Sometimes this seems too private to write about, although my whole blog is a tribute to my father in a way. He truly was the influence of our lives. The granddaughters who remember him, all wrote something in school about their grandfather. Michelle achieved an A with hers. I'm sure the others did, too.
So twenty two years ago today, we buried my dad at age sixty eight. I knew he was dying. We had left the private hospital room after being there all day, my brother, mom, sister, Diane, baby Katie and I. We had said our good-byes as he slipped into non-responsiveness. The nurses on two shifts told us all how wonderful a man he was. They enjoyed coming into his room. He lifted them up.
Two songs ran through my head that day- American Pie and Fire and Rain. My music died some that day. Our hope had been that we would see Dad again before it was obvious that a yeast infection in his blood from the chemo would be his demise. I sat in a secluded corner to nurse Katie while I softly sang those lyrics.
That night at home I journaled about what my dad meant to me. Around two in the morning, Diane called me to let me he was gone. A dark morning, one of the girls from ICU called to say they were bringing me a sandwich platter. How did they know Dad was gone? They didn't, they were just thinking of me traveling to Cleveland every day.
I tore out that page of my journal to give to Reverend Hicks to use for the funeral. I didn't think to make a copy of it or ask for it back. At the funeral, which we held in the sanctuary, the family sat in the front row. All of us trying so hard not to bawl our eyes out. Mom remarkably held her emotions well. I thought I'd comfort her, but she proved strong. Reverend Hicks read my journal page and then opened the floor for people to comment on how my dad affected their lives. Diane stood first, breaking into tears. Fred Livingston recounted how my dad took him and his brothers under his wing after their father died so early in life. Many others also gave their stories.
Years later my brother-in-law, Ray, the preacher, commends that funeral. He never saw so many people say how much a person affected their life. He has experienced many funerals.
I know so many have lost a loved one, and many loved ones. Each one is special. I read the new style obituaries, the person comes out in the story. At first that was a little unsettling, yet now I find the stories comforting and enjoyable. We are more than what is between the dash. You know, the dash between our birth year and our death year. Celebrate while you're living, those you love and celebrate after they have gone, too. Be thankful for every day you have together and that God blessed you with someone wonderful.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Help Someone
What a day! I should blame it on hormones. As I was catching up on all the computer work for my job this morning, as I was thinking back on the stories of people who need help making me feel so limited, the tears gathered in my eyes. Two phone calls from my husband, then a co-worker and the tears let loose.
A bright part of the day is the commemoration of famous authors' birthdays. Charles Dickens is two hundred years old. Sinclair Lewis also entered the world on this day, 1885. And my favorite, Laura Ingalls Wilder, in 1867. At least, I have read more of her books and reread them. I have mentioned before, I love her simple style, yet so descriptive, drawing a person into the story. I entered her embarrassment at being scolded for not being as good as Mary, and joined in the anger at her teacher's injustice, who later would be her sister-in-law. I cried when Jack, the good, faithful brindle dog died. I think I can understand why she never wrote about the baby brother who died, probably too painful for her.
Children's stories written well speak volumes. We learn so much from them. I always marvel at the old Disney movies written on two levels. The lines were not innuendo or in poor taste. They seemed to engage the adults that watched, a reward for bringing the children to the theater.
Another bright spot today, among many, was Mary DeMuth's newsletter about her twenty year struggle to get her first novel about her grandmother published. She had published others before the twenty years, but it is a great accomplishment. Her best part of the day when she finished this novel, was following God's leading by praying for the pizza delivery man.
So no matter the downfalls or the accomplishments of the day, helping someone is the most important element. Help someone.
A bright part of the day is the commemoration of famous authors' birthdays. Charles Dickens is two hundred years old. Sinclair Lewis also entered the world on this day, 1885. And my favorite, Laura Ingalls Wilder, in 1867. At least, I have read more of her books and reread them. I have mentioned before, I love her simple style, yet so descriptive, drawing a person into the story. I entered her embarrassment at being scolded for not being as good as Mary, and joined in the anger at her teacher's injustice, who later would be her sister-in-law. I cried when Jack, the good, faithful brindle dog died. I think I can understand why she never wrote about the baby brother who died, probably too painful for her.
