A Series of Firsts

It occurred to me on my walk this morning that life is defined by a series of firsts. When you're young, it's your first friend, your first kiss, your first job. When you become a parent it's the first tooth, the first word, the first step.

Yesterday was a series of firsts of a different kind. It was our first holiday without my dad. It was the first time my mom did the shopping to stock the bar, it was the first time my brother carved the turkey, and it was the first time someone else occupied the seat at the head of the table. It was the first time I truly felt the emptiness that a loss like this brings and it kept me awake most of the night.

This morning I was talking to my son about starting middle school next year which I know he is nervous about. We talked about how neither of us is entirely thrilled about change but agreed that once you get passed that first day of school, it only gets better. I realized that the same is true about my dad being gone. It's all the series of firsts that we have to get through before it will begin to get any better.

Dick Says Hi

I'm a big believer in life after death. It gives me comfort to think that those I have loved here on earth are still around me in some form or other once they have passed away. It's been almost 4 weeks already since my dad's death, and in that short time, my mom and sister have had three things happen that I think cannot be overlooked.

First of all, they went grocery shopping. When they got home and unloaded the bags, there was a bottle of Pinot Noir wine that neither of them had put in the cart while shopping, or taken out of the cart at the checkout. It was also not on the receipt. My dad always bought the wine, and Pinot Noir is the type my mom drinks.

Second of all, my sister went into my dad's office just a couple of hours before we were to bury him. She was looking for one thing, but instead came across this poem:

To be read when I go to heaven:

Dear God how kind you are to me,
To give me all earth's beauty free.
The birds to sing through all my life,
The flowers to bloom on roads of strife.
The great outdoors where I may roam,
And then a path that leads me home.
A sky of every shade and hue,
And then Dear god, to give me you.

Do you know what the end of a perfect day
Can mean to a tired heart?
When the sun goes down with a flaming ray,
And dear friends have to part.
Well this is the end of that perfect day,
And the end of a journey too.
But it leaves a thought that is big and strong,
With a wish that is kind and true.
For memories have painted this perfect day,
With colors that will never fade.
And we find at the end of this wonderful day,
The souls of the friends that we have made.

-Sylvia

Needless to say, we found it just in time to read it at the grave site.

Finally, we were in Chicago this weekend. On the train ride home, the train stopped outside of Union Station and there was a lot with a bunch of semi trailers parked there. Right in front of my mom's window was a white trailer, painted in big red letters was, "Dick Says Hi".

Now I know that if my dad was still alive, no one may have even noticed these things. My mom may have felt bad for the person in line ahead of her at the grocery store who got home to find that the bagger forgot their bottle of wine. If my sister was in my dad's office getting a pen and saw that poem, she may have read it and thought it was nice and then never thought about it again. And if my mom was on a train coming home from Chicago, she may have never even noticed the lot full of semi trailers let alone read what any of them said.

But the fact-of-the-matter is that my dad is not alive anymore so to us these are more than just coincidences. And for me, as my father, I knew he was always looking out for me. So for me, as his daughter, I believe that he always will.

My Little Amelia Bedelia

I'm pretty sure everyone is familiar with the wacky antics of literary classic Amelia Bedelia. What immediately comes to mind for me is when her employer asked her to "draw the drapes" and she sat down with pen and pad and sketched a picture.

Yesterday my daughter had a field trip to a nature reserve. It is well known around the school to be one of the best field trips, so needless to say, she was pumped. I had to run to Walgreens late the night before to buy her a disposable camera for the trip. As I was looking at the slim offerings, it was killing me to pay almost $8 for a camera when I knew developing was going to be another $10 and from past experience I also knew that most of the photos were going to be of the tip of her finger.

What I didn't realize was that it wasn't going to cost me that much after all. When she came out of school yesterday, she was really excited and telling me all about how much she enjoyed the trip. I inquired about the photos and she said she took some really great ones. Then I asked where the camera was to which she replied matter-of-factly, "I threw it out. It was disposable."

We Did Everything We Could

I can't begin to tell you the number of times I've heard, "We did everything we could" on some sort of hospital drama or soap opera.

Here's two things about that phrase. First of all, actual doctors actually do use it. Second of all, when there's an actual doctor sitting across a table from you in a hospital waiting room, fighting back the tears as he delivers the line, referring to your father, it changes your life forever.

Wednesday night, at a little past 8 o'clock in the evening, my dad passed away. He was not only a man with incredible integrity and unwavering faith, but he also loved me unconditionally for 43 years, 6 months, 14 days, and some odd hours, and that is the loss that I am mourning.

The one thing I know for sure is that he is in a better place, surrounded by people he loves, and that he is at peace. I know this because every time someone died this is what he told me happened. I know this because every time he told me, he did so with sincerity and conviction. And mostly I know this because this is what he believed and I have always believed in my father.

Little Loose Ends

I was just enjoying one of my favorite blogs and am envying how she has entries at least daily. I haven't really had much to say as of late, thus my quiet blog.

