was taken from conversations over the years. Information was also taken from emails and background biographies from Aunt Mary Ann. Any errors are mine alone! :-)

No Knee Dangling Here

2008-08-21T06:35:00.004-04:00

In the previous segment, I mused about whether Mary Agnes ever helped Rosie with the children, played pat-a-cake with them, or dangled them on her knee. I had forgotten about this photo, also sent by Aunt Mary Ann:

Aunt Mary Ann is not even a year old here. She had written in the photo caption, "Hold me! I'm just a baby!"

At least Scary Nana was willing to crack a smile, and she did let go of that rolled-up newspaper! But, why the rug outside? What's the story?

Please pray

2008-08-20T19:26:00.001-04:00

Please be in prayer for this dear family.

Sweet Baby James.