Children's stories written well speak volumes. We learn so much from them. I always marvel at the old Disney movies written on two levels. The lines were not innuendo or in poor taste. They seemed to engage the adults that watched, a reward for bringing the children to the theater.
Another bright spot today, among many, was Mary DeMuth's newsletter about her twenty year struggle to get her first novel about her grandmother published. She had published others before the twenty years, but it is a great accomplishment. Her best part of the day when she finished this novel, was following God's leading by praying for the pizza delivery man.
So no matter the downfalls or the accomplishments of the day, helping someone is the most important element. Help someone.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Maple Sugaring Time
For a while I have noticed the hoses from one tree to the other. I wonder if it is just easier to leave them up or if with this warm, unusual winter, syrup can come with any warming of the weather. But today, the tin buckets hung from a hundred trees.
As a kid, riding in the back seat around northeastern Ohio in March, my mom pointed out the buckets. She explained their purpose. Another time, they bought me maple sugar formed into shapes, like the obvious maple leaf, but also old fashioned dressed people and I think a cat, too.
My favorite explanation about sugaring time lives in Little House in the Big Woods, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. They all gather at the grandma's bigger cabin for a grand time, with dancing. Laura describes it all, even fighting with her cousin, the other Laura. As I was checking her spelling, I see tomorrow is her birthday.
I just loved seeing those tin, a little bit rusty, buckets in the bright sunshine on my way home. It is a sure sign of late winter. I can't complain about this winter. Though it does remind me of paraphrasing C.S. Lewis- always spring, never summer. As my grandma would say, "Good pneumonia weather." It is easy to run around without a coat, then evening comes with a deeper cold. I do miss the snow. Brown is brown even in the yellow sun. Soon, though, the spring will be here with summer close behind.
As a kid, riding in the back seat around northeastern Ohio in March, my mom pointed out the buckets. She explained their purpose. Another time, they bought me maple sugar formed into shapes, like the obvious maple leaf, but also old fashioned dressed people and I think a cat, too.
My favorite explanation about sugaring time lives in Little House in the Big Woods, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. They all gather at the grandma's bigger cabin for a grand time, with dancing. Laura describes it all, even fighting with her cousin, the other Laura. As I was checking her spelling, I see tomorrow is her birthday.
I just loved seeing those tin, a little bit rusty, buckets in the bright sunshine on my way home. It is a sure sign of late winter. I can't complain about this winter. Though it does remind me of paraphrasing C.S. Lewis- always spring, never summer. As my grandma would say, "Good pneumonia weather." It is easy to run around without a coat, then evening comes with a deeper cold. I do miss the snow. Brown is brown even in the yellow sun. Soon, though, the spring will be here with summer close behind.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Giving Is Best
I didn't make it to church today as I have some kind of stomach virus. The rumblings started last night and these illnesses wipe me out. I had a low grade fever this morning- yes, I took my temperature. My family went. I knew it would be a good service as Pastor gives us a bit of a preview on Wednesday nights.
The sermon title, "The Key to Everything" was our hint on Wednesday. I assumed the answer would be Jesus. Pastor's theme was giving. I think that is interesting as that has been my thoughts about my writing if you remember a few posts back. Writing has to give back. After I wrote that post I received a message from an old high school friend. My writing gave him some quality time with his daughter. It opened some doors for me to pour into a young person's life.
I also had a discussion on Facebook with a seminary student. I have been thinking even before today about this topic with the Bible verses Malachi 3:10 that gives a promise from God, if we tithe, He will open the Heavens. My God owns the cattle on a thousand hills-Psalm 50:10 He will supply all my needs according to His riches in glory-Philippians 4:19. It is better to give than receive-Acts 20:35 and the one we should all live by- God loves a cheerful giver 2 Corinthians 9:7.
From the sermon notes today, Pastor did not limit giving to just money. We need to be forgiving. Giving of our time, our love, our selves. Jesus gave the ultimate, His life. Are we not to follow His example?
If the Church universal lived up to the giving factor, many social ills could be better managed. That was the argument that the Church does not live this way I had with the seminary student. He felt the Church fell short. I have heard statistics that any church uses their dollars more for the purpose than the government or United Way. Dollar for dollar, in a church, less is spent on administrative costs than on the cause. In a free will offering without forewarning, my church gave $6,000 for Katrina. We support over 60 missionaries abroad with a wide range of services and 26 local missions, giving over $112,000 a year. I'm not bragging, I hope to be encouraging. A church can give, even in this economy.
