Bah Humbug?

The “hell” in Noel, the joy in rejoicing.

I should have known today was going to be a bad day when I dropped a brand new, expensive bottle of smelly medicated shampoo in the shower and it split. The house still smells like tar (T-gel).

Marty and I had planned to get a little bit of shopping done, and get our tree up. Yesterday’s shopping went okay, but I didn’t feel very festive. I got a lot accomplished, but I felt pretty “blah.” I decided today to dress nice and fix my hair and face before heading into the holiday throng.

First stop: Best Buy. We had been debating about buying a photo frame for Marty’s almost-blind mother. She loves to look at photos, but has a difficult time seeing because of her glaucoma. We went back and forth trying to decide if the photo frame would be easy for her to use, be a large enough image for her to see the pictures, or if it would work under her magnifier. We asked for help from customer service, but the “fill-in” guy admitted he didn’t know anything about the frames. When the department manager (yellow jacket guy, not blue shirt guy) came around we asked him some specifics. I tried to explain that the two models we were comparing were mislabeled. They had each other’s model number on the sticker. He didn’t get it and Marty made me stop trying to explain it. We finally decided to get the frame. I figured I could load folders of photos quickly, we could mail the package today, and Mom would be happy. Ho, ho, ho. Ha, ha, ha.

Later, after two phone calls, a fruitless online chat session, download of software that failed, searches on the Internet, and quite a bit of time just spent trying to figure it out myself, I gave up. My first attempt gave her 800 jumbled up photos – pictures from 20 years ago, pictures of dogs, pictures of Nayeli as a baby and at three, pictures of both kids’ weddings, pictures of this past summer, pictures of Marty’s airplane building – completely jumbled together. Hence, the phone calls, chat session, searches and downloads to try to set up slide shows. The clock was ticking for mailing a package. Finally, I decided to put just a hundred or so pictures on the internal memory, and send the SD card later. However, I couldn’t figure out a way to select photos and transfer them to the internal memory. After another half hour of trying I got one photo transferred. And I’m pretty computer savvy. By then I was crying.

In the meantime Marty was trying to put up our Christmas tree. When we lived in Tehachapi we always cut our own tree. When we moved here we decided to go for modern and convenience and invested in one of those expensive trees advertised in Reader’s Digest, etc. They have a 100% lifetime guarantee. Ha ha ha. Ho ho ho. It arrived with some of the lights not working. I called – they said we could put up the tree and send it back later, because if they sent a replacement now it wouldn’t arrive in time for Christmas, or we’d have to pay for a second one. After Christmas I called about getting the replacement. They said we had to send it back. I said can they have a shipping company pick it up? How do we package it? We went back and forth for awhile until they finally admitted their guarantee had changed. They sent me a device to check the lightbulbs.

Each year another string of lights went out. Marty was so aggravated this year he decided to cut out all the lights and string it with regular Christmas tree lights. I had one more item I really wanted to pick up today for a family member at a store near Target, so I said I’d pick up lights at Target. Ho ho ho. Ha ha ha.

First – have you ever been to the “Lancaster International Mall?” It’s one part Tijuana, one part Asian tiny tourist traps in a made-over 24-hour Fitness. Vendors stand outside their metal stalls and try to lure you in. The “boutique” I was looking for was closed.

Okay, zip across the street to Target. Comfortable, clean, cozy, familiar Target. Immediately I was assaulted with the noises of teenage boys making weird sounds trying to pester customers. Then three boys walked by me talking amongst themselves, pretending no one could hear them. They were making sexual innuendos about everything and everything they saw: “Oh, I’m wet and mooshy in my pants.” I thought “I did NOT just hear that!” I walked on, unzipping my jacket. I heard, “oh look, she’s hot for you.” I wondered if I was being paranoid or if they were talking about me. I was torn between stalking them through the store to try to catch them in the act and confront them, or finish my shopping and get the heck out of there. I chose a combination of the two, continuing to run into the guys all over the store. I wanted to tell a manager, but the store was so ridiculously full of irritating people that I would normally associate with a bigger chain.

Target was out of Christmas tree lights. I cried on the way home, listening to beautiful Christmas music.

Why does this happen? I love to give. I love Jesus. I love Christmas. I’m feeling closer to God then I have for years. I finally have a church family again. I get to chat with old friends on Facebook. So why the stress at Christmas?

I know part of it is unrealistic expectations of how much we’re going to get done. I would like to bake, make homemade presents, knit Christmas stockings, design, print and mail 150 Christmas cards, decorate my house beautifully, scrapbook, and cook a wonderful dinner when my family is here on the 26^th. Here’s what I hope to get done – finish printing and sending out 60 Christmas cards that I designed, get the house somewhat decorated, and cook dinner for the family on the 26^th. I did most of my shopping online. I haven’t wrapped a thing yet. I can always wrap on Christmas day, the first family arrives that evening.

