Category: family

A to Z Blogging Challenge · family

F is for Family

Sally12 Comments

The background is from Mother Night by Denys Cazet.

The family is from Wheels on the Bus (a Raffi Song to Read book) illustrated by Sylvie Kantorovitz Wickstrom.

I love the way this picture turned out. The family is the point of light in a dark world.

The question is, are they coming or going? Are they refugees fleeing a greater darkness? Or are they arriving home after a long journey?

Whichever it is, I see them pausing to look at their house.

In statistics, an outlier is an observation point that is distant from other observations.

I don’t think of my little family as outliers, though. I think of them as looking at home.

 

elderly · family · photography

New Use for an iPod

Sally25 Comments

For a couple of years, my father kept saying, “I need one of those things,” and he would mimic someone holding a device in their hand and tapping on the screen.

We tried to convince him that an iPad would work well for him — it’s bigger and does a lot of the same things — but no dice. He was sure he needed a smart phone.

Last summer one of my sons upgraded from a iPod Touch to an iPhone, so we gave his iPod to my father. We could connect it to wi-fi in the house and it would function in basically the same way as a phone. My son set up an iTunes account for him, and I had my sister send him his one and only message.

At 87, this is one new trick the old dog can’t learn.

It sits on his tray table. I charge it about once a week for him. The one time I forgot, he told me that we needed to buy new batteries for it. Modern technology is hard for an older person to understand — even the basics of recharging a device.

But every day, he picks it up and pushes the home button. I put a picture of my mother on his lock screen.

“Good morning, Elinor,” he says, and then he sets it down.

I think he finds some security in seeing her face each day.

He found a use for the iPod I wouldn’t have guessed.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · family

A is for Anticipation (part two)

Sally13 Comments

I mailed this card to my friend, Shannon, whose blog, moving honestly, is a most aptly named blog. The barn is from a falling apart copy of Ox-Cart Man, written by Donald Hall and illustrated by Barbara Cooney. Honestly, I’m not 100% sure where the bunny or the background came from. I’m pretty sure that the rabbit was in an over-sized scribbled-in copy of Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The snow scene — I just don’t know. I should keep better track of these things so I can give appropriate credit.

But here it is — April 1 — and I woke up to snow.

Every day, my father looks for blue skies. “Do you think we’ll see any blue skies today?” he asks every morning, peering out the window, not unlike my rabbit, wishing that he wasn’t seeing snow.

I left the house early this morning. My husband knows how stressed I have been lately and offered to hold down the fort so I could do something fun. I made plans to meet one of my children for breakfast.

My drive was beautiful. Snow clung to the trees and mist hung like a curtain on the hills. I finally pulled over to take a picture.

“Fred” treated me to breakfast. When we were going through the line, I answered a trivia question and won a free blueberry muffin from the chef. He rang wind chimes over the register when I told him the correct answer. His glasses were modeled after Elton John’s — white and rhinestone encrusted. I tried to refuse the prize because he had given me a hint.

“No, no,” he said, “I only told you what I wanted to tell you.”

He smiled, handed me my muffin, and started singing. It wasn’t “Good-bye Yellow Brick Road.” “Fred” says he sings all the time.

We went to a craft store after breakfast. I needed more Modge-Podge for my collages.

“Do you want me to ask where it is?” “Fred” asked.

“No,” I said, ” I think I’d just like to wander and find it.”

So we wandered, not in any order, sort of serpentine.

A man in the poster section called to us. “Hey! Look at this one,” he said to us as we walked past. He lifted a poster out that showed a silhouette of a cowboy riding a horse against a backdrop of red sky. “My wife knows this guy. She used to live in Wyoming.” The man was older, wearing a red flannel shirt and a NASCAR cap, and glasses with photochromic lenses — and he was pleased as punch that he was that close to celebrity.

“That’s pretty cool,” “Fred” and I both told him.

We continued our lazy search for Modge-Podge and eventually found it.

When I finally got back home, my dad asked if I had seen any blue skies.

“Not today,” I told him.

“Are we going to see blue skies sometime?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” I said.

He’s living in anticipation of those blue skies. I know they’ll come. Sooner or later.

But for today, I’m going to live in the moment. I’m going to eat a blueberry muffin given to me because I knew something about David Cassidy, and revel in the fact that I met a man whose wife knows the guy on a cowboy poster.

It’s a good day.

 

family

Fortune favors…

Sally5 Comments

Thinking today about fortune…

I found many quotes about fortune favoring boldness or bravery:

  • Fortune favors the audacious. Desiderius Erasmus
  • Fortune favors the bold. Virgil
  • Fortune and love favor the brave. Ovid
  • Fortune always favors the brave, and never helps a man who does not help himself. P. T. Barnum

Then I took a little road trip.

I found this fascinating article about how changing a simple thing like font can improve retention and student performance.

  • Fortune favors the bold (and the italicized).

