Think there are pantyhose in Heaven?

(Photo: Grandma Florence with her two sons, George and Bob (Mark's dad)

When we suddenly lost Grandma Florence (my husband's grandma) in 2002, it was a big hit to the family; she was the matriarch, but moreso, she was the heart of the family. She was a real character, born in one of the toughest parts of the country (Michigan's upper peninsula, which makes our winter this year look like a cake-walk).

I was happy that there was an open casket, as I would have a chance to say goodbye. She looked so beautiful in her crimson velvet dress, and it took me back to the only other day she wore it.

It was a winter Michigan wedding for her grandson, Derek and his fiancee, Laurie. Eighty-year-old Florence was in her glory that night, nearly outshining the bride in her regal attire, perfect for her status in the family. The reception was at a country club, and Gram felt pretty special. She was not a fancy woman at all; putting on airs was not her style, but she enjoyed playing dress-up that night. And although she had done "the worm" at Mark's brothers wedding 20 years prior, this time Gram stayed vertical.

I have to digress a little to say that Grandma Florence and I got off to a rocky start; I think she felt a little threatened by me in the beginning. We both had powerful personalities, and while I respected her, I did not bend over backwards to please her. (Remember, my grandparents were all gone by the time I was 12, so I really had no frame of reference for family heirarchy and the status a grandma often holds.) One sunny summer day, I stopped at Mark's parents' house when Gram was visiting from Michigan and found her sitting on the patio. Mark went to get us drinks, and she said to me, "You know, he's never going to marry you." Taken aback, I was speechless. She continued, "You are just one of the many girlfriends Mark has had. He's not ready to settle down, so you are likely wasting your time." As you can imagine, that offended me, and years later, when I got my engagement ring, you can bet I was more than happy to show it to her. (She didn't mention anything about her comment, and I didn't either.)

When Kyle was a baby, Gram and I had a couple of run-ins over old-school vs. new school childrearing, and sometimes we hurt each other's feelings, but we managed to settle in to a comfortable, mutual respect for one another over the years.

The night of the wedding, Mark's mom noticed Gram walking with baby-steps and thought it odd that a woman of her height (5'10") would be taking such small steps. Gram whispered that her pantyhose were falling down and that she was heading to the restroom! I told you Gram was not a fancy woman. These were possibly the first pair of pantyhose she had every worn; she had no clue that she should have put them on before, rather than after she put her girdle on. Her fancy dress could not help the fact that her poker-straight frame would not hold her pantyhose up.

I ran into Gram in the Ladies room, cursing her "damned hose!" She ask if I would help her pull her hose up. [Awkward.] Regardless, imagine me, on my knees in front of Florence with her fancy dress hiked up to her waist as I tugged and tugged her pantyhose up from her ankles all the way up to her ribs (and remember, I said she was tall, so that was pretty far!) This was no easy feat, but Gram and I laughed our way through it. Each of us laughed until we cried and had to catch our breath. (Imagine the looks on the faces of ladies coming in to use the restroom and hearing us in there!) Finally settled, Gram and I powdered our noses and headed back to the party, her dignity intact, along with her pantyhose. It was a bonding time for Gram and me, and we laughed about it again in later years.

Seeing Gram in the casket wearing her beautiful dress, I was only a little sad. I smiled as I patted her hand before saying good-bye...

...because I know there are no pantyhose in heaven.

Love Me, Love My Stink

I recently completely redecorated our master bedroom as a surprise. It was a drastic change, and I worried that Mr.4444 wouldn't like my choices, (He loved them, actually.), so I went out of my way to add touches he would appreciate. One of those touches was a very special canvas that I ordered.

Back Story: Mr.4444's grandma, Florence (who passed away in 2003), was a character. She was the grandma who did the worm at her grandson's wedding and prided herself in wearing snazzy hats. She and Mr.4444 were tight.

Florence had a powerful love and loyalty to her family and always stuck up for the underdog. I remember dramatically calling Mr.4444 out once for a particular "odor" (back when we were first dating) and hearing Grandma from across the room, "Love me, love my stink! Right, Mark?!" She meant it literally, in that instance, but she also meant it figuratively; if you're going to love people, you have to love them in spite of their faults or weaknesses.

Although Grandma Florence has been gone for a long time, her Love me, love my stink sentiment lives on in Mr.4444, who uses it figuratively (and sometimes literally) all the time. I decided to use that quote to make a special canvas for our "new" bedroom.

Since I've had good experience with Easy Canvas Prints in the past, that's who I went with. I first purchased this image from YayImages (just a random site that I found) and then added text and a little heart from PicMonkey.com. I chose an 8 x 8 inch canvas with a 1 1/2" "gallery" border and decided to add a canvas stand/back to it so that it would stand up on the dresser. It cost about $30 after applying a coupon code, and although I thought that was a little pricey at the time, I decided it would be worth it; this was a special gift, after all.

When the canvas arrived, I was thrilled with the quality! It's actually of substantial weight and looks perfect!

The look on Mr.4444's face when he saw the canvas and chuckled out loud was priceless to me. We didn't need a tangible form of Grandma Florence's quote to remember her philosophy, of course, but I love the canvas, because every time we look at it, we'll think of her and her unconditional love.