A few little things have come up recently that are worth mentioning. I guess you could categorize them as things that make you go hmmmmmm.

A couple of weeks ago I was pulled aside by my neighbor whose daughter plays with my daughter. Apparently, whilst playing in our basement a few days earlier, my daughter said something that hurt the feelings of her daughter and she came home crying. This would explain the hesitation when my daughter was asking her to play.

When I talked to my daughter about it that evening, she said something that I thought was quite insightful. She asked me why boys can get in fights and still be friends? This is something she observed during the countless hours of playing with her brother and all the boys in the neighborhood. What could I say? They just do. Hmmmmmm.

I immediately went into psychologist mode and researched books at the library that would help my daughter and I navigate what I imagine is just the beginning of many, many, many years of this sort of...for lack of a better term...crap!

While browsing through one book, there was a narrative of a study by the author. She would go into a classroom of sixth graders and ask them to imagine that they had been born the opposite sex. Then, they had to quietly make a list the things they thought would be different about being the opposite sex. What was interesting was that all the girls' comments about being a boy were positive with a sense of longing (my dad would spend more time with me, I'd have my own room, I wouldn't care how I looked), while all the boys' comments about being a girl were negative (I wouldn't play baseball for fear of breaking a nail, I'd have to spend lots of time in the bathroom on my hair, I'd have to help cook, I'd worry about getting pregnant.) Hmmmmmm.

Finally, we've had a breakthrough with my son who is not a huge fan of school. Apparently all it takes to peak his interest is to get a cute, young, energetic teacher who sets aside Fridays as the day she eats lunch with them in the cafeteria and goes outside to play during recess. Our walks home this week have been enlightening. He talks all about her and when I asked him today how school was he said, "Awesome!" Hmmmmmm.

Lazy Days of Summer

Tomorrow we go over to the elementary school so the kids can find out who their teachers will be this coming school year. It's hard to believe that summer is almost over. The kids were in camps for the better part of June and July and those always seem to wind down by the first week of August. That's when we try and do some other fun things and get some day trips in.

Twice this summer, our trip to Green Bay to visit my sister was canceled due to illness. One other time she was supposed to come stay with us and that was canceled as well. Needless to say...my daughter was not happy. Quick thinking on my part and incredible hospitality on Uncle Stevie and Aunt Jocelyn's part and we were headed to Evanston, Illinois.

I've only been to Evanston on two other occasions...both times for Badger football games. (Sidenote here...Northwestern campus is, or was, dry. That meant no sitting at a bar for pre-game warm-ups. Being a Wisconsin grad...well, need I say more?)

Today's trip was a totally different experience. It reminded me of our visits to New York to see my brother-in-law. I love to have family excited about where they live and eager to show us around. It's reassuring to know that even though they may no longer be close by, they are in good hands.

We didn't go to any toy stores or children's museums. We didn't go to an arcade or zoo. We just walked around their town and visited some of their favorite spots. Universities, beaches, burger joints, and even a chapel.

The kids were great. Our tour guides were a blast. It was just a lovely summer day.

Flea Market Find

This summer I have discovered an amazing place that my friends have been telling me about for a couple of years...the Elkhorn Flea Market. I went for the second time this past weekend looking for furniture for our newly remodeled kitchen and dining room.

When the rainstorm came through we found safe harbor in one of the buildings and I came across a table filled with books from my youth...Dennis the Menace. I used to love reading these books so I made a deal on some to give my son for his birthday. My daughter has already discovered Calvin and Hobbes and when they are a bit older, I'll introduce them to Bloom County.

The other night when the kids were tucked in their beds, I pulled out the books and started reading them. They still make me laugh, but now, as a parent, they bring on a whole new meaning.

About 6 years ago when my son was 5, we took my nephew (a college Freshman at Marquette) out for lunch. My son was trying to wrap his brain around the whole college experience and inquired of his cousin, "So no one tells you when it's time to take a bath?"

My daughter is among the world's pickiest eaters and yet, at any given time of the day she must know what the next meal is. Although, like me, she has yet to meet a dessert she will turn down.

The books are not the only find I made at the flea market. With the help of my friend, I also got some great chairs to use in the kitchen. They're like the ones used in schools and will give a punch of color. My son suggested we can even put tennis balls on the feet like they do at school so the floors don't get scratched. Dennis Mitchell could not have said it better himself.

A Work In Progress

Just when I think I've got everything figured out, I'm slapped in the face once again by how much I have to learn about parenting and how much of a journey it truly is. Where do I begin...

Last year my son tried out and made a select soccer team made up of fourteen boys in his grade. He's had a really good year. He's played a lot of soccer and has improved his game.

Last week he, along with his teammates and what seemed like about 75 other boys, tried out for three teams for the next season. The second night of tryouts was incredibly hot and he left it feeling less than confident in his performance. As the mother of this wonderful child, I was sure that he was just tired and over-reacting. I felt confident that since he had played on this academy team during the past year, he would make the top team this year.