(Diemand-Yauman, C., et al. Fortune favors the ( ): Effects of disfluency on educational outcomes. Cognition (2010), doi:10.1016/j.cognition.2010.09.012)

And I found a quote from an entrepreneur, a young woman who followed her dreams and started an e-commerce fashion site

  • Fortune favors action! If you are reading this sitting on a job you don’t like, quit your daydreaming and start living the dream.  Ishita Sharma

This seemed an appropriate quote to follow hers:

  • In an über world, fortune favors the freelancer. Tyler Cowan (New York Times, June 27, 2015)

Louis Pasteur, the Father of Microbiology, kept cropping up.

  • Fortune favors the prepared mind. Louis Pasteur

Really, I was looking for a quote about bowling. Something along the lines of

  • Fortune favors those with bumpers in their alleys. 

I can’t find anybody who said that though.

 

But I know it to be true.

Faith · family

Just Keeping It Real

Sally5 Comments

I read a comment on Facebook yesterday about women’s faith blogs — how they talk about messy lives but fail to show the mess. Let me show you my mess. Without my mess, my blog is meaningless.

It’s after 9 AM. I’m still in my pajamas. My top is an oversized men’s shirt that I bought at a thrift store. My flannel pants are old and comfy. I put on socks because my feet get cold in the morning. I grabbed the ones on the floor by my bed because they were closest, and I was bleary-eyed from a lousy night’s sleep. The socks are threadbare. Just keeping it real.

My left ankle aches. The bruising from my knee injury is draining to my feet. I asked a doctor about it — the husband of a friend — at a swim meet because I didn’t want to make a trip to the clinic. He said it was normal. It looks awful but no one sees my ankles, and I can live with the ache. But I prop my leg up like an old woman, and I guess I am.

When I finish my quiet time, I hide my pile of books on the floor by the chair where I usually sit. If I don’t, my father may start looking through them. It’s not there’s anything I don’t want him to see and I would be happy to share them, but something about unbidden looking feels like an invasion of my minimal privacy.

The dog follows me everywhere. She sleeps by my bed. I hear her licking at weird hours of the night. At 5 AM she follows me down the stairs, and up and down with me every time I use the bathroom or get something from my bedroom. She has bad breath and thunks up and down the stairs gracelessly.

The kitchen table is a mass of papers. My parents have always had clutter problems. I inherited that gene. What if something I recycle turns out to be important?

… but

If I choose to focus on the positives…

My coffee was delicious this morning. Fresh ground coffee beans make all the difference. Even “Fred” said this morning, “Mom, you make great coffee.”

Yes, “Fred” is visiting. And Helen. And Bud is back from his business trip. My father is working on the crossword puzzle in the chair next to me. Philip and Henry video-called this morning. I am surrounded by family and feeling oh-so-blessed.

Even the dog is in the room, lying on the floor far enough away that I can’t smell her. I can see where her coat is turning from black to gray and am reminded that she is an old dog. How much longer will we have her? I don’t know, but I’m going to be thankful for that time.

“Fred” is trying to write a haiku for Henry and every line rhymes. Helen laughs, and says, “Haikus don’t have to rhyme, you know,” but “Fred” keeps working on it.

Life is good. Even with a cluttered kitchen table and threadbare socks.

 

 

Faith · family

Caregiver’s Serenity Prayer

Sally6 Comments

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot do,

I can’t “fix” my loved one.

I can’t make him think more clearly.

I can’t make him understand.

I can’t go back in time, and mustn’t languish over how or what he was, because he is who he is now and that’s where we are.

Courage to do the things I can,

I can handle business affairs — writing checks, paying bills, scheduling appointments.

I can do laundry.

I can prepare meals and serve snacks.

I can answer the phone.

I can chauffeur.

I can explain things over and over and over and over, and set my exasperation aside.

And the wisdom to know the difference.

When I lay in bed at night, let me not angst over the battle, but, in the weariness of a hard-fought day, take my rest knowing that I did the best I could.

Few will see or know what I do.

My own loved one will never fully grasp the sacrifice that I, and my husband, and my children, are all making on his behalf.

But it is right and good.

And You know, o Lord.

Let that be enough.

Adapted from The Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr.

family

Pi Day

Sally4 Comments

On Pi Day (3/14) I made pie: shepherd’s pie for dinner and lemon meringue pie for dessert. I forgot to take a picture of the shepherd’s pie at all, and I snapped a shot of the lemon meringue after we had already had some.

Today I was thinking about the Meal-on-Wheels controversy. Apparently Donald Trump proposed cutting funds that provide for that program.

At first I was horrified.

My father-in-law relied on Meals-on-Wheels. Of course, he didn’t always like the meals and let us know. He also saved up the little cans of juice that he got with the program and offered them as treats to his grandchildren. It turns out nobody really liked them.

If Meals-on-Wheels funding had been cut back when he was using it, what would have happened? I’m sure we would not have let my father-in-law go hungry. My first call would have been to his church and the next to other people in the community where he lived most of his life. It would have taken some work, but we would have figured something out.

It would have required something of me.

I thought about Meal-on-Wheels on Pi Day, because I know my father isn’t a huge shepherd’s pie fan. I comforted myself with the fact that he was getting a hot homemade meal — not because I’m part of a government program, but because I’m his daughter.

This morning I read this from Pascal:

Dost thou wish that it always cost Me the blood of My humanity, without thy shedding tears?