[Wondering what the driftwood pieces are all about? They were lovingly collected and then hand-painted by my niece and her fiance for their San Francisco wedding favors several years ago. Pretty special, huh? It's not every day you can even remember a wedding favor from six years ago, let alone have it on display in your home!]

P.S. For the record, Mr.4444 smells wonderfully 99% of the time.

As the Holidays Roll Out...

Christmas Eve is a pretty big deal around here. We have a tradition of going to church in the afternoon, coming home and opening new pajamas, and eating a formal dinner by candlelight in our pj’s. The year Great Grandma Florence passed away two days prior was a somber one. Family from Michigan had joined us here (for the funeral that would take place on the 26th), and although everyone tried to get into the Christmas spirit by wearing pajamas to our house, it was tough. I can’t tell you about the depths of Grandpa Bob’s sorrow that night (the computer screen becomes blurry just thinking about Grandpa 4444's seemingly-bottomless grief). Normally very jovial and full of Christmas Spirit, his heart was quiet that night. He had lost his mother (his best friend) and a larger-than-life personality that helped define our family’s character.

Earlier that day, I had bought a tall, burgundy-colored pillar candle and a gold stand to hold it in a place of prominence on the mantel. As we gathered that night, I shared my idea to light the candle and keep it lit throughout our Christmas Eve celebration as a way of remembering the four 4444 family grandparents we had lost in the past couple of years, including Gram Florence. Bob seemed unimpressed, but he did consent to lighting the candle for me.

I don’t remember anything else about the night except the ending. After hugs good bye, as Bob was heading out the door, he called out, “Don’t forget to blow Gramma out--She’d hate like hell to burn the house down!” That gives you a glimpse of the sense of humor he had and how much someone like that in a family would be missed (He passed away, unexpectedly, 6 weeks later, due to a massive heart attack).

When Great Grandma Florence and Grandpa Bob were taken from our family, (especially in the span of 6 weeks time) it was like a kick in the stomach; we couldn’t breathe, and we wondered about the injustice of it. Our identity as a family took such a hit, it was hard to believe we would ever be anything special without Gram and Bob. However, we have made it. We have “regrouped,” so-to-speak. I still miss Gram’s and Bob’s great senses of humor and their thoughtfulness, among other things. However, I see their spirits in my husband and children, who are their offspring and have inherited their wit, generosity, and fun-loving personalities. I wear the sweaters Gram lovingly knit for us, and I see Bob’s influence when my husband demonstrates (constantly) what an amazing dad he is to our kids.

While our family will never be the same without Gram and Bob, it is still special. What I’m trying to say is that if you have lost a family member this year, or if you just miss someone who is no longer with you this holiday season, I appreciate your pain. I understand your sense of loss, and I care. Hang tough; the pain of loss softens over time, even if it doesn’t completely go away. Remember the good times. Start a new tradition in the name of family. Pray for healing.

You are in my prayers…

The 5 People I Hope to Meet in Heaven

Being at the funeral today got me to thinking....When I get to Heaven (hopefully), who will I see there? Who would I like to see? Who will greet me, and who will I have to seek out? If I (God forbid) died today and went to heaven....

I'd definitely like to see Mark's dad, Bob. He should be having a ball up there! I'm sure he's on the Welcoming Committee; Jack Daniels and an extra glass in hand, along with at least a few dogs at his side.

When Grandma Florence (Bob's mom) died, it literally killed him (six weeks later) so I know the two of them are having a ball up there, playing cribbage and laughing a LOT. I'm sure she no longer has arthritis in her hands and continues to knit like a madwoman (but do they really need sweaters in Heaven??) It would be great to see Grandma Florence again.Grandma Florence and Bob, Summer 2002

I'd love to see my dad in Heaven. He had a strong faith in God, and I know all is forgiven up there, so he most likely now has forgiven himself for his failings on earth and is finally at peace with himself. I would love to see him that way.

Who else? Hmmm...I would pop in on Grandma Grace, just to say hi. And assuming that there are no hurt feelings in heaven, I would definitely find my dad's dad, Granville, to ask some very pointed questions about why my dad had so much baggage to carry and what it was all about; I have a lot of curiosity about that and about my ancestors. (Of course, in Heaven, there would be no inhibitions, so he would forget how inhibited his generation was and would share freely.)

Assuming that Heaven exists, and assuming you believe, who do you hope to meet in Heaven one day?

As the Holidays Roll Out

I've told this story before, but it means a lot to me. I hope that it means something to you, too.

Christmas Eve is a pretty big deal around here. We have a tradition of going to church in the afternoon, coming home and opening new pajamas, and eating a formal dinner by candlelight in our pj’s. The year that Great Grandma Florence had passed away (two days prior) was a somber one.  Family from Michigan had joined us here (for the funeral that would take place on the 26th), and although everyone tried to get into the Christmas spirit by wearing pajamas to our house, it was tough. I can’t tell you about the depths of my husband's father's sorrow that night (the computer screen becomes blurry just thinking about Grandpa 4444's seemingly-bottomless grief).  Normally very jovial and full of Christmas Spirit, his heart was empty that night. He had lost his mother, his best friend, and a larger-than-life personality that helped define our family’s character.