I picked up the envelope last night and made him wait until after his baseball game to read the results of his try-out. Much to his disappointment and my surprise, he did not make the "A" team, but instead made the "B". Needless to say...he started to bawl and my heart sunk to my knees. How is it that these people evaluating my son did not see that he was one of the best players out there?

After 24 hours, several conversations with my husband, a relatively sleepless night, and some perspective, I'm now wondering...how did I not see that my son was not necessarily one of the best players out there? How did I not prepare him and myself for the possibility that he would not make the team he desired to be on. Ultimately, why did I think it was so important that he make that team?

Here's where parenting gets complicated. What I realized above all else, was that I needed to be okay with what was going on so that I could help him be okay. I was getting so caught up in my son being the best, that I lost sight of him being the best he could be. I'm finding it difficult not to live vicariously through my children. Not to expect them to achieve in order to make up for my shortcomings.

So, where does that leave me at today? I'm definitely in a better place than I was yesterday. I'm able to see things differently and that's helping me to help my son see things differently too. I may not be the best parent in the world, but I'm also not the worst. And when it comes right down to it...it's not about being the best, it's about being the best I can be. As a parent, I'm a work in progress.

Beautiful Brooklyn Bank Building

Last year I was watching Martha Stewart and she did a show about all the cool things going on in Brooklyn, New York. She showed these people who do rooftop gardens and then supply the produce to local restaurants and sell their goods at the local flea markets. Martha visited the Brooklyn Flea Market and ever since then, I've wanted to go.

You can imagine how excited I was when we planned a trip to NY over spring break and I found out the Brooklyn Flea was open and just down the street from my brother-and-sister-in-law's home.

As you may have figured out by now, I'm a sucker for nostalgia. Maybe I glamorize the past beyond what it actually was like, but I don't think there's anything wrong with that. So I was very intrigued to check out the Brooklyn Flea's winter home...the Williamsburgh Savings Bank. It is no longer used as a bank, but is rented out for events. It is a building that is rich in architectural beauty and artisanship that you just don't see anymore.

I can't even begin to describe it, so I was really happy when my husband sent me this video from the New York Times talking about this very building we were just in.

I'm glad the building is still being used. I'm glad that the Brooklyn Flea has a winter home. I'm sad that I never got to do my banking in a building as beautiful as this.

Seventeenth Summer

The last couple of springs I began a new ritual to welcome in summer. I read a book by Maureen Daly called Seventeenth Summer.

It's a book I read back in high school and always thought it was a sweet story. A couple of years ago I got it from the library and read it again and since then, I read it about this time every year. It puts me in a good mood and gets me excited for summer.

Maureen Daly grew up in Fond du Lac and that's where it takes place. It was originally published in 1942, so I'm assuming that's about the time it takes place. It's about a girl, Angie Morrow, who just graduated from high school and falls in love for the first time the summer before she's about to go off to college.

Now granted, I realize it's all quite corny, but there is so much about this book that I love. I love that it takes place in Fond du Lac and they spend time on Lake Winnebago...it gives me a sense of familiarity. When Angie describes her back yard, her garden, her home, I want to visit there...possibly live there. While the day-to-day chores were probably more difficult without all the conveniences we enjoy now, life just seemed simpler. There were rules of behavior and etiquette that everyone knew, and people followed. The days seemed to move at a slow even pace and everything about this book, to me, is very endearing.

Over the years they have tried to gear it toward a new generation of readers by modernizing the cover. But that's actually another thing I love about this book...the illustrations that are true to the time it takes place. As a matter of fact, I always check out the same one at the library. The hardcover with the old pictures.

I would love to share this with my daughter someday. I would love her to love it as much as I have through the years (although, I'm not foolish enough to think that she will.) In the meantime I will continue to read it each spring for my own enjoyment.

Out of the Closet

Well, my daughter and I just got back from the library. While looking for some music by Sting, I came across this little nugget that I had not listened to in ages. I immediately put it on in the car and was surprised that I still knew all the words. My sister was a huge Streisand fan and we had The Way We Were on 8-track.

My sister spent her senior year of high school in Germany as an exchange student. Back then we didn't have cell phones or e-mail. Postal service took forever and phone calls were outrageously expensive, so it was really difficult to stay connected. She left in the summer around the 4th of July and I can remember sitting in my room, listening to her Streisand albums and bawling because I missed her so much.

My favorites were the soundtracks from The Main Event and A Star is Born. I also liked Superman. The best part of Superman may have been the album cover in which she had various poses in her skimpy outfit with her ass cheeks hanging out of the back of her shorts (or whatever they were!) So there you have it. I'm a closet Streisand fan.

That might be why I'm such a big fan of the show Glee and Lea Michele who plays Rachel. She reminds me of Barbara Streisand and even belted out a Streisand song on one episode. She got her start on Broadway and absolutely dominates the show. Not only is she a stand out in Glee, but she is a stand out among her Broadway contemporaries. Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth are both Broadway actresses who have appeared in Wicked and have had guest appearances on Glee. Lea Michele sang circles around the both of them and I think she's got the potential of being a performer of the Streisand caliber.