I know part of it is the extra stress and pain this year that’s made it the season even harder. First grade is so exhausting, and I wanted to make that last week before winter break so special for the little ones. Then, our beautiful, sweet Alaskan Malamutes had a fight the Friday before the last week of school. We had the stress of vet visits, surgery, sadness over the event, sadness over how Ivy looks, loss over knowing we can’t show or breed Sandy (on her 5^th heat and she’s 21 months, so we have to spay her), frustration over the added expense, and lots of lost sleep as we’ve been sleeping with the dogs. Ivy’s bare ears can’t take the cold nights, we don’t want Sandy to accidentally rip a stitch out…. On top of that is all our older body aches and pain – Marty’s feet, my neck (I fell at work and I officially hate Workmen’s Comp), my sinuses (I don’t think my sinusitis ever cleared up), Marty’s sinuses (his uvulitis almost turned into pneumonia).

Part is bittersweet Christmas memories. I had a hard time at church last Sunday when most of the praise songs were Christmas carols. It was the first time I took a “chill-pill” at this church. It just swept me into memories of people that I still “mourn” – Christmas Eve services that I was intimately involved with. I loved being part of the church body that we worshipped with for 16 years. Most of the time I’m better, but sometimes the pain comes back. Plus it happened at Christmas time – really two Christmases – the crisis, and the next year our final departure. I was the lamb that was lost, and my pastor didn’t try to find me.

I also miss the people at the last church we were at before we moved. I miss being involved in something as fabulous and wonderful as their “Walk Through Bethlehem.” Christmas is when we seem to miss people the most. Marty’s dad died near Christmas. I miss my dad. We miss friends that moved away. Christmas is often associated with sickness, pain, or loss. The expectation of happiness and perfect joy set up against the human existence is a great conundrum.

Part of the problem is feeling the pain of this particular Christmas season. So many families are hurting in this economy. I help where I can. I found out on our last day of school that the reason why one of my little ones had been absent all week -- a family member had been killed in a car accident. I had told her mom at parent conference that I had put her name in for a food basket. The PTA was putting in food baskets for some of our needy families. The mom was so grateful – we have several families living “on the edge.” However, I didn’t understand the process by which the PTA selects families, and she didn’t get selected. The PTA gave me some of the collected food and I’m putting together a basket for my first grader’s family. I just have to call and deliver it sometime tomorrow. I have to get it done.

God gave us the most amazing gift ever when he sent Jesus to be born as a human being, to fulfill all the prophecies, to mend the break between God and man. I thank the LORD that I am now able to feel joy when I worship! Thank you, GOD!

I also feel joy when I am with my family. My son and daughter-in-law are so happy and fun together and their joy overflows onto us. We get to splash around in their happiness! And, of course, grandbabies are such joy-givers! My birthday-gift baby is now three. I sent her a Playmobile Little People Nativity Scene. She asked her mom for the “menu” (directions) and she carefully set up the scene exactly the way it showed on the menu. I also sent her some new shoes. She called me up on the phone. First I heard a silence and a crackle as my daughter handed the phone over. Then I heard a tiny voice saying “I like the shoes.” I’m going to have so much fun watching her and her baby sister (14 months old). “Watching?!” Their other grandma likes to watch me as I get on the floor and play with them. Total delight! And we found out yesterday they have a third “princess” on the way!

I just opened a box of fun stocking stuffers that I ordered for my grown son. I ordered something fun for me, and it’s sitting next to me, quietly cheering me up. It’s a fiber optic colorful Christmas tree that plugs into a USB drive. Thank you, little Christmas tree for your pretty lights!

I know I shouldn’t get stressed. I shouldn’t let rude people get to me. This is the season of JOY, damn it! Maybe I’m being bipolar – I’ll be laughing with my husband at a lunch out during shopping, and a couple hours crying over bad customer service and rude boys. Or maybe I’m normal, and doing the best I can.

Anyway, thanks for letting me share. I know we’ll all have a Merry Christmas, in some way. I am blessed. May the Lord bless you and yours!

- Ann

Conversations with a Three Year Old

When you're a first-time grandma you take delight in the first utterances from the precious one's mouth. I was blessed during Nayeli's first four months to be able to spend long periods of time with Rhiannon & Jason, and we "imprinted" on each other. After all, she was born on my birthday, so we were sure to have a special connection!

The first name she called me was kind of a long, drawn out "Maaaa." When she wanted out of her room (if she was supposed to be going to sleep and was putting in last requests, i.e. water, toy, one more song) she would start out calling, "Mama," "Mama." She'd lay on the floor and call under her door. Then she'd start calling "Maaaaaa." It was hard to resist but I usually did, trying to respect Rhiannon and Jason's bedtime rules.

Nayeli visited while R&J went to a wedding when she was about 21 months old. She loves our dog, Ivy, who is a gentle giant of an Alaskan Malamute. One of Nayeli's earliest words was "Ibee". She would pray for Ibee and "Tee" every night. Tee was what she called our cat, Misty. When Nayeli would visit we'd go through a little routine where we'd tour things around the house. I'd pick her up and we'd look at my collections, the animals on the fireplace, and the pictures on the wall. She'd get excited when she saw "Mommy," "Daddy," "Calbin," or "Ibee." We were standing in front of a collage Rhiannon had made for me of Nayeli's first year. Nayeli loved looking at baby pictures of herself. There are several photos of Nayeli with other people, including me. She would point and say "who's dat?" I'd answer, or I'd say "who is it?" She'd point out "Mommy," "Daddy." Then she saw one of the pictures of her with me and she pointed to the picture, and said "MA!" Then she turned in my arms to face me. She put her hands on my cheeks, looked in my eyes, and said wonderingly, "Ma!"