Earlier that day, I had bought a tall, burgundy-colored pillar candle and a gold stand to hold it in a place of prominence on the mantel. As we gathered that night, I shared my idea to light the candle and keep it lit throughout our Christmas Eve celebration as a way of remembering the four 4444 family grandparents we had lost in the past couple of years, including Gram Florence. Bob seemed unimpressed, but he did consent to lighting the candle for me.

I don’t remember anything else about the night except the ending. After hugs good bye, as Bob was heading out the door, he called out, “Don’t forget to blow Gramma out--She’d hate like hell to burn the house down!”  That gives you a glimpse of the sense of humor he had and how much someone like that in a family would be missed.  Sadly,  Bob too passed away unexpectedly, six weeks later, due to a massive heart attack.  It was another crushing blow to our family (especially in the span of six weeks); it was like a kick in the stomach; we couldn’t breathe, and we wondered about the injustice of it.   

Our identity as a family took such a hit, it was hard to believe we would ever be anything special without Gram and Bob. However, we have made it. We have “regrouped,” so-to-speak. I still miss Gram’s and Bob’s great senses of humor and their thoughtfulness, among other things. However, I see their spirits in my husband and children, who are their offspring and have inherited their wit, generosity, and fun-loving personalities. I wear the sweaters Gram lovingly knit for us, and I see Bob’s influence when my husband demonstrates (constantly) what an amazing dad he is to our kids.

While our family will never be the same without Gram and Bob, it is still special. What I’m trying to say is that if you have lost a family member this year, or if you just miss someone who is no longer with you this holiday season, I appreciate your pain. I understand your sense of loss, and I care. Hang tough; the pain of loss softens over time, even if it doesn’t completely go away. Remember the good times. Start a new tradition in the name of family. Pray for healing.

You are in my prayers…

Our Family Book of Days

I recorded Cooper's passing in Our Family Book of Days today. (It choked me up.) The book was given to me as a gift in 2000. It includes a year's worth of dates with spaces to record important events in a family's life. Here are some events I've recorded over the years:

June 12, 2000 Kyle and Kendall's first day of summer school, in Tinytown!

July 6, 2000 Dad [Mark] takes Kyle, Kendall, and Great Grandma Florence to Uncle George and Aunt Bette's [in lower Michigan] via the ferry across Lake Michigan. Mom stays home to pack for our big move!

December 22, 2001 Cooper arrives! 

April 10, 2003 Kendall's 8th birthday and our first time celebrating as a family at our new dining room table (with all ten chairs!)


December 22, 2002 Grandma Florence passed away :(


February 3, 2003 Grandpa Bob has gone to heaven. Our grief is immense.


April 11, 2005 Grandpa C passed away. Our grief is mixed with gratitude; it was a very brief illness, and we got to say goodbye.

March 7, 2007  Kyle starts his first job! "Party Hero" for Ashwaubenon Bowling Lanes

March 24, 2007 Dad finishes up the final cook-off of this year's maple syrup draw (80 gallons of sap, down to 2 gallons of syrup). This was our third year tapping our trees.

June 3, 2009 Kyle becomes an official member of "Camp Nuttin'" [hunting camp]

June 26, 2007 Kyle gets his wisdom teeth out.
June 29, 2007 Kyle gets "dry socket." :(   [The "treatment" for which I will never forget.]

February 19, 2012 Opening Night for Kendall, in Aida (the musical). Also her first "real" paycheck! $150!

Defining moments are a part of life. Just thought I'd share a few of my family's notable events. How about yours?  If you had to pick a few defining moments in your family, what would they be?  Care to share?


I'm sorry to report that I searched on-line for a new, hard copy of Our Family Book of Days but came up empty; I guess it's out-of-print. 

Say, "Cheese!"

I'm not gonna lie; I'm not going to pretend that I think I'm obese. I know that many women would happily trade bodies with mine, but I know I'm overweight; I'm top and middle heavy, and I don't like looking at full-length photos of myself.  I weigh more today than I ever have, and I just don't want to see reminders of that; the morning mirror is enough reflection. For that reason, I prefer being behind the camera, rather than in front of it. However, I recently read So You're Feeling Too Fat to Be Photographed and I realized that another perspective is in order. Allow me to share an example...

In the summer of 2002, the 4444 family held it's first-ever family reunion. We gathered for a week at a lake in Minnesota, four generations, and had the time of our lives together.

I took tons of photos, which currently reside in a place of prominence on our living room wall.

Little did we know at the time that six months later, we would lose both our matriarch (Great Grandma Florence, center of the photo) and our patriarch (Mr.4444's dad, to Florence's left) suddenly and unexpectedly, within six weeks of each other; those photos from our wonderful time together turned out to be the last of our family together. 

What if Grandpa, about 50 pounds overweight, had refused to pose for this shot (with his mom and only sibling, Uncle George)? 

What it he'd had had a grumpy, "I hate having my picture taken" look on his face? We would not have this beautiful treasure of a photograph to remember our time together.

The article reminded me that people don't take photos so that they can display our bodies; they just want to capture special moments so that they can look back later and smile at the memory. When we refuse to be in pictures, we rob our loved ones of something special, especially when we have those "Is this over yet?" looks on our faces in the shots.

The next time I'm posing for a shutterbug, instead of thinking "Is my gut sucked in enough?" I'm going to focus on the moment and how special it is, along with the people I'm with.  I'll feel good, knowing that one day, when I'm no longer here, my kids will have a memento to treasure, as will their children.