It will be interesting to see if Lea Michele's career will take her to the big screen as well. With any luck...maybe a remake of The Main Event or A Star is Born. Speaking of which, I'm off to look for my Star is Born cd right now. I want to see if I still remember all the words to that one too.

Leap of Faith

So my brother-in-law had his art studio/gallery opening a couple of weeks ago and it was a huge success. He sold some of his paintings and received some new commissions as well.

From the outside looking in, it could have appeared to be a risky venture...moving his studio from his rent free basement. But he said he just had a gut feeling that it was the right thing to do. Yesterday, Oprah had on celebrities who talked about their first jobs. Paula Dean was on, and while I know she's not necessarily the type of person you'd get life decision advice from, she did say something that was somewhat profound. You can't feel bad about failing, but you can feel bad about never trying at all. I guess my brother-in-law is a good example of that.

While we were at his opening we had time to visit with a couple whom I had not seen for a while. He's got a successful ad agency and she is an extremely gifted artist. Over the eleven years that I've known them, they've bought, renovated, and sold several residential and commercial properties, one more jaw dropping than the next.

It was no surprise when he told me his new venture was a company designing interiors. I couldn't wait to get home and check out his new website. It was nothing less than I expected and is a great example of their talents. It leaves me feeling something between inspiration and envy and you must check out Joe Locher Interiors for yourself.

I guess what I'm getting at is that I love these stories of people finding something they're good at and being able to make a living doing it.

Gallery Night

I always marvel at couples who have the same taste in artwork. Every once in a while my husband and I will agree on something, but for the most part, our aesthetics are very different. The thing about art is that you can't disagree with whether or not it's good because it's such a personal thing. It's about the way it makes you feel and what it is that draws you to it. I'm lucky that this has never been a point of contention in my marriage. My husband likes art, likes to buy art, and likes to be surrounded by it. That is why the walls in his office are white and filled with all the art he likes.

Case in point...this weekend the "girls" in the family went to Art in Bloom at the Milwaukee Art Museum. It was really fun to wander around with my daughter and my niece and see the museum through their eyes and which pieces they liked. One area that I really enjoyed which I don't remember seeing before was the German Expressionist exhibit and particularly Gabriele Münter. The bold colors and the simplicity are what I really liked.

Gabriele Münter

A couple of days later, my husband forwarded an e-mail to me about Katie Musolff, an artist he likes who will be showing her work at gallery night in Milwaukee this weekend. Here is one of her landscapes for comparison...

I actually do like this one as well, but she has another series which are mostly fish and it's not really my cup of tea. It's not that I'm not into wildlife art. I am. I prefer the rooster painting by Picasso that I saw at MAM on Sunday...

Katie Musolff


Pablo Picasso

One local artist that my husband and I do agree on is Bridget Griffith Evans. I had her do a portrait of our kids one year as a Christmas gift for my husband to match another painting of hers that he has in his office.

Bridget Griffith Evans

Whatever your tastes are, there will be a lot to sample this weekend at gallery night. Of course, the artist we're most excited to see is our brother-in-law, Tim Meyerring. Friday will be the grand opening of his new gallery and studio. One of Tim's tulip paintings is featured in my "Yellow Tulips" blog from March of this year. His work can also be seen and purchased through Crate and Barrel.

Hope to see you out and about at one of the following:

Tim Meyerring: Timo Gallery • 207 E. Buffalo Street • Suite 110
Bridget Evans: 207 E. Buffalo Street • Basement
Katie Musolff: The Pfister

Sad Panda

We spent Easter weekend in New York and had a great time. Like every trip, some ideas are more successful than others. This is the second time one of our less successful outings included a ferry...this time it was to Ellis Island. It was interesting, but not so much to a couple of kids. We ended up rushing through it and headed back for Manhattan.

Once docked and walking to lunch, we passed the financial district and spotted what we termed the "Waving Panda." He was across the street and we were in a hurry, so we did not cross the road to have our picture taken with him.

Later, my sister-in-law sent me this video link "Wall Street's Sad Panda Revealed." It tells the story of the man inside the panda costume. A man New Yorker's refer to as "Sad Panda."

While we were relieved he was not some crazy deranged man, we felt bad that we didn't take a minute to cross the street, have our picture taken, and put some money in his bucket.

Bunnies and Swingers

Easter came early at our house this year. Without telling the kids, when they woke up Sunday morning, they each had a note from the Easter Bunny explaining that their baskets and eggs had been hidden. What was actually quite astonishing was that they woke up early, saw the notes, and quietly watched t.v. for about an hour before waking us up to ask if they could begin their hunt.

I think they both know who the Easter Bunny is, but not a word was spoken and I'm pretty sure everyone just enjoyed the fact that knowing the facts didn't ruin the tradition.

We also celebrated at my in-laws. Ever since my husband and I have been dating, we have spent many a Sunday at his parents' house. Over the years the family has grown and things have always seemed to change. As the grandkids (or more specifically the grandsons) are getting older, they are trying to navigate their way around being together at a time when the age difference is more evident and finding common interests is more difficult.