Nowadays I am "Grandma." Or usually, "Grandma, Grandma, Grandma." "Grandma, Grandma, watch me!" (jump off a rock in our backyard). "Grandma, Grandma, I want, I want, I want." The first time I heard her at a complete loss of words was at Disney California Adventure when I told her she could pick out a toy for her upcoming adventure. Her favorite princess is The Little Mermaid, Ariel. We found a playset for ages 3 and up of Ariel and her companions. She held the big box in trembling hands and said, "Grandma, grandma, I, I, I, grandma, I want, I want, Grandma, this, this, this for birthday?!" I agreed that I would get that for her for her birthday but she couldn't play with it until then because it said for ages 3 and up, and she'll be turning 3 on her birthday. She was quite satisfied with that.

As her vocabulary has increased, so have the chances for embarassment. For several amusing vignettes, check out Rhiannon and Jason's blog. One story Jason told recently involved a toy I bought her at Disneyland. She LOVED "It's a Small World" and I bought her a little boat that had four children from different countries. One of the children wore a sombrero. That was last February. A couple weeks ago, Nayeli brought it to Jason, saying, "Look, Daddy, I found a teeny tiny Mexican under the couch!" Pretty funny/disconcerting for a culturally enlightened teacher of Spanish living in a mostly Hispanic neighborhood in Nipomo!

I visited my Mom for twelve days at the beginning of July. That also allowed me to spend a fair amount of time with Nayeli and her baby sister, since they all live on the central coast. Nayeli would wrap her arms around me and squeeze. "I love you so, so, so much, Grandma!" Grandmas live for moments like this.

They visited us for a few days at the end of July/beginning of August. I noticed that Nayeli, now 3 1/4 years, has become quite the conversationalist. She seems to know that it's normal to converse at dinners, so she would bring up topics for discussion. She asked me, "Do you know Grandma Pam?" "Yes, I know Grandma Pam, she's very nice," I told her (Pam is Jason's Mom). "Do you remember Gram?" (My mother). "Yes, I remember Gram." "Gram, she, she, she, she, goes in the bathroom!" (laughter). "You're right, Gram does go in the bathroom."

We were looking through one of her ABC magnet books and it said "C" is for "cactus." I asked her if she knew what a cactus, and she gave her standard answer for "I don't know," "ummmmm..." I told her I would show her a cactus on our next walk. That evening we were walking all four dogs (they have two, we have two), and the baby in the stroller. Near the end of the walk we come to a neighbor who has a beautiful cactus garden. By this time Nayeli had stopped running (she was walking Ivy, who weighs 130 pounds, tugging at her leash whenever Ivy wanted to stop and sniff). I said to Nayeli, "here is what I wanted to show you." I showed her several cactus plants, explained how the leaves are thick to store water, and said the spines or thorns are "owie." Then she started running for our house.

The next evening we were almost done with out walk. The baby was happier that night, and the dogs really knew the routine. When we were almost done Nayeli saw the cactus garden. She ran ahead, saying, "Come on, Grandma, you need to tell me about something!"

Grandmas (and grandpas) live for these moments of wonder, enlightenment, and affection from these little ones. These little ones are also terrifically honest, however. On one of my visits in July we had had a great day going to the park, going to the beach, and playing at home. I told her I was going to have to "hit the road, soon," because I had to get back to "Gram's" house. She found out that her family was going to visit some friends for dinner. Those friends have three little ones. Nayeli was sitting on my lap and she told me, "I want you to hit the road now, Grandma. Hit the road!"

Nayeli's Grandpa, Marty, visited them on his own in July, to take Jason and Nayeli to an airshow. Nayeli loved the airplanes, and she spend most of her time on Grandpa's shoulders. It warmed Marty's heart to see her run up to different airplanes and say she wanted a picture by that plane, or that tire. Afterward he had her glue up some parts for the airplane he's building. It was a terrific Grandpa/Granddaughter day. When it was almost time for him to head home, Nayeli found out it was bathtime. She loves bathtime so she told Marty, "Grandpa, the door is over here." She showed him to the door!

When you have conversations with a three-year-old you never know what you're going to get. So you take it all - the sweet, the funny, the embarassing, and the surprising!

GoodlyMcNight!

Soon after Mom and Dad got married I discovered that Daddy had a language of his own. Each night he would tell me "GoodlyMcNight." I would ask "are you Irish?" and he would answer, "No, I'm Polish."

When we cooked chicken we used the whole chicken, so we were always finding chicken bits - livers, hearts, etc. in with our wings and drumsticks. But with Daddy around most of those chicken bits were "gilberts," with the exception of kidleys (kidneys). He had a thing for replacing "n's" with "l's". Disneyland was Disleylant.

I think he liked to play with the sounds of words. He was a jazz musician, and he had a gift for languages. I believe he knew German, and some Polish and French. In his later years he tried to pick up Spanish by watching Telemundo. Since he said he was Polish I would cook him Kielbasa, or smoked pork hock & beer stew. The German part of him loved German sausages - a highlight in my teen and young adult years was going with him to Berghoff's in Chicago. French cuisine was introduced in the form of escargot. As an adult I've never eaten it, but as a teen I would try some at the White Horse Inn before our lobster entree.