Pastor Ken says, "You can't take it with you, but you can send it on ahead, so reach deep into your pockets for that moldy money."
I don't often have moldy money, but the principles of giving ten percent, saving ten percent and living on eighty hold more than their weight. Giving is the best.
The sermon title, "The Key to Everything" was our hint on Wednesday. I assumed the answer would be Jesus. Pastor's theme was giving. I think that is interesting as that has been my thoughts about my writing if you remember a few posts back. Writing has to give back. After I wrote that post I received a message from an old high school friend. My writing gave him some quality time with his daughter. It opened some doors for me to pour into a young person's life.
I also had a discussion on Facebook with a seminary student. I have been thinking even before today about this topic with the Bible verses Malachi 3:10 that gives a promise from God, if we tithe, He will open the Heavens. My God owns the cattle on a thousand hills-Psalm 50:10 He will supply all my needs according to His riches in glory-Philippians 4:19. It is better to give than receive-Acts 20:35 and the one we should all live by- God loves a cheerful giver 2 Corinthians 9:7.
From the sermon notes today, Pastor did not limit giving to just money. We need to be forgiving. Giving of our time, our love, our selves. Jesus gave the ultimate, His life. Are we not to follow His example?
If the Church universal lived up to the giving factor, many social ills could be better managed. That was the argument that the Church does not live this way I had with the seminary student. He felt the Church fell short. I have heard statistics that any church uses their dollars more for the purpose than the government or United Way. Dollar for dollar, in a church, less is spent on administrative costs than on the cause. In a free will offering without forewarning, my church gave $6,000 for Katrina. We support over 60 missionaries abroad with a wide range of services and 26 local missions, giving over $112,000 a year. I'm not bragging, I hope to be encouraging. A church can give, even in this economy.
Pastor Ken says, "You can't take it with you, but you can send it on ahead, so reach deep into your pockets for that moldy money."
I don't often have moldy money, but the principles of giving ten percent, saving ten percent and living on eighty hold more than their weight. Giving is the best.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Pay Day
Thursdays were paydays for my dad at Sharon Steel. We shopped on those evenings. Most of the time it was the Sharon Store. Dad, either cashed his check there or most likely paid off a credit card.
Yesterday, I was telling a new patient that I was a "border girl" living on the state line. She remarked, "One foot in PA and the other in Ohio."
"Yes," I replied, "Did you ever go to the Penn-Ohio Drug? It had a red line through the store. As a kid, I did that, put one foot in Ohio and the other in Pennsylvania. Now, you can buy both states lottery tickets there. They gave up the drug store."
She thought that was a great thing. Then she mentioned Valley View.
What a great store that was to go to on pay day. As a kid, I loved hanging in the toy department. The store was huge, the toy department also very large, a kid's dream. I wandered over the isles and isles of toys, admiring them all. At Christmas time, I gazed at the rows and rows of decorations. Valley View had it all, a magical store, at least to a child.
Then in sixth grade, I loved the record department. I scrutinized the 45's, as I was only allowed one per visit. I had a collection of the greatest hits of 1973. Little Willy, Daniel, Good-bye Yellow Brick Road, Go All the Way, I remember vividly because the jacket had a contest to win a VW, with a trumped up front like a Rolls Royce. Oh, if I could only win that car. I got my first album there as well, John Denver's Rocky Mountain High. Yeah, my musical tastes are still all over the place.
In the middle of the winter season, one evening we went to the Sharon Store. We shopped all over the store, although we never bought anything not from the bargain basement. This night we were about to give up, but they had added a section that was "Mod." Mom suggested we look in there, which we did. This white long coat- Maxi was an excellent sale price, the best we had seen that evening.
I loved this coat. I felt romantic in it. It was a Dr. Zhivago coat. I can't remember where the blue suede boats were obtained, I think Penney's. I notice in the picture I have different color gloves. I was a real woman before my oldest daughter and her friends made that declaration-"Real women don't have to match their socks." and I may add gloves.