But at the end of the day (literally and figuratively) the four grandkids managed to find a common ground. It was that of the swingset in the backyard...the one that their Grandma and Grandpa bought for them. The one that has four swings in a row. It is the perfect place to be close enough to your family, yet far enough away that you can talk and laugh and swing. A place where you can be cousins and friends and kids for one more Sunday.

The Mind of the Youth

I know I've mentioned it several times before, but I really enjoy my morning walks. I love putting my headphones on and being alone with my thoughts.

It occurred to me today that I would do the same thing all the time in college. Walk around campus by myself with my headphones on, lost in thought. The only thing is, I can't imagine what it was I was thinking about back then. I don't recall having this sense of accomplishment when I was done walking like I do now. Like I've got so many things figured out.

It reminds me of a major criticism of a lot of the young contestants on American Idol. They sing songs that they don't really understand because they haven't had the life experiences that the songs sing about. Their performances are robotic and unfeeling because they can't relate to the lyrics.

There is a world of difference between what I was thinking about as an 18 year old college co-ed and what I think about now, as a 43 year old wife and mother. Nothing illustrates my point better than what happened in our house this week.

We are planning for a trip to NY next month. My husband, who is not a fan of live theater, does have three plays that he loves; Jesus Christ Superstar, Fiddler on the Roof, and West Side Story. There is a revival of West Side Story on Broadway and my husband would really like to see it. Since he got my daughter hooked on the video of Fiddler on the Roof, he thought it would be a good idea to watch West Side Story with her and get her amped for seeing it in New York. In concept he was right on. It had all the elements that would appeal to her...a great story, beautiful music, and dancing.

But we encountered a problem that we did not foresee. It goes back to trying, as an adult, to think like a child would. All of a sudden, during the rumble scene, she got really upset and didn't want to watch the movie anymore. She no longer liked it. My son couldn't understand what the big deal was, after all, only two people got killed (a whole separate issue.)

After a bit of talking about it, we think we found out what the actual problem was. She just couldn't wrap her brain around the fact that Maria would love Tony more than her brother, Bernardo. When Bernardo died, I think she felt bad for Maria because she couldn't imagine what that would be like for her to lose her brother.

My husband tried to explain that some day, she would meet someone, fall in love, and feel the same way Maria did. But it all goes back to what you know and what your life experiences have taught you so far. In my daughter's case, her life experience is that she loves her brother above all else and for now, that's as it should be.

Family Tree

I started listening to my grandpa's tapes again. I forget how great they are. I love getting a little history lesson in the context of my grandfather's entire life. About a year and a half ago, I decided to start doing the same thing with my family. I video taped some interviews with my parents which were a combination of questions they answered and stories they recalled.

In addition, I decided to compile a family photo album for both my family and my husband's which had current pictures as well as those of our ancestors. Working on these books made me want more information on where our families came from, so I joined ancestry.com. If you have any interest in genealogy, you must check out this website. You can join for free on a trial basis and if you're like me, you will get hooked.

I would spend days tracing back and searching through databases to connect the dots. The biggest mystery was my father-in-law's father. He died when my father-in-law was only eight so as you can imagine, my father-in-law's recollection of his father's family history was very vague. There was no documentation of when and where he was born so I was searching for that information. One of the most exciting discoveries I found was his draft registration card. It finally revealed for me his birthdate, which wasn't even on record at the cemetery where he is buried.

My husband's grandfather's draft registration.
I knew for sure it was him because it confirms that he had no right arm.

Ancestry.com has all sorts of military, census, and immigration records. You can create your own family tree and also see other family trees that have been completed by people who share your geneaology.

Once I finished my project, I canceled my subscription to ancestry.com. A couple of weeks later, I got an e-mail from someone wanting to know if my great-grandfather and her great-grandfather were brothers. Indeed they were and she was able to pass on some pictures and also fill in some blanks for me.

My great-grandfather is second from the left in the
bottom row. He is my son's namesake. My great-great-grandparents,
pictured in the middle, each had an identical twin
and their twins also married each other.

For the most part I've put that information away, but the other day my sister-in-law e-mailed me that she was watching a show on PBS about family history. It's another in a series by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. called Faces of America in which they use DNA to help people (mostly celebrities) find out where they come from and who they are related to.

What is really amazing about these shows is how strange connections are made. For instance, it revealed that actress Meryl Streep and director Mike Nichols come from the same descendants. They are good friends who have made four movies together and never knew they were related.

Another interesting coincidence was revealed on Oprah. She did a show featuring Lisa Kudrow's new series Who Do You Think You Are? It's another genealogy show, which is based on one she saw in England, where celebrities go in search of where they come from. Emmitt Smith, hall of fame football player, found out that he descends from a slave who was raped by her slave owner. When he went to a genealogy center to find more information they pulled the book of deeds which had his family's information. It was one of a series of books which took up shelves upon shelves. It was volume #22 which caught Emmitt's attention because that had been the number he wore on his jersey since college. He couldn't believe that of all the books and all the numbers, that his family's history was in volume 22.