I'm ready for my closeup!

As the Holidays Roll Out

Christmas Eve is a pretty big deal around here. We have a tradition of going to church in the afternoon, coming home and opening new pajamas, and eating a formal dinner by candlelight in our pj’s. The year Great Grandma Florence passed away two days prior was a somber one. Family from Michigan had joined us (here for the funeral, which would take place on the 26th), and although everyone tried to get into the Christmas spirit by wearing pajamas to our house, it was tough. I can’t tell you about the depths of (Mr.4444's dad) Big Bob’s sorrow that night (the computer screen becomes blurry just thinking about it). Normally very jovial and full of Christmas Spirit, his spirit was absent that night. We had lost his mother and a larger-than-life personality that helped define our family’s character.

Earlier that day, I had bought a tall, burgundy-colored pillar candle and a gold stand to hold it in a place of prominence on the mantel. As we gathered that night, I shared my idea to light the candle and keep it lit throughout our Christmas Eve celebration as a way of remembering the loved ones we’d lost. Bob seemed unimpressed, but he did consent to lighting the candle for me. I don’t remember anything else about the night except the ending. After hugs good bye, as Bob was heading out the door, he called out, “Don’t forget to blow Grandma out. She’d hate like hell to burn the house down!” That gives you a glimpse of the sense of humor he had and how much someone like that in a family would be missed (He passed away unexpectedly 6 weeks later)

When Great Grandma Florence and Grandpa Bob were taken from our family, (especially in the span of 6 weeks time) it was like a kick in the stomach; we couldn’t breathe, and we wondered about the injustice of it. Our identity as a family took such a hit, it was hard to believe we would ever be anything special without them. However, we have made it. We have “regrouped,” so-to-speak. I still miss Gram’s and Bob’s great senses of humor and their thoughtfulness, among other things. However, I see their spirits in my husband and children, who are their offspring and have inherited their wit, generosity, and fun-loving personalities. I wear the sweaters Gram lovingly knit for us, and I see Bob’s influence when my husband demonstrates (constantly) what an amazing dad he is to our kids.

While our family will never be the same without Gram and Bob, it is still special. What I’m trying to say is that if you have lost a family member this year, or if you just miss someone who is no longer with you this holiday season, I appreciate your pain. I know your sense of loss, and I care. Hang tough; the pain of loss softens over time, even if it doesn’t completely go away. Remember the good times. Start a new tradition in the name of family. Pray for healing.

You are in my prayers…

Originally posted November 2007, but still very heartfelt.

Saying Goodbye to Bob

When I wrote about saying good-by to Grandma Florence, I didn't mention one disturbing thing about that moment. I don't know what I expected, but when I reached out to touch her hand, I was shocked to feel a cold, wax-like texture, rather than Gram's soft hands. Crazy, I know, to be surprised, but I had never before lost anyone remotely close, so I hadn't had this experience, and I was left with a disappointed feeling; it wasn't exactly what I had hoped for. It made me realize that if you want someone to know that you love them, you have to tell them when they are alive, because casket goodbyes are less than satisfying.

As I've said, Gram passed away two days before Christmas. Her son, (Mr.4444's father) Bob was heartbroken. I had never lost anyone I cared deeply for, and his grief touched me. He was such a cheerful guy, and seeing him silent and withdrawn made an impression on me. Even Kendall crawling up in his lap did little to bring the sparkle back to his eye in those days. It was the saddest Christmas I can recall, of course, but that sadness did not prepare me for the loss of Bob six weeks later, when he suffered a massive heart attack and died.

I got the phone call in my classroom, where I was teaching Social Studies to a group of high schoolers. I remember Mark's words,"Barb, my dad is dead," and my disbelief, "Shut up!" What a thing to say! He told me he was serious, and that I needed to get to his parents' house right away. I remember leading my students out of the classroom, feeling like I was in a movie or something; this was unbelievable. Bob, dead?! I dropped my students off at another classroom and told the teacher (a friend) what had happened. A phone call was made, and another friend quickly drove me to Mark's parents' house, which was a mile and a half from the school.

I found an ambulance crew at the house (Mark wasn't there yet), and his mom in the livingroom in shock. Bob was lying on the floor at the top of the basement stairs, in the dinette area. My first instinct was to be with him, but Pat needed attention. After comforting her in the other room, I returned to the kitchen. I just felt such a pull to my father-in-law; so vulnerable at that moment, in my mind. (I mean, who wants to be lying dead and alone on a floor?) Remembering my experience with Grandma Florence, I turned to the paramedic and asked, "Can I...hug him?" He nodded and left the room.

{Break here for Kleenex; I can't see the screen.}

I knelt down and put my arms around Bob. He had only been there for a short time, and his body felt warm, like he was only taking a nap. Oh, how I wished it was so. After a moment, I took a deep breath and got up, feeling a sense of peace. The last thing we had said to each other the night before was, "I love you." I had no regrets.

**********************************************************************************
P.S. I just want to apologize if this series of posts has depressed anybody. (I've tried to spread them apart enough not to lose you :) I've felt very happy to be able to finally lay this out for myself, examine my feelings about it, and record the experiences for my kids one day. I only have one more post on this topic, and it is a sort of funny one, so don't worry; there will be no more morbid stories. (At least until I'm ready one day to write my dad's, but that one is waaay down the pike.)