Pay day was fun, an adventure. We usually ate out, too, on these days. Even when money was tight after Dad's accident, he treated us. It may not have been as often, but I believe he budgeted his money for evenings when his little girl growing into a young lady needed a coat.
Yesterday, I was telling a new patient that I was a "border girl" living on the state line. She remarked, "One foot in PA and the other in Ohio."
"Yes," I replied, "Did you ever go to the Penn-Ohio Drug? It had a red line through the store. As a kid, I did that, put one foot in Ohio and the other in Pennsylvania. Now, you can buy both states lottery tickets there. They gave up the drug store."
She thought that was a great thing. Then she mentioned Valley View.
What a great store that was to go to on pay day. As a kid, I loved hanging in the toy department. The store was huge, the toy department also very large, a kid's dream. I wandered over the isles and isles of toys, admiring them all. At Christmas time, I gazed at the rows and rows of decorations. Valley View had it all, a magical store, at least to a child.
Then in sixth grade, I loved the record department. I scrutinized the 45's, as I was only allowed one per visit. I had a collection of the greatest hits of 1973. Little Willy, Daniel, Good-bye Yellow Brick Road, Go All the Way, I remember vividly because the jacket had a contest to win a VW, with a trumped up front like a Rolls Royce. Oh, if I could only win that car. I got my first album there as well, John Denver's Rocky Mountain High. Yeah, my musical tastes are still all over the place.
In the middle of the winter season, one evening we went to the Sharon Store. We shopped all over the store, although we never bought anything not from the bargain basement. This night we were about to give up, but they had added a section that was "Mod." Mom suggested we look in there, which we did. This white long coat- Maxi was an excellent sale price, the best we had seen that evening.
I loved this coat. I felt romantic in it. It was a Dr. Zhivago coat. I can't remember where the blue suede boats were obtained, I think Penney's. I notice in the picture I have different color gloves. I was a real woman before my oldest daughter and her friends made that declaration-"Real women don't have to match their socks." and I may add gloves.
Pay day was fun, an adventure. We usually ate out, too, on these days. Even when money was tight after Dad's accident, he treated us. It may not have been as often, but I believe he budgeted his money for evenings when his little girl growing into a young lady needed a coat.Thursday, February 2, 2012
A Challenge Met
It still amazes me how quickly I can write words. Writing the novel in November and watching the word count go up thrilled me. Tonight I wrote the ending for Vindy's Valentine Writing Contest, eying the count, to not go over. It used to seem daunting to write a limited number of words.
Just last year, I entered the first contest in a long time. The word limit was 500 and I felt limited, nervous about finishing a story. My practice began. Then the blog's genesis the next month kept me writing.
This year, the count was larger. I thought and thought about the story's ending and then writing came fairly easily. My hardest part of the process is understanding the technical aspect of getting my story from where I wrote it to my e-mail. At one point, I thought I lost it, but I recovered the story.
So it is in cyber mail to Barb Shaffer at the Vindicator's Society room well before the deadline. Now, I wait. Will it be like last year when I read who the winners were on the Sunday before Valentine's Day or will I get a call from Barb?
Just last year, I entered the first contest in a long time. The word limit was 500 and I felt limited, nervous about finishing a story. My practice began. Then the blog's genesis the next month kept me writing.
This year, the count was larger. I thought and thought about the story's ending and then writing came fairly easily. My hardest part of the process is understanding the technical aspect of getting my story from where I wrote it to my e-mail. At one point, I thought I lost it, but I recovered the story.
So it is in cyber mail to Barb Shaffer at the Vindicator's Society room well before the deadline. Now, I wait. Will it be like last year when I read who the winners were on the Sunday before Valentine's Day or will I get a call from Barb?
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
I Found the Ending
I came up for the ending of the story for the Vindicator's Valentine's Day contest. Excitement filled me this morning as I could just see the story. The little green bug in the driveway, though, called me to patients' homes.
This will be a short post as I need to write the conclusion, count my words, as well as make them count. The deadline is forty six and a half hours from now. So, only seven hundred fifty words is the limit. I'll let you know how it goes.
This will be a short post as I need to write the conclusion, count my words, as well as make them count. The deadline is forty six and a half hours from now. So, only seven hundred fifty words is the limit. I'll let you know how it goes.
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