We lived in the San Fernando Valley, which had its own amusement park in those days. Busch Gardens opened in Van Nuys at the Anheuser-Busch brewery in 1966. Mom and Dad married in 1969 and we took many trips to "Birdland," as my dad called it. We would take the monorail ride through a building which demonstrated how beer was made, and into the park. The smell of hops and beer imprinted on me... however I never did develop a taste for beer (not even when I went off to college!) My sister and I would put up with the boring part of the ride in order to get to the wonders inside... beautiful gardens, birds everywhere, and a handful of rides. Amazingly enough, "Birdland" had free admission, although I suspect that the main reason we visited often was the free beer. I learned that Daddy's favorite beer was the premium brand, Michelob. He preferred Busch to Budweiser. Barbara and I were thrilled when Busch Gardens opened a log ride. That made waiting on our parents outside the beer pavilions all the more worthwhile. Log rides are still my favorite kind of amusement park ride - if you're going to go shooting downhill, let's have some water to land in.
Besides the free beer, Busch Gardens was best known for its collection of birds. Mom and Dad's car (I'm not sure if it was the Mustang or the Cougar XR7) developed a high-pitched screech when they first turned it on. Daddy would say, "ah, Birdland." To this day, when I hear a car make that noise I think "Birdland."

Dust or tiny bits of paper or other debris on the tables were "bits of pih." He would often brush "pih" off a table or his clothes.

He had nicknames for everybody. Babies and kids in general were "ick-mick" Somehow Rhiannon was "the Princess" and Calvin was "the Punk". That hardly seemed fair!

Early on he started calling me "Moldy." I have no idea why. I have thought about it in later years and wondered where it came from, and whether it was positive or negative. However, I was never bothered by it because he always sounded affectionate when he said Moldy. The name stuck into my adult years, because when I got married we became "the Marty and Moldy Show."

Daddy said my sister was "toinky-boinky." At the time I thought it meant she was cute, pretty, and not quite as much into school as her big sister. Later I thought toinky-boinky was kind of mean-spirited, like he was putting Barbara into a certain role. She put herself through college to get a degree in physics, became an optical engineer, worked with astronauts on space shuttle projects, and has been very successfully homeschooling her daughters. No "toinky-boinky" in her!

Most of the funny words and names that Daddy came up with left a positive impression. I still cannot look at chicken parts without thinking "gilberts." They are a part of our family culture. I would be curious to know whether my mom, sisters, or kids remember any other "Aceisms" Daddy had in his unique vocabulary. We should come up with an Ace Glossary! Are any of his words being used by the kids? Will they become part of the next generation?

Goodlymcnight!

The Coolest Man I Ever Knew

The coolest man I ever knew was "Ace", otherwise known as Horace Frederick Hardy III. He was suave, funny, and charming. He was a jazz pianist, a "secret agent man", and an equestrian. He taught me style, manners, and that it's okay to play with your intelligence.

Ace came into my life when I was a very shy, awkward adolescent. I first knew him as my "Secret Friend." Nowadays we might be alarmed if we started getting letters from a man calling himself a "Secret Friend." Back then we had no internet child-stalkers, and besides my mother knew about this - my "secret friend" was her "one true love." My Secret Friend knew that I loved horses so he sent me photos of his horses, clippings of admirable horses from magazines, and notes encouraging me in my riding. He sent me a picture of his horse, "Escalator," with whom he had won the International Reserve Championship in jumping. I later found he had a treasure trove of trophies from jumping. I had started taking riding lessons, paid for by my Secret Friend. Every year for Christmas and my birthday I would ask for a horse (yes I was one of those girls) and every year I'd get another horse figure, book, or poster to add to my collection. The English riding lessons were a dream come true.

My mother, Beverly, had met Ace 20 years before when he was assigned to investigate her by the army's counterintelligence office. Beverly had a friend, Toshiko, who disappeared from school one day when they were supposed to take a test. Bev and her friends were surprised because Toshiko was very studious. Mom describes Toshiko as one of the sweetest and happiest girls at her high school. A friend who lived near Toshiko checked the house and said it seemed abandoned. Toshiko called Beverly a few days later from the Santa Anita racetrack, where Japanese Americans were being temporarily housed in stables. Toshiko's family were eventually settled at Manzanar. Beverly was outraged. At college she began calling these detainment camps "prison camps." She arranged for a speaker at her college chapel, and she wrote letters to her representatives.

In the meantime Bev's father was still working for Walt Disney, who was producing training films for the U.S. military. When some secrets were leaked out Ace was assigned to investigate Mom, who appeared to be pro-Japanese. The boy she was dating was suddenly transferred to another base, and her friends starting pressuring her to meet this "guy." Beverly didn't want to meet this "guy" who didn't sound like her "type." Finally she agreed to meet him. She sat in a coffee house, her back to the door, as the hour for their "date" approached. She could hear people coming in and out of the door, but she couldn't see them. She started to get angry as time passed, because he was late. Then he walked in. She couldn't see his face, but she knew it was him. He walked to her table and they fell instantly in love.