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Mr.4444's grandma, Florence (a.k.a. Gram) was one of a kind. She was the "cool" grandma who let her teenage grandson drive her car up at the camp before he had a license, who habitually stayed up til 3am or later to read and slept til noon, and who once smacked a wild bear in the nose through her screen door when he came for a taste of the homemade thimbleberry jam she was cooking.

Mr.4444 and I used to sometimes find ourselves in disagreement over cribbage game rules, and we always knew we could call Gram (one timezone ahead of us) for the final decision, no matter how late it was. Mr.4444 also loved that he could always call Gram to chat late at night, when he had trouble sleeping or just missed hearing her voice. She was always glad for the phone calls, but she never complained of being lonely; she kept busy with her hundreds of books and her knitting projects.

Thankfully, Kyle and Kendall also got to know Gram 4444 before her passing, in 2002. They shared a special relationship with Florence. I've told you about how they always had a race when she visited. They also loved to visit her house, because she had a tiny, narrow stairway that led up to the bedrooms, and her linoleum floor in the living room made an excellent skating rink. She's the great grandma who handed Kyle a small hatchet and let him go at a piece of wood in the back yard, the grandma who knitted everyone sweaters, and who always said, "Love me-Love my stink!" if anyone produced and offensive odor (not me, of course, only her grandchildren.)

Gram was a real character, who spent her whole life in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where the snow is measured in feet, instead of inches, and she could go for months stuck inside the house, because the snow often covered the windows from late fall to spring. We didn't see her often but always wanted to make sure she knew we loved her, especially when it came to gifts. I've already shared one idea for The Best Gift to give a grandma when the best present to give is really your presence. Today, while cleaning a cupboard, I found a different gift that we made for Gram 4444 many years ago. It's one of those gifts that doesn't just go in the trash after the recipient has passed away, because it's not just some knickknack; it's love in a tangible form.

I bought an inexpensive container... and grabbed some pretty, one-sided paper, cutting it into strips. Then, we each sat down and made these....

I wrote most of Kendall's for her, since she was only three at the time. Mr.4444 wrote the ones that you can see the most easily in the pics.

"Grandma, you snore like a bear, but we love you anyway!" Love, Kyle and Kendall

"Thank you for the driving lesson." (Mr.4444)

"Thank you for letting me chop wood!" Kyle

"Remember Dad in a diaper?!" (Bob had many years prior dressed as a New Years Baby and, yes, wore nothing but a baby bonnet and a diaper.)

I wrote about how much we laughed that night at the wedding and how beautiful she looked, among other things.

We gave the gift to Gram for Christmas, instructing her to read one each day, but of course, she read them all at once and then put them back in the jar and took them out, savoring each one whenever she felt like it. She loved the gift, and the best part about it was that each one of us played a role in its creation. She knew we had each spent time thinking of her as we made the gift, and really, what better gift is there?

Today, we miss Gram, and although she is no longer with us, the special gift that we gave to her can now give back to us....

because love lasts forever.

The Best Gifts....

Okay, I realize that Thanksgiving isn't even here yet, but this idea needs to be shared early. I read a post from someone looking for inexpensive Christmas gifts that are also meaningful, and this one is so good, instead of just posting a comment on her site, I want to share it with anyone who reads this blog. Please be patient with the delivery, as there is more to the story.

In July of 2002, we had a 4444 family reunion. Everyone has them, of course, but this one was special (how special, I learned only later). It was the first-ever 4444 reunion. My husband's entire extended family consists of 21 people. We rented a group of beautiful cottages on Leech Lake, in Minnesota, and stayed for a week; fishing, swimming, boating, etc.

Eighty-five year old Great Grandma Florence (the matriarch of the family) was thrilled to be in the middle of such a fun-filled week. I could write a lot about Grandma Florence, but to sum her up in a sentence, I'll offer one of her favorite quotes, "Love me; love my stink." (Needless to say, she was a real character.)

Having lived a simple life, Gram was thrilled to take part is such a big event, especially one that involved all of her loving family. Family was everything to Gram, so she was in her glory that week; grandchildren and great grandchildren loving her up and sharing their "big" catches, found turtles, cribbage games, and lazy times, too. As the unofficial family photographer, I took many, many photos that week. In the back of my mind, I knew these snapshots would be priceless gems in our family, since Gram was getting older and who knew when we would have another reunion like this one.
The following October, I purchased a postcard program (cheap) and made 18 photo postcards from our time at Leech Lake. I then began to send them to Gram at her home in Calumet, Michigan. Each week, I sent one memory, signed by my husband, the kids, or me. Each week, she excitedly awaited her mailman's visit, receiving the cards and reminiscing about her joyous summer trip. The postcards were featured on her coffee table in a place of prominence, offering her something to share with anyone who came to call.

Sitting in her living room, snow up to the windows, Gram did not feel isolated. She felt loved and thought about. She received the last photo (a sunset over the lake) the week before Christmas. We then picked her up and drove her the four hours to Green Bay to celebrate the holidays with us. Gram proudly brought her stack of postcards and shared them with anyone who would give her the audience. They were a badge that showed how much she was blessed and how much her family loved her.