I think a big part of my history is the story of the immigrants and what they did to come to America to create a better life for their families. In my case, it's a generation or two removed so it's easy to forget the significance and importance. I have a sister-in-law who immigrated to the United States from Hong Kong when she was only eleven. She made me realize how fortunate I've been to be able to document my family history, and that includes my recent family history. I have large boxes full of artwork and writings and other momentos from my kids stored safely in the basement. She told me that when she came to America, they couldn't bring much so she had to leave many of those things behind in Hong Kong.

She suggested that we take our kids to Ellis Island when we are in New York next month. I've never been there. I'd never even thought about going there, but now, it seems like the perfect thing to do.

Yellow Tulips

yellow tulip painting by my brother-in-law...
one for each member of my family

I just got my first tulips this year...a sure sign that spring is coming. They were yellow tulips no less, the ones that remind me of my grandpa. When he and my grandma moved back to Wisconsin they lived in senior apartments. My grandpa planted yellow tulips outside by their back porch and he was looking forward to his first spring back in Wisconsin to see them come up. He never made it to the next spring, but life goes on and the tulips bloomed without him.

He always told me I was his favorite and I believed him. And when I was alone with him, it was true. My mom once told me that you get out of a relationship what you put into it and that was never more true than my relationship with my grandpa. When I was in college we would write letters to each other and at the time I don't know if I realized how important they were to me. But they obviously meant a lot, because to this day, I still have them.

I'm most happy for the time I spent with them once they moved back to Wisconsin. I was out of school and working and got to spend time with them as an adult. I would go once a week for dinner and do their laundry and mine. We would talk about all kinds of things or just sit around and watch t.v. together. I feel so fortunate to have had that time with them.

My grandpa was a lot of things, among them was a great storyteller. In order to document his life, my brother had my grandpa make audio tapes telling all his stories. Every so often I pull them out. I love to hear his voice and be taken back to his den in Kenosha, or their screened porch in Florida, or their kitchen table at their apartment in Clement Manor. There was nothing better than hearing him start laughing so hard at a memory that he almost couldn't finish telling the story.

It's been a while since I've heard his voice so I guess I'll go look for those tapes and spend a little time with my grandpa.

Another Year Older

Yesterday marked another birthday. Ugh. I'm not thrilled about getting older, but recently I was talking to my friend about her twelve-year-old son and realized how grateful I am that I grew up when I did. I'm sure all generations feel that way so I don't suppose I'm any different in that respect.

I'm so happy that my high school and college years were not documented on a phone or youtube or facebook. I'm so happy that what is documented are letters I received from my dad and grandparents that were sent through the U.S. Postal system...not e-mail or text.

So since it's my birthday, I'm going to indulge in a bit of nostalgia and share some letters I received in college. Some of which are from my nineteenth birthday in 1986 at which time it became legal for me to drink in the state of Wisconsin (which meant I no longer needed my sister's state ID.)

How great are these? My dad did morse code in the Navy so he's always been a great typist. I would get these letters in college and I could picture him sitting at the typewriter at the reception desk or the one in the cubicle right next to it typing on these pages from a National Premium notepad. The note for my birthday came with these breathalyzers that they were trying to sell. You would blow into a balloon and then put it over this plastic tube that had colored sand crystals in it. It came with a chart that had a color code and the crystals would change color depending on how drunk you were. I'm sure you can see all the inherent problems with this system and the ones he sent me for my nineteenth birthday must have been sitting in a damp warehouse for a long time and the sand crystals were defective.

Normally my grandpa would send typed letters which were great because they had all kinds of unfixed typo's. This was particularly special because it was mostly from my grandma and it was handwritten. It also explains the origin of my name (which I've never liked, but I won't hold it against my grandma...her name was Atha Minerva so I consider myself pretty lucky.)

In the Hearth

Kitchen remodel inspiration photo

The other night my husband and I had a really great conversation about our son. Both of us were concerned with the change in his behavior as of late and were trying to figure out the root of the problem.

Our kids are both involved in a lot of sports and other activities. To keep involved in their lives and spend time with them, we both volunteer. My husband is a truly gifted coach and so he coaches soccer, baseball, and basketball. I mostly volunteer at school.

What we came to realize is that while we spend a lot of time with our kids at practices and games and at school...it's not necessarily the type of connection they crave. We realized that we may have neglected the quality one on one time.

To put it to the test, this week when my son asked my husband to come sit in his room, he did. My husband sat in the rocking chair while my son shot baskets...the whole time talking to his dad about everything that was on his mind. My husband sat listening, not saying a word.

Wow. What a novel concept. Apparently it doesn't take much to connect with our kids...just our time and attention. So we were discussing it last night when the kids were in bed and how we really have to make a conscious effort...especially while they are still interested in spending time with us.

In thinking about the future of our family, we have decided to remodel our kitchen this spring to open up the wall between the kitchen and dining room to make it a larger usable space. Part of the reasoning is that as the kids get older, they can be at the dining room table doing homework while I'm getting dinner ready and we can still be together keeping tabs on each other.