Beverly never believed in the "birds singing", "bells ringing" kind of love, but that's what happened when she and Ace kissed. They dated at her college for awhile, then he took her home to meet his folks. She rode the train to Chicago, and was too nervous to eat. His dad, a very nice, charming man, picked her up at the train station. He offered to give her a tour of Chicago. She's sure it was a wonderful tour, but by this time she was too hungry to concentrate.

When Beverly was shown to her room, after her luggage was brought in, Ace's mother shooed every body out, closed the door and turned her back to the door. She looked Bev up and down and said "you are not what I have planned for my son!" This was the start of an exciting and strange visit. Eventually Ace and Bev decided that although they loved each other they should not marry each other for many reasons. Ace was worried for her safety because he had known the family of a man in Army intelligence whose house had been bombed. Beverly's faith was important to her, and Ace had been brought up in an agnostic or athiest family. Mom loved children, and Ace, a single child, didn't plan to have children. They parted ways, and Beverly decided she would marry the next man who proposed to her.

Unfortunately, the next man who proposed to her turned out to be mentally ill. She didn't realize this until her wedding night. She lived through isolation and many kinds of abuse for almost 20 years because she believed in the sanctity of marriage. However, when her children began to show signs of being "at risk," she sought counsel and eventually filed for divorce. To me the divorce was a relief because my childhood father had been abusive to me.

It was sometime after this that my horseback riding lessons began, and I got letters from my "secret friend." When Beverly decided it was time for us to meet Ace she told us the story about the man she had fallen in love with twenty years before. We met Ace at the Museum of Science & Industry in L.A. I had always been shy with men but I immediately took to this man. His body type was completely different from that of my childhood father, so that helped. He had a twinkle in his blue eyes, and he was impeccably, though casually, dressed.

Soon my "secret friend" became "Uncle Ace." I enjoyed pretending we were related - he began to teach me tunes on our stand-up baby grand piano. I would play a melody - "Five Foot Two," "Lady Be Good," "Honeysuckle Rose," or "Surrey with the Fringe on Top." Uncle Ace would sit next to me on the piano bench and jazz up the song. He was an improvisational jazz pianist who used his craft as part of his "cover" while doing investigations during World War II. He would go to a college town, play piano in a bar, and listen for leads. He also played with several big bands. When I was in high school he enjoyed getting together with the orchestra teacher from our school. Gene would play jazz trumpet, while Ace did his thing on the piano. I loved his piano playing so much I had him play on our wedding day at an outdoor reception at Hardywood Farm in Illinois. We rolled the piano outside on the patio so he could entertain people while the wedding party was still at the church taking photos.

After Mom and Ace got married he quickly became "Daddy" to me. He felt like my "real dad." He'd compare our posting gaits during riding. He'd compare our hands while playing piano and say we had the same hands. He could be strict - but he was never physically violent. He'd be sarcastic and had a quick wit which could cut to the bone. He'd take away privileges, and he would hide things in his desk drawer that we hadn't put away. We learned how to eat everything, including fried chicken, with a knife and fork. We learned how to clean the house and to be respectful to our mom. He had us wait to sit down at the dining room table until our mom was seated. That proved difficult for me when I started dating my husband-to-be because his mother was always jumping up and down "oh, do we need applesauce," "oh, I forgot the salad dressing." I'd be hovering over my chair, lowering.... then pop back up, hover, lower... pop back up!

I loved it when Daddy took me to my orthodontist appointments. I enjoyed listening to him banter with the receptionists. He charmed cashiers, waitresses, clerks, just about any lady he crossed paths with. He could make the ladies feel appreciated and happy. I wasn't worried that he was going to "stray" because Ace and Bev were demonstratively affectionate with each other. It seemed so funny to us teens that she'd sit on his lap, but now I know they were younger than I am now. My husband and I are still affectionate after 30 years of marriage - and Ace and Bev were newlyweds!

For many years it was hard for me and my brother and sister to get to know my dad. My mother explained that he had a "shell" around him. That shell came from having a mom who was a bit nuts and didn't really know how to mother a child, as well as the training he had from being in counter-intelligence. He opened up a little more with me - I was never sure why because my younger sister was adorable. I went to his alma mater, where I met Marty. Ace eventually adopted me, and swore to my husband the night before my wedding that Marty was marrying a "bastard" because I was truly his child. [That whole story can be told another day....]

My sister and I were grateful that during Ace's latter years he loosened up, became more openly affectionate, and would sometimes share stories. He became generous - when my daughter got into college too late to get into one of the few campus dorms, he wrote a check to pay for her entire first year of housing at a private dorm. He loved having my daughter go to college near him. She and her friends would do laundry at her grandparents' house and he'd flirt with her college friends while the wash was running.

My dad could be stubborn but cute on the matters of faith. I accepted Jesus as my saviour after we moved to his family farm in Illinois (a girl from the church we visited invited me on a youth trip...) After years of being the quiet, shy, awkward girl, I blossomed with the help of Jesus Christ, and I wanted to share the good news with my family. I worried about my parents' drinking. My dad called me a "witch-burner." I knew that salvation was not an easy subject to talk about with him. He encouraged mom to take us to church because he knew it gave her joy. My mother loved God, and her first husband wouldn't let the family become part of a church. Although Ace was happy with Mom becoming involved in church, he rarely went to church himself. We were all relieved when he sat down for my wedding and the ceiling didn't crash down (although, come to think of it, a piece did fall down on someone else -- very old church).