Sadly, two days before Christmas, my husband's dad (Bob) found his mother had passed way in the night. She had died of a stroke.

Of course, we were all deeply affected by the loss of Gram, but Big Bob was devastated. Six weeks later, we suffered another loss when he, too, passed away. The death certificate said massive heart attack, but we knew it was a broken heart.

So you see, a simple, yet thoughtful gift for Christmas does not need to be expensive, and it doesn't need to wait until Christmas. The last postcard Gram received was (ironically) a sunset. She died happy, fulfilled. She knew that she was loved, and she knew that she was an important part of our family. You can't get that with a box of sugar-free candy, a store-bought sweater, or a trinket for the coffee table. Give a gift of love, and you will never be sorry.

P.S. And don't keep saying, "We should plan a family reunion." DO IT! We're glad we did.

P.P.S. I personally like Snapfish for printing photos, but if you Google Photos to Postcards, I'm sure you'll find a site to help you.

Scrolling Saturdays...The Best Gifts

Scrolling Saturday is the brainchild of Colleen and Melissa.

Okay, I realize that Thanksgiving isn't even here yet, but this idea needs to be shared early. I read a post from someone looking for inexpensive Christmas gifts that are also meaningful, and this one is so good, instead of just posting a comment on her site, I want to share it with anyone who reads this blog. Please be patient with the delivery, as there is more to the story.

In July of 2002, we had a 4444 family reunion. Everyone has them, of course, but this one was special (how special, I learned only later). It was the first-ever 4444 reunion. My husband's entire extended family consists of 21 people. We rented a group of beautiful cottages on Leech Lake, in Minnesota, and stayed for a week; fishing, swimming, boating, etc.

Eighty-five year old Great Grandma Florence (the matriarch of the family) was thrilled to be in the middle of such a fun-filled week. I could write a lot about Grandma Florence, but to sum her up in a sentence, I'll offer one of her favorite quotes, "Love me; love my stink." (Needless to say, she was a real character.)

Having lived a simple life, Gram was thrilled to take part is such a big event, especially one that involved all of her loving family. Family was everything to Gram, so she was in her glory that week; grandchildren and great grandchildren loving her up and sharing their "big catches, found turtles, cribbage games, and lazy times, too. As the unofficial family photographer, I took many, many photos that week. In the back of my mind, I knew these snapshots would be priceless gems in our family, since Gram was getting older and who knew when we would have another reunion like this one.
The following October, I purchased a postcard program (cheap) and made 18 photo postcards from our time at Leech Lake. I then began to send them to Gram at her home in Calumet, Michigan. Each week, I sent one memory, signed by my husband, the kids, or me. Each week, she excitedly awaited her mailman's visit, receiving the cards and reminiscing about her joyous summer trip. The postcards were featured on her coffee table in a place of prominence, offering her something to share with anyone who came to call.

Sitting in her living room, snow up to the windows, Gram did not feel isolated. She felt loved and thought about. She received the last photo (a sunset over the lake) the week before Christmas. We then picked her up and drove her the four hours to Green Bay to celebrate the holidays with us. Gram proudly brought her stack of postcards and shared them with anyone who would give her the audience. They were a badge that showed how much she was blessed and how much her family loved her.

Sadly, two days before Christmas, my husband's dad (Bob) found his mother had passed way in the night. She had died of a stroke. Of course, we were all deeply affected by the loss of Gram, but Big Bob was devastated. Six weeks later, we suffered another loss when he, too, passed away. The death certificate said massive heart attack, but we knew it was a broken heart.

So you see, a simple, yet thoughtful gift for Christmas does not need to be expensive, and it doesn't need to wait until Christmas. The last postcard Gram recieved was (ironically) a sunset. She died happily, fulfilled. She knew that she was loved, and she knew that she was an important part of our family. You can't get that with a box of sugar-free candy, a store-bought sweater, or a trinket for the coffee table. Give a gift of love, and you will never be sorry.

P.S. And don't keep saying, "We should plan a family reunion." DO IT! We're glad we did.

The Tale of the Cumbersome Corset

"Beauty must suffer," Mom always said whenever we complained about having our hair brushed, braided, or otherwise wrangled. Compared to what many women had to use to beautify themselves "back in the day," today's eyelash curlers, bras, and Spanx seem pretty minor. Grandma 4444 (Pat) has a great story that goes back to the days of corsets, and I knew this was the perfect place to share it, so here goes.

Back in the mid-1950's, corsets were a thing of the past; the "Roaring 20's" had put an end to that torture device, but not for some grandmas who had grown up considering them a necessary evil. Pat was just 19 the time she was invited for a night of partying at Grandma Lark's house. Being a relatively young girl, newly-engaged, in a family she was still trying to make an impression on, she didn't "tie one on" as much as some of the older family members did that night. Before long, old Grandma Lark was ready for bed. By virtue of her status, Pat was designated the tucker-inner, so she dutifully followed wobbly Grandma to her bedroom. Helping her remove her clothing, Pat was stymied by the corset, and tipsy Grandma Lark was no help. How to get it off? Several minutes and plenty of sweat later, Pat finally finished the chore to the sound of those downstairs calling to her, "Patsy! What the hell is taking you so long?!" (They were a "voistrous" bunch, those Larks!) She carefully set the corset on a chair and headed downstairs.