If there was ever any doubt that this was a good idea, all my husband had to do was pull out a poem his mother wrote and shared with him a couple of years ago:

Stay in the kitchen

That's where the action is
said my friend, the mother of teens And so I did

Well past midnight
I baked cookies
filled the crock pot
cleaned the refrigerator
scrubbed pots
clipped coupons
polished silver

A middle aged Cinderella
staying close to the hearth
I tended the fire
Listened to my children

And while they slept
I sifted the ashes

Animal Autobiographies

I am continually fascinated by my daughter's imagination. As much as she and I are the same, that is where we differ. My sister and I used to play school together. She was the teacher and I was a student along with all her stuffed animals. She made up the class roster...there was always Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden. Since I never read any of those books, I'll give her all the credit for creating this world.

My daughter has created a world far greater than my sister's schoolhouse. She's almost like the Doctor Doolittle of stuffed animals. They have names and personalities and voices when she speaks for them. It's all quite amazing and somewhat entertaining.

Today while we were in the car, out of the blue, she said to me, "Mom, you know Decky my panda. Well, he's not a very good drawer because he sleeps all the time. He drew a picture of a horse and dad said it looks like a rhinoceros with a crew cut." Intriguing – right? Then she went on to say, "His motto is shut your yap because he's always sleeping."

As soon as we got home I asked her to see the picture. It was part of a series she did one night while playing in her room. She had her animals write autobiographies which she has taped all over her walls. (Side note: she has a placemat in her room with a map of the U.S. so each animal was from a different state. Decky's from Wyoming.)

Decky's autobiography
(double-click the image to enlarge)

She was a difficult baby and those first couple years with her were rough, but is the type of thing that makes you realize it was all worth it.

Lambs of a Feather...

My husband and I entered our marriage with two matching items. We each had the exact same lamb Christmas ornament that our mom's got us at some Waukesha Service Club craft fair or something.

The other item is our copies of The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. In many of my fits of downsizing and simplifying, I've managed to save both copies...taking neither to Half Price Books or selling them at my annual rummage. I'm not quite sure why, but it was just my instinct.

This morning on the Today Show they were talking about Salinger's passing at the age of 91. Meredith Vieira commented on how so many people have their original copies of his only published novel.

I guess it says something about that novel. Of all the books my husband and I had when we moved in together...it was the only duplicate. I haven't read it in a long time. I must have saved it for some reason...guess it maybe time to give it another read.

In Loving Memory

My mom called me today to tell me that my uncle passed away suddenly. For any of you who knew him, you will feel my loss. For any of you who did not know him, you'll be saddened that you didn't because he was someone worth knowing.

He was a generous person with both his time and talents which he bestowed unselfishly on me in so many ways. My mind is racing with memories and I'm finding it hard to fall asleep. Here are the things that I remember about my Uncle Jim and what made him so special to me...

• He called me Mare-Bear.
• Every year when I was a kid, we'd go to East Troy for the 4th of July parade to watch him march with the band he directed.
• Every Thanksgiving he and my aunt made the most delicious pumpkin and pecan pies.
• It was a running joke between he and I as to who would find the best spot for a Thanksgiving Day nap.
• At the end of every Thanksgiving dinner he would say, "It was good what there was of it."
• When I bought my first house, he and my aunt spent hours and hours helping me clean, strip woodwork, paint, and garden.
• He made my cousin help him re-do my bathroom.
• He had a talent for woodwork and made me a custom "ladder" to hold my decorative papers and a little display shelf.
  
• He taught my husband and I how to make dill pickles.
• He did a reading at my wedding.
• For a wedding gift, he and my aunt gave us one gift each month for the first year we were married.
• Many of those gifts were delivered to me at work by my uncle when I didn't even remember it was my monthly anniversary until he arrived.
• One of the gifts was a grapefruit knife that I use almost every day.
• He made the best dill bread.
• When I had my son, he and my aunt brought us dinner...pork chops and German potato salad.
• I have these, and many of his other recipes in my recipe box.
• He took loving care each year to make his own Christmas cards.
• When we'd go to the cemetery in Kenosha, he and my aunt would bring the Spot burgers.
  
• When he was in town last summer he and my aunt stopped by our house to trim our bushes.
• He had a great laugh and loved to use it.

His passing is truly a loss. I miss him incredibly already.

The Cure for What Ails You

Monday night my husband was complaining of an itchy throat so he went to bed early. When I talked to him on the phone yesterday afternoon he sounded congested. No surprise since my son has been fighting a cold and cough for over a week.

We came home from school yesterday afternoon to find a huge box from Hales Groves in Vero Beach, Fla. sitting on the front porch. My parents sent us some honeybells. Hallelujah! Their sweet nectar is the perfect shot of vitamin C that my ailing family needed...and just in time.

Project with a Purpose

I ventured out again for a walk this morning. A bit colder, but it really felt good. One of the greatest benefits of my morning walk is the opportunity to think things through before my day starts. Today I was wondering why I haven't got the winter blues as bad as I did last year. I really think it's because I have some new projects that I'm working on that give me a creative outlet.