My mother got cancer in 1990, and the doctors gave her a year to live. That Christmas Ace and Bev left their nativity scene (a collection my mom started when she was a child) up until the following Christmas. Every time a card came from one of Mom's friends or relatives, saying that she was in their prayers, he'd shake it at the nativity scene and tell "the Jesus people" to "do your stuff or you'll get packed up." Mom eventually became known at Stanford Medical Clinic as "the miracle lady" because she outlived that cancer and a few other cancer scares. Daddy became a believer in the power of prayer. He'd read every card that people sent Mom, and I saw wonder on his face. He asked me to pray for friends who were sick or having trouble.

I asked him once what he thought heaven was. He said heaven would be reliving your favorite moment in life for eternity. (I thought, "What if it's not the favorite moment for the people you're reliving it with?"). I walked him through the gospel message and told him that he could choose at any moment in life to ask Jesus to be his saviour.

My daughter lived with her grandparents during the summers before her freshman year, and her sophomore year of college. One morning in July of 2001 she said goodbye to her grandma and grandpa because she was going to go with a friend up the coast to take photos. She was concerned about her grandpa because he was having trouble "catching his breath." I was hosting Bunko for my Antelope Valley friends in Bear Valley Springs. We had a picnic at Cub Lake, then went up to our mountaintop cabin to play the game. I noticed a message on the answering machine, but decided to check it after our guests left. The message was from my mom - my dad had had some kind of attack and had been taken by ambulance to the hospital.

Marty quickly arranged for a friend to fly me to the coast. My sister also got a friend to fly her from the L.A. area. While we enroute, my sister, my husband, and I were each given a scripture which reassured us that Daddy had indeed come to know his saviour. When I got to the hospital Daddy was on a ventilator. He was unresponsive, but we talked to him, and read him a letter from my half-sister. I washed his hair. When a friend of my half-sister arrived, he was amazed at the peace that surrounded my mom, my sister and I. We were floating on God's promises. The following evening Daddy passed away during the night.

That was the year 2001. My mom has been very busy since then with trips, working with the local museum, and visiting with her dozens of friends. She now has lung disease. It will be ironic if after all her bouts with cancer she is taken down by something unrelated. She is joyful and thankful for all the blessings she has received during the past 18 years - seeing my kids grow up from little kids to young adults, college graduates, married. She saw my sister, who had no children at the time Mom was diagnosed, find joy in motherhood herself. Mom has spent countless hours hosting my nieces and their friends as they visit the coast. She had her grandson live with her for a summer, and her granddaughter and grandson-in-law lived a few blocks away with their newborn baby. She has been able to play with her two great grandchildren. She has seen thousands of ocean sunsets outside her living room window, and taken delight in viewing pelicans, pictographs, and polar bears up close and personal.

Sometimes we're sad that Ace isn't around for some of these things. I would have loved to see him at my daughter's wedding; at my son's graduation. He would have made the best toasts. He would have adored his great granddaughters - after all they are the babies of his "princess" (that's what he called my daughter). His presence is around us though, in the memories we have of him, the collection of trophies in Mom's office, and in his taste in humor, TV, and music that we know so well. "Daddy would have loved this show," or "this song reminds me of my dad." There were times when Ace was grouchy, unsocial, unforgiving, or demanding. However he approached his end with a sense of humor - he said 90% of his systems were operating at 75% or some such number. When Mom was cleaning out some drawers last year she came across some love letters that they had sent each other from years before. It helped bring back to her the man who she fell heart and soul for.

I recently asked Mom for some videotapes so that I could start working on a movie about her to show at her memorial. She's actually okay talking about things like that, and she enjoys telling stories and going over ideas. She doesn't want the movie to be "boring." After my recent visit to her I was copying one of the videotapes to a DVD. It can be a melancholy time of year - Father's Day, my dad's birthday, my parents' anniversary, and the anniversary of his death all ran into each other in the last couple weeks of June, first week or so of July.

I found myself thoroughly charmed by this random videotape from 1999. Daddy would take all the tapes from the year and copy them onto one yearly tape. This tape included a a cousins' reunion, a giant dead sea turtle washed up on the beach, and Christmas. He spent time talking about an amaryllis that they had bought in Gorman on one of their return trips from Stanford. This particular year Mom’s birthday fell on Easter – for the first time since the year she was born. We had a big birthday/Easter celebration, with lots of friends and family. Ace videotaped it. At one point he took a break from the festivities and lovingly described their Easter decorations. Listening to him describe that amaryllis, and those Easter decorations, I was taken aback by the power of love. He loved his life with Mom. He loved the things they did together, like growing an amaryllis. He loved the decorations they put up for Easter and Christmas. Those things always seemed like “Mom-things” to me. But, just as Daddy reminded God of His promise by threatening the “Jesus people” (nativity scene), these funny bunny houses were another reminder of the power of love. The power of love (which we know comes from God) can heal a woman of cancer and give her at least 18 more years with her family. The power of love can bring a reassurance of scripture to their daughters. The power of love can use a woman to transform a man. This man was trained from birth to be cold and distant. This man learned how to be how to take a real interest in the people and things this woman cared for. This man learned how to love more than himself, his parents, his horse, and his wife. God’s transforming power of love is awesome.