"Did you fall asleep with her?! Where have you been all this time?" inquired the remaining partiers.

Pat explained that it had taken her a while to get the corset off; it had taken forever to get the laces undone!

A chorus of laughter erupted before she had barely gotten the words out. Pat had no idea why they were laughing so hard. Chalking it up to the alcohol, she dismissed it. The next day, when she returned to Grandma Lark's house, the reason for the laughter became clear.

"What in the world did you do with my corset?!" Grandma Lark asked, with a tone of puzzled (yet gentle) annoyance. "It's taken me years to get those laces just right. Why didn't you just unhook it?!

Unhook it?

Who knew that removing the contraption would have been quick work, had Pat only noticed the row of hooks and eyes along the side seam, rather than tackling the stubborn laces?! Fortunately, Grandma Lark was a loving person and didn't hold it against Pat. However, that didn't keep her and the rest of the family from telling the story again and again for years to come.

Today, Grandma Pat shares the memory with a smile, and the rest of us smile with her, because we know that she doesn't wear a corset (and Spanx need only be rolled down!!)

P.S. It must run in the blood, for Grandma Lark's daughter, Grandma Florence 4444, was also involved in a famous undergarment story, which will be passed down for generations. Click on Are There Are Panty Hose in Heaven? to read more.

P.P.S. And I challenge you to say "Cumbersome Corset" three times, fast. Good luck!

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Think this is just a pile of rocks?

Think again...Ever since he was stable enough to bend down and pick something up without keeling over, Kyle has been a rock collector. On every trip we took to anyplace that had rocks, he had to take at least one home. Every camping trip, road trip, fishing trip, walk in the woods, or just a stop on the side of the road to pee produced at least one new find.

What makes boys attracted to rocks? I think rocks make boys feel tough, strong; they are the tools/weapons of manly men, all the way back to caveman times. What man doesn't feel manly when swinging a sledgehammer? Rocks make guys feel macho.

The rocks came home and made their way onto dresser tops, inside drawers and shoe boxes, and on window sills. However, after that, they rarely got any attention. Eventually, I gathered a 5-gallon bucketful, and there they sat, untouched, in his closet, for many years. When I remodeled Kyle's bedroom a few years ago, I just couldn't part with that HEAVY bucket of rocks. How could I just discard them? They represented so many fun family times, male-bonding moments, and the carefree days of childhood. I just couldn't let it go; the bucket went into the garage and has sat, for the past two years now.

A couple of weeks ago, I came home to find that Mr.4444 had dumped the rocks out next to the flowerbed. He said he figured we could just mix them in with the "river rock" we already had there. Mix them in? Mix them in?! What was he thinking?! These were our baby boy's rocks! His treasures--confirmation of his rock-hunting prowess and everything that is macho about him. Mix them in with the rocks we paid for? Preposterous!

They've been sitting there ever since, these gems....

The perfect skipping stone? Maybe. (We never found out, obviously, because it came home with us.) Not a rock? Of course it's not a rock, but what boy with his right mind could pass up a piece of wood that looks like an arrow point? Sheesh!
And yes, a bouncy ball made it's way into the bucket (what boy's rock collection would be complete without one?)

The classic quartz piece. Never mind that it's ten inches long and weighs a ton; you can't put a weight limit on treasures, can you?Who in their right mind would see a rock like this one and walk right by?For several years, everywhere we went, Kyle would search high and low for rocks containing fossils. Many times, I would say, "Yes, Honey, I see it" when he'd thrust a treasure under my nose and ask me to see the "fossil." I'll never forget the time he was about four or five and held a tiny rock no bigger than a quarter and insisted that the tiny indentations on it were the silhouette of a triceratops. Gently, I tried to reason with him, but he would have none of it (nor would he a moment ago, when I brought it up again.) Eventually, I let go. Let the boy have his fantasy, I figured. And even if I couldn't see it, Grandpa 4444 could (he saw it right away!)

Of course, the rock collecting was intermittently reinforced with major finds, like the arrowheads he found in the creek up at Camp Nuttin' (hunting camp).Or this beauty, shaped by the millions of crashing waves of Lake Superior at McLain Park, in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.Big-time fossil payoff on this one, if you take the time to look. I must confess that I did not even know what kind of fossil it was until I uploaded this pic!

This rock just screams, "I'm special. Take me home!"
Another rock collection stowaway; a steel ball. Kyle just told me he found it in Great Grandma Florence's cellar after she passed away. Wait a minute--could that be lead? (Oh, man; maybe that one wasn't such a good find.)

When I hiked to the top of Mt. St. Helens, you can bet I grabbed a rock for Kyle. I'm guessing it was this one...And that begs the question--If we don't even know which rock came from that trip, how important can it be to keep it?

He's not a little boy anymore; he'll be a senior in the fall; we can't keep these rocks forever.

So, what to do with them? Build a shrine? (We don't love him that much!) Give them away? See, these are not just rocks; they represent memories, and to expect that anyone would treasure them as we I have would be pointless.

I've asked Kyle what he wants us to do with the rocks, and he says he doesn't care. He doesn't care? How could he not really care?? This is history here we are talking about; bonfires, big bass fish, running on the dunes, walks in the woods. Can I really dismiss his seeming willingness to cast his childhood to the wayside?