I've just completed something I've been thinking about doing for quite a while. My friend is having a baby this spring and so I made her some really cute burp clothes. When I had my son, we received some that were similar and I just loved them.

This weekend I also finished my second scarf which I made for my daughter. My mother-in-law has begun to knit again and she finished her first scarf with this beautiful yarn she got for Christmas. We were both commenting on how much we enjoy knitting while watching television. Several times I have been knitting and my husband has been reading and we have had some really good conversations. Although, it did occur to me that we look like an old married couple...he just needs a pipe, I need an apron, and he would have to start referring to me as "mother".

The only problem with the knitting is that you can only make so many scarves for yourself and family members. A friend of mine made the suggestion that we make the scarves and donate them to a shelter. My sister said schools in low income areas are always in need of scarves as well. So my mother-in-law and I have decided that we will continue to make as many scarves as we like and give them away. There's something very fulfilling about knitting with a purpose.

Sibling Love

Anyone who has a brother or sister knows the ups and downs of the sibling relationship. On previous posts I have mentioned how my brothers would watch All Star Wrestling and then practice their moves on me. I also recounted the game of Sorry in which I was duped by my brother and sister. All the great pranks were practiced on me...shaving cream on the phone receiver, dried dates in the bed to make me think I had a terrible accident, and M&M's fed to me on a long car ride only after they had been shoved up my brother's nose.

But what I failed to mention was the way they have always looked out for me. The way my sister would let me crawl into bed with her at night when I was scared. When I got my first flat tire on my car, my brother came immediately and changed it for me. At nineteen I was laying in the hospital having my broken arm set and my other brother stood at my head, stroking my hair, trying to keep me calm. It's comforting to know that there are three people in my life that I can count on for anything.

I see the same thing with my kids. One minute they're tattling on each other, fighting with each other, and driving each other mad. Then there are moments when they reveal their true feelings. The other morning my son was explaining to me that he knows his sister's ticklish spot is... right underneath her chin. Or when my daughter is the recipient of a treat, she always makes sure to get an extra for her brother.

Today my son told me he's making a picture in art class that he's going to surprise his sister with. It's of a penguin in a top hat with a cane. I know she'll love it. There's something really comforting about sibling love.

Happy Anniversary!

One year ago yesterday, I began this blog with an entry called The Coldest Day in which I talked about the subzero temperatures we would be enduring for several days.

What a difference a year makes. Today's highs are going to be in the upper 30's. I just returned from a walk and I kept thinking to myself how good it felt to be outside again. It's amazing what some fresh air and exercise does for the spirit.

I've got this great route that takes me about 45 minutes and I walk down one of my favorite roads in Wauwatosa, Warren Street. It doesn't get anymore baseball, hot dog, and apple pie than Warren Street. I especially like walking there around the 4th of July. I would love to live there someday. So many of the houses have these big covered porches. I'd get a big porch swing and a laptop and I'd be set. I'd keep a pitcher of lemonade in the fridge in case anyone stopped by to enjoy my porch with me.

And with that happy thought in my mind...I'm going to turn my space heater on, get a cup of tea, and begin my chores for today.

Old School New Year

The thought of going out on New Year's Eve has become less and less appealing to me. This year we managed to put together what I would say was a pretty perfect day.

Let me set the scene. My kids and I really enjoy watching The Amazing Race. This last season our team of choice was the Harlem Globetrotter duo...Flight Time and Big Easy. Milwaukee has had a long-standing tradition of hosting the Globetrotters on New Year's Eve. I can remember them from when I was a kid. Twice my family had tickets to go, and both times I was sick and had to stay home. I knew they'd been coming here since the 70's, but was surprised to find out that the New Year's Eve. tradition dates back even further. My mother-in-law told me she went to see them when she was a kid.

So my husband got the tickets and I made Globetrotter shirts for each of the kids...one that said Flight Time and one that said Big Easy on the back. I wrapped the shirts for Christmas and decided that in order to get them, they would have to compete in their own Amazing Race. I re-created the clues used on the show and came up with different tasks. They were totally on board until the last part of the race in which they had to retrieve their laundry from the basement and fold it. We were warned by our angry racers that the present better be worth it, and better not be a book. When they found out we were going to the Globetrotter game, they were really excited.

Our seats were great. We were right behind the bench. Before the team came out, we saw a man coming onto the court in Globetrotter warm-ups. It ended up being Curly Neal...one of the Globetrotters from when I was a kid. My son took his program and pen over and asked for an autograph. Curly Neal could not have been any kinder as he explained that they have to wait until after the game to give autographs, but that he would make sure to give him one. As my son walked away, he called him back, took a wristband off his arm and gave it to him. It hasn't left my son's arm since.
The game was fun and surprisingly, the Globetrotters won. Afterwards we had an early dinner at China Gourmet and ended the evening by going to a neighbor's house. We all stayed up until midnight and welcomed in 2010.

Happy New Year!