I talked to my mom later, the day that I copied that videotape and spent time listening to my dad’s voice and thinking about his character. She said she had received many phone calls that day, including one from Leslie (my half-sister). Leslie always calls on special days, including mom’s birthday, Christmas, and today, which was the anniversary of Daddy’s death. Tears filled my eyes as I told mom I knew we were close to the day but I was fuzzy about the date, and she wouldn’t believe what I was just listening to….

(To play the videos below, click on the arrow)


Ace at the Piano

Ace describing an Amaryllis


The Bunny Village

New Year's Thoughts

I couldn't think yesterday, on January 1st, because we got home at 3:30 am from Praise! night at Knott's Berry Farm. Todd Agnew's concert was awesome - up, close and personal; Kutless was great, of course, Addison Road was cute because the lead singer is preggo, and we ended the night two seats back from Brandon Heath's mike. Great way to celebrate the new year!

Okay, this is my first blog. I'm going to list five pet peeves and ten great things in my life.
Pet peeve #1 - machines that nag. I'm tired of my microwave beeping every couple minutes when I have finished cooking something, or my drier buzzing every couple minutes. Or the car going ding-ding-ding. I know it's to help those of us are who go through life brain-dead half the time (like me), but it still gets on my nerves.
Pet peeve #2 - cigarette smoke - living in California we hardly ever have to be poisoned by second-hand smoke, but there was actually someone smoking at Knott's Berry Farm Praise Night! The nerve of him! I even get bugged when someone is smoking in their car with the window open - it comes in my car. Yuck! I had more than my fair share of second-hand smoke when I was a kid, thank you very much!
Pet peeve #3 - friends who I grow to love and then they just drop out of my life. You never write, you never call.... I loved you, didn't you love you me? Facebook has helped me reconnect with some. I suppose I'll see everyone (Christ followers anyway) in heaven someday, but that is a long time to wait and wonder whether that person ever wonders about you.
Pet peeve #4 - people who adopt a dog as part of their family, welcome the dog into the home, take family Christmas cards with the dog(s) as their "kids", then when real kids come along the dogs get banished. Kids love dogs! Dogs love kids! Dogs can be messy, but the mess can be cleaned. Let them be part of the family!
Pet peeve #5 - My inability to find a church home and Christian friends. We've been on a five year journey. We had to leave our church of sixteen years where we were "family." The events surrounding the departure, and the lack of support from some friends was such devastating that I have been wandering in the desert, in the great depression of my soul, for five years. Yes, I have had respites - the delight in my granddaughters, the joy of my son's wedding, occasional connections with the Lord at moments at different churches, and a good year before we moved from our old town at CLA. Yes, I have tried reconnecting with God - bible study, prayer, not assuming anything about my life but placing all my trust in Him. I used to dwell with God. I felt His Presence daily. Now I occasionally glimpse his glory. I know some of it may be a lesson about trusting feelings - I trusted my feelings about people and that got me in big, big trouble. I know God will be faithful to complete His work in me. However, all I want to do right now is be able to worship God in a corporate setting without so much pain. We've tried several churches down here. We actually joined one that offered impacting sermons, spirit led worship, prayer centered fellowship. However when I showed up the week after my son's wedding and realized I had not a single friend to show them to (after attending regularly for a year and 3 months) we decided it was time to look again. We're going to try going to a home group this evening at the church we're trying now.
Our church was our family, our friends were from our church. To go to church and have no connections with other people is so hard. To have no memories. To feel my way through worship songs. To have the few worship songs that I remember fill me with beautiful memories that devastate my soul because of the loss of those people in my life.
I miss God. I miss His people.
I guess that's my number one New Year's Resolution - become part of a church where we can make Christian friends.

Okay, enough sadness.
Here are ten good things:

1. Nayeli, my 2 year old granddaughter. One favorite moment from our visit at Christmas... She was eating breakfast and bit her tongue or inside lip. After being ministered to by mommy she returned her attention to breakfast. I was hovering at the end of the table, not sure if I should help Rhiannon or sit down and eat breakfast. Nayeli looked at me through sleep tangled hair with tear-filled eyes and said in a croaking voice "eat your breakfast, grandma." So I did.
2. Eliora, my almost 4-month old granddaughter. She is a mellow little snug bug. She fits on my shoulder just perfect. We hypnotize each other when I'm walking her to settle her. She smiles huge tongue filled smiles on command. I can make her laugh. She has brown eyes like me and her mommy (Nayeli has beautiful blue eyes). Her sister says "I love tiny little sister very much."
3. Calvin and Kelli, our newlyweds. It is so fun to see them together. They are relaxed, funny, enjoying each other, complementing each other. They are better together then when they were apart. I wondered sometimes during their dating times because they could get on each other's nerves and get mad at each other. I don't see much of that now. Each is appreciating what their partner does for them, and they bring joy to visitors.
4. Jason and Rhiannon. They just recently bought a house (before Eliora was born, after Calvin was married... Eliora was born one month after the wedding so yes it was a busy time). Jason has taken ownership pride in the house and has done a tremendous job landscaping the yard and fixing up things around the house. Rhiannon now loves to cook (amazing), and she is working really hard to keep them on a strict budget. They do not want to make the mistake we made of going into debt. I am proud of them. They are wonderful parents - loving, fun, active, with appropriate limits and consequences. Working through potty training with Nayeli is not the easiest thing, and neither is trying to get Eliora to sleep a few hours straight, but they are working at it and mostly keeping their sanity. They depend on God. They have great friends. They have each other. And they have their parents.
5. Marty. I've known for years that I was married to someone special. He spoiled Rhiannon for Jason - Jason should be able to build anything or fix anything, just like Daddy. Marty is a master craftsman who has supposed our family with his handiwork, made a beautiful home for us out of a basic vacation cabin on the mountaintop, and is now building his own airplane! What amazes me more about Marty, however, is his love for me. I have had some crazy periods over the past few years. He has been patient, loving, and caring. He built me a wonderful kitchen at our old house and that's one of the few things I don't like about the new house, so he keeps our kitchen here clean (he says it's easier than building a new house). I was worried because I know that God has placed a call on his life. He was studying for the ministry at our previous church and that got interrupted. However, he prays with me every night now. His faith shows in his daily walk at work, with his students, and with his fellow teachers. With both the kids married and grown we depend on each other for companionship. One of the most enjoyable things we've been doing has to do with my sixth "happy thing."
6. Marty and I are getting in shape. I've struggled with weight most of my adult life. Marty sometimes gets into a period of running to lose weight. We've rarely ever tried the same thing at the same time. We are now in synch. Between the two of us we've lost over 80 pounds since July. We walk every day (he walks twice a day with the dogs). I work out with weights. We both bought new bicycles and we love our bike rides to Apollo Park. We want to try other bike adventures like along Venice Beach. We are sleeping better, our bodies are feeling better. Our bodies fit better when we hug! I've gone from size 20/22 (depending on brand) in pants to size 16/18. We want to be able to go hiking with our grandchildren. We want to be able to fit in Marty's airplane. We want to grow old together. We want to avoid surgeries. We're doing it through a physician-assisted weight loss program with nutritionist guidance, meal plans, medicines, monthly checkups, and exercise. I have a ways to go, but I'm proud of what I've done so far!
7. I love my job. (most of the time). I made the crazy decision a couple years ago to stay with my fourth graders and keep them through fifth grade. This is call "looping" with your class. 95% of my coworkers thought I was nuts, and the other 5% thought I was a saint. I did have some tough kids, but I showed them that I loved them and we grew to trust each other. I visited some at home, gave them books, tutored them after school for free, and gave them the chance to explain themselves when they made mistake. I'll never forget these kids. They're now in sixth grade and I love seeing how well they're doing! I've now got a new crop of fourth graders, and I was just getting to the point where I felt like I was past the "getting to know you," and teaching them how to work in my class when we had 2-1/2 snow days (yes, in the desert!). It will be fun to see them next week - I've missed them. I truly feel like this is what God wants me to do right now - make an impact on some kids.
8. Sandy, Ivy, and Misty. Sandy is our newest Alaskan Malamute. She is nine months old now, and beginning to settle down a little bit. Marty took her through training classes and she was the star of the class! She bosses Ivy around, who is twice her size. Once in awhile Ivy gives it right back to her. Ivy is the stealth dog. She is 120 pounds of sweetness, mellowness, and subtlety. Sandy, however, took after Ivy's mother, Quake (no relation). She has a mouth! She's still a puppy and she's still learning. Walking the dogs twice a day gives us a lot of laughs - Sandy has been frightened by trash cans, Halloween decorations, towels blowing in the breeze, and one special killer mailbox. (This mailbox was after our family, I swear). Misty is our cat - a rescue cat from my school. She has totally insinuated herself into our hearts. She rides Marty's shoulders around the house like a parrot. She cuddles under the covers. She and Sandy chase each other up and down the slippery hallways. She snuggles with Ivy. Our pets bring us a lot of laughter.
9. Facebook. I am really enjoying using facebook to keep up with friends and family, and to get in contact with people I've been out of touch with. It's fun and takes only a couple minutes a day. I've got relatives, friends I taught with, friends from college days, and friends from my old church. Good stuff.
10. Our house and neighborhood. I never thought we'd leave the mountaintop and move to the desert but we do love it here. Marty has room to work on his airplane in the garage (and I can talk to him without taking a hike), the dogs love our grassy backyard (with lots of bushes, trees, and boulders to explore), and we love the feel of the house. I do miss what Marty built in our old house - especially the custom kitchen and my walk-in closet (I have a walk-in closet here but it's not built to my exact specs!). However, we are comfortable here, it is clean, easy to keep organized (mountaintop cabins are not much on storage), and we love walking our quiet neighborhood. We now know many neighbors, dog-walkers, and runners by sight or name. We also enjoy being 5 minutes from almost any store or kind of restaurant. We can bicycle to Von's or Walgreen's. Before it was a half-hour trip to town, and then another 45 minutes to major stores or malls. Life was quiet on the mountaintop. Life was pretty there. Life was our family together. Now life is easier here. It's easier from here to take off to visit our grown, married kids - who have scattered to the middle of the Central Valley and the southern end of the Central Coast. We can also easily drive into L.A. for plays, concerts, or special events like Knott's Berry Farm's Praise New Year's Eve. Which brings me back to, Happy New Year!
- ahf