He's almost a man. Is it possible that he is no longer insecure in his strength, his power, and that he knows that rocks don't make a man? Maybe he doesn't need these stony ties to childhood?

Maybe we can keep our memories, and toss those treasures into the woods for some other little boy to find one day?

When I started this post, I had no idea of the peace it would give me. I guess it's time.

Anyone wanna a rock?

P.S. Jen, maybe your budding geologist would like one or two of these? Otherwise, I'm chucking them in the woods.

One Man's Trash...

Mr.4444's dad, Bob, was a pack-rat who saved everything. When he died in 2003, we filled a huge dumpster three times with "junk." We did save some things, though, and I can't help but wonder if any of it might be worth something.

Like this glass....um...thingy.

Or these swords, for example.
And how's this for one-of-a-kind? Grandpa Bob made it from a knot or petrified fungus (depending on the lore) that he found in the woods. (Man, that guy was handy.)...

He had a whole box full of these mugs (they say "March for MacArthur" and a year on them). Sorry for the glare...Or this cool stag horn knife/fork set. You don't see these very often....
Or this "telephone table" from Gram Florence's (Bob's mom) house. I love it, but it's very uncomfortable. (Please ignore the 1/4 inch of dust inside it...)

This is about 1/100th of the stuff Bob collected. Writing this, I've became a little melancholy. I know that having these items makes us feel Bob's presence, so we probably wouldn't get rid of them anyway.

Who am I kidding? Like those people on Antiques Road Show who pretend that they don't mind that their "heirloom" is really only worth about $60, because it was "mostly sentimental value anyway," I know that for the right price, we'd happily part with it.

Besides, Grandpa would be over the moon if some of his "junk" helped pay for his grandkids' educations.

Antiques Road Show, maybe?

Friday Fragments, Episode #114

Hooray! It's time for Friday Fragments! time to unload all of those miscellaneous thought scraps from your week. I'm glad you're here. [First timers, learn more about FF by clicking on the FF tab in my header.]

***It's not really Friday as I type this, but since I don't have students tomorrow, it feels like one. Today was a hell of a day, with screaming, crying, spitting, shoving, head-banging, and restraint (not all the same student). Is there a full moon? I could only feel sympathy for these kids; can you imagine feeling so-out-of control?

***Florence Henderson--Isn't she inspiring on DWTS? Seventy-six years old, and she looks and dances better than many women a lot younger than she is! Bristol danced as well as a pine tree (my humble opinion) on the first night, but I think she's made excellent progress! I'm enjoying this new season.

***And speaking of new seasons, GLEE! (Need I say more?)

***My Favorite Friday Fragmenter from last week is Cyndie, of Putting the Fun in Dysfunctional, who wrote about making her son another birthday cake (the Dinosaur Dig Cake!):

It looks really easy, and Andrew will LOVE it!

Especially because the dog at the cake we had for his birthday dinner on Monday.

I thought I had put it out of her reach, but I guess I underestimated her! WOOPS

I told Andrew, "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, she ate my birthday cake, too!"

If you're a regular reader (which means you've forgiven me for not visiting lately--God BLESS you), you know why I loved that fragment. Thanks, Cyndie!!

***One of our favorite nieces is coming (from California) to visit this weekend. She and her wonderful husband will just be here two days, so we will pack in a lot of chillin' and catching up. We haven't seen them in years--I'm so excited!

***A few weeks ago, when Mr.4444 was especially missing Kyle and worrying like a typical dad, he said,
"I know you have to let them fly out of the nest, but there are a lot of hawks out there!" So sweet.  Our little bird called this week with exciting news--He got his ears pierced!  (Who knew hawks travelled with needles?!)  Kyle says the pierced ears have made him a real "chick magnet."   He also joined a fraternity (the good kind) and is attending a leadership training this weekend.  I'm not worried; he's an eagle, remember? :)

Now's your chance to unload your own fragments. Link up below and be sure to visit some old and new freinds! [Sorry--FRIDAY FRAGMENTS posts only. Others will be deleted.]

Cookie Jar Controversy

I was twelve when my last grandparent passed away, and I barely knew him, my dad's dad, Granville. We visited him now and then, and I remember hugging and kissing him goodbye each time, but that's about it. I remember only one thing about his wife, Grandma Blanche, who passed away long before that (when I was eight); I remember her giving us cookies from a koala bear cookie jar much like this one:

click photo for source

I have my own retro cookie jar.

It came to us from Mr.4444's grandma, Florence.

Isn't he cute?

I rarely make cookies, and I try to eat them even less often,

but I love our cookie jar, so he has a place of prominence in our kitchen,

and he holds cookies approximately five days per year.

One day, I may be giving cookies from it to my grandchildren,

but today my cookie jar holds treats for a different kind of treat-lover.

I just decided to put them in there this morning, and just now, I told Mr.4444 about it.

He's mortified; he says it's a sacrilege (against cookies, not against God) 

and that I need to move them before I completely ruin the "aura" of the cookie jar.

He said, "Ask any of your friends; they'll agree with me."

Now, I don't need anyone else to tell me to take them out; 

I'll do it because I love Mr.4444 and live to make him happy, of course.[wink]

However, I am interested in your opinion;

Are you appalled? Amused? Indifferent? Something else?