I fear that we, as a people, are reaching a point where we are always looking for someone else to pay the cost without us having to shed a single tear. Or make a meal for someone else. Or even help ourselves.

If governmental funding for Meals-on-Wheels is cut, we could still get to work and make sure our elderly are fed.

When the going gets tough, we need to look for ways to help.

 

 

family

Old Habits Die Hard

Sally5 Comments

“Aw, phooey,” he said, as he handed me the shovel and turned to go back inside.

“Aw, hell,” he said, as he hung up his coat and turned toward his walker.

We are in the midst of a major snowstorm. The Weather Channel said something about 48″ around Cooperstown. I believe it.

Even the dog doesn’t like it — and our dog loves snow. Maggie can’t play in this. All she can do is flounder.

Last night and this morning Laurel and I shoveled for a while and barely got past one car. Then my brother, Peter, came down to borrow the car because he needed to go into town. His driveway is much longer than ours, and the plow guy hadn’t come yet.

So Peter walked over and together we shoveled.

And shoveled.

And shoveled.

We finally had a path wide enough to back the car out. I ran into the house to get Peter some money so he could pick up a prescription for my father. Just inside the door stood my father, coat on, gloves on, ready to head outside.

“Where are you going, Dad?” I asked.

“Well, I’m going outside to help,” he said.

“I think we’re all set,” I told him.

“Do you know how much work it took to get all this stuff on?” he asked, and headed for the door.

I sighed, and ran to find my wallet. It wasn’t worth arguing about, and he might like to see all the snow.

When I came back out, Peter was talking to my father on the ramp leading to the house. Laurel and I had barely shoveled a path wide enough for the walker to fit. I gave Peter the money and he left.

“Okay, Dad,” I said, “let’s go back in.”

“I want to go get that shovel,” he said, pointing to the shovel I had shoved into the snowbank.

“I can get it,” I told him, but he pretended not to hear me and headed down the ramp.

When he reached the shovel, I was right behind him. “Let me take that back to the house for you,” I said, reaching for the shovel.

“I’d like to shovel,” he said.

I groaned. He started shoveling. Inside I was feeling frustrated.

“Dad,” I said, trying to sound calm and reasonable, “you may have reached the time in your life when you need to let others do things for you — like shoveling.”

He stopped and looked at me. “I’m not helpless,” he said.

I walked back to the house and stood there. Why can’t he just stop? I muttered in my heart.

I touched Tuga was in my pocket. Go help him, Tuga seemed to whisper.

I grabbed another shovel and went back down to where my father was shuffling snow. He leaned on his shovel when I got there. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, and handed his shovel to me.

“Aw, phooey,” he said, and I felt a little sad.

“Aw, hell,” he said when we got inside, and my heart broke a little more.

His instinct was to help, and I had just told him that he couldn’t.

 

family · swimming

The Record Board

Sally2 Comments

Whenever I go to a pool, my eyes are drawn to the record board.

It’s kind of funny, because I haven’t always been a fan of the record board. Helen still holds over 20 age-group records at the pool in Cooperstown — the earliest from when she was 8 years old, and the latest from when she was 13. Then we moved, and she started racking up high school records in Greene.

Margaret in the middle

A couple of years ago, I caught one of the swimmers in my group staring at the record board in Cooperstown.

“Do you know Helen Zaengle?” she asked.

“I do,” I told her. “She’s my daughter, and she’s Laurel’s sister.”

“Wow,” Margaret said. “She has a lot of records. I’m going to break some of them.”

That was the moment my feelings about the record board changed.

Helen was very good at swimming from a young age. She loved winning races — although there was one time when she asked me why she couldn’t get a rainbow ribbon (the ribbon handed out for participation); all her ribbons were blue.

The record board wasn’t posted at the time, and, quite frankly, I think Helen and I were both unaware of all the records. When the record board went up, part of me felt a little embarrassed because I never sensed that Helen was swimming for the glory of the record board or all the accolades. She swam with the truest sense of the amateur — a love of the sport.

But I worked in the pool these last few years with all those records at my back, and I tried not to look at them. Don’t misunderstand — I am very proud of Helen, but not because she rules the record board. I just think she’s wonderful.

Margaret helped me to see that the records are goals for other swimmers, not to induce pride, but to produce hard work.

Michael Phelps said, “Goals should never be easy,” and Margaret took that to heart. She’s 10 years old now and continues to push herself harder than her peers. She still hasn’t made it to the record board, but I have no doubt that she will.

Laurel swimming breaststroke

Last year, Laurel made it to the record board, by breaking a record that had been up there since before Helen was even born. 11-12 100 Breaststroke.

This year Laurel was studying the records to see if there were any she was close to.

“How about that one,” I said, pointing to 13-14 200 Breaststroke. “I think that one is do-able, maybe not this year, but next.”

The name next to the record: Helen Zaengle.

Helen called me right up. “I heard you told Laurel to break my record,” she said.

“Heck, yes, I did,” I replied.

“I think that would be great,” she said.

She holds her records with open hands, bidding other swimmers to take them, and I think that makes me even prouder than all the records combined.