HERE COMES THE SUN

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Today is a day I have gleefully anticipated for exactly six months: the summer solstice. Today, June 21st, 2026, is the first day of summer. It is the day when the earth’s tilt toward the sun is at its maximum, providing us Earthlings with the most sunlight in one day we will have in the calendar year.

It is also Father’s Day, a day set aside to honor the dads in our families. Both occasions deserve our attention.

It is also harvest season, but the farmers haven’t been able to get into the wheat fields much because of the rain. This picture of our Dad was taken during harvest, when meals are brought field to keep the farmers going strong in the field to get the work done, because Mother Nature never grants them good weather, so they take advantage of what they have.

Gail’s son doesn’t seem too happy to be hanging out with Grandpa…

Mother Nature hasn’t been too happy lately. Almost two weeks ago, she shredded trees and power lines in our small city with 113 mph winds, leaving my house without electricity for about 18 hours, but Suzanne was without juice for an even 100 hours. Last night, she (Mother Nature, not Suzanne!) unleashed her fury on Gail’s small town with tornadic winds. As I write, Gail is headed home west on 1-70 from a weekend with her son–the son in the picture above who is now 27–and she is facing more storms on the way, with little or no worry–as usual.

Two of our three boys and their families were able to celebrate with us today for Father’s Day. Next year, there will be two more baby boys in the picture, both due to arrive around Halloween. We are thrilled.

For today, though, I am relishing the extra minute or so of daylight on this, the longest day of the year. It won’t seem any darker tomorrow, but in my mind it will, because I know the days are getting shorter. This, I realize, is pure self-imposed madness, but it’s how I roll. It may even be cloudy again this evening, so it won’t seem any lighter any longer today, but it will in my mind.

Go ahead, call me crazy. I need to work on savoring every moment of daylight and every moment of dark too, because, like Mother Nature’s good harvest weather grace, none of it is granted. Just like age, every day is a gift. Albeit, a gift that keeps on taking, as evidenced by the picture below, back in the day when I still had eyebrows.

Dad and me at our brother’s wedding, October 1991. Happy Heavenly Father’s Day, Dad.

Enjoy the sun, but savor the dark, too. I will be outside as long as I can stay awake tonight, savoring the moments. If you are out there too, send me your summer solstice good vibes, and I will send you mine. And speaking of good vibes, don’t forget, Life is good. Light or dark, sun or clouds, day or night.

My neighbor Sue knows I like Life is good shirts, so she gave me this one for my recent 60th birthday. It is the perfect shirt for today.

Happy Summer Solstice, and Happy Father’s Day to all dads reading this. If your dad is in Heaven like ours, the sisters of The Sister Lode are sending you extra light for today, perhaps even a few more minutes past what everyone else gets. We get it.

This post is dedicated to my friend Barb, who savors the summer solstice as much as I do.

IN MEMORY OF

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Monday, May 25th, 2026, is Memorial Day in America. It is the national holiday set aside to remember those we loved and lost, and to pay tribute to the veterans who have passed who bravely served our country. It is a solemn celebration, as most memorials are.

However, Americans also observe it in a festive way as the official beginning of the summer season, even though the calendar says it won’t be summer for another four weeks. We don’t care, we need our reasons to celebrate. As a country, I’d say we are pretty good at that. Then, just two weeks after the calendar says it’s summer, we will celebrate our country’s birthday on July 4th. This year is big; America is turning 250 years old. The “semiquincentennial,” as it is officially called. Being the word nerd I am, I am thrilled to learn this new word and I will use it frequently to add to the festive nature of this time of year. You’re welcome.

If, as we do for this holiday, we could find a way to create fun and joy when life brings us sadness, then I say that’s a good thing. Some occasions are purely joyous, like the two recent weekends we spent with Gail and her family in her small western Kansas town.

At the end of April, Suzanne and I headed west to celebrate with Gail and her daughter Lydia, who is getting married this fall. It was a splendid bridal shower for a beautiful young woman with a bright future ahead.

Last weekend, I soldiered west without Suzanne back to Gail’s house, she wasn’t able to join me for their small town’s annual “Rod Run,” a classic car show showcasing all models of vintage and unique vehicles. Gail kept me busy as a “Thirst Responder” on the patio of the bar/grill she manages, as she and other family and friends served up a delicious meal. I didn’t get any pictures of her in action, it seems she was running around in a blur all day so a picture was not possible. If you know Gail, you get it.

The car show is an annual hit, right down to the race late Saturday afternoon.

Remembering those we loved and lost is something most of us do nearly every day, not just on Memorial Day. Moving on after loss is not an easy task; grief is the price we pay for love. I don’t know anyone who has loved and lost who feels the grief is not worth the love, they wouldn’t have missed the gift of loving that person despite the grief.

I turned 60 last month. I would say 60 years old, but old is a state of mind. So is young. They are just words, words not nearly as impressive as “semiquincentennial.” The trick is to not think about the number and keep living life to its fullest.

“Always have something to look forward to.” That is a piece of advice from Mom that I keep in mind and try to follow. Next weekend I will travel to Kansas City to celebrate the 60th birthday of a friend since kindergarten. Gail, Suzanne and I are scheming another summer trip, not sure what yet, but it will be fun, no doubt. I am holding these future adventures close in mind to see me through any rough spots.

Memorial Day is a sacred day to honor the veterans we loved and lost. Even if we didn’t know them, they deserve our honor for serving our country. My father-in-law passed several years ago, and he was a Korean War Veteran.

Thank you for your service, Marvin.

My hope and prayer for each of you is that your loved ones are with you, either in person or in spirit, or both. If they have passed, remember the love. Pay the price of love with your grief. Honor them by living your life to the fullest. Remember all the joy they brought you and the world. Remember none of us get out of here alive, so live every moment. Reconnect with those you need to see again. Forgive. Laugh. Find some joy in each day. As Mom said, always have something to look forward to. Find even a bit of joy in sadness. Your legacy will one day live on in other’s memories and in stone, so make it a good one.

We celebrated our parents with a beer and a burger at our hometown’s annual festival. We try to find the joy in sadness, even though it’s not always easy. We even put the ‘fun’ in funeral. If anyone can do it, we can. And if you need to, we hope you can, too.

181 YEARS OF WISDOM

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I am so excited to make this announcement: I will be 60 next week!

Age is truly a gift, and I am not one to miss out on gifts and celebrations. I am celebrating before, during and after, and my hope is that if you are not doing the same on your birthday, you will start.

Collectively, then, Gail, Suzanne and I have 181 years of living shared between us, and that makes for many opportunities to gather wisdom. So, that is just what we have done for you.

Yes, age can bring us down with its accompanying aches and pains, afflictions and maladies, but none of us are willing to go back to any previous age–aging is that good.

So, no matter your age, embrace it, share your wisdom and please accept ours. I’ll go first:

*Spring always springs, indicating that I survived yet another winter, my least favorite season. The best birthday gift I get every year is from Mother Nature herself, she makes sure the green leaves are hung in time for my big day. Summer, my favorite season does always end, and I survive until the next one. Complaining doesn’t help. Gail and Suzanne embrace the weather whatever it is, and I am trying to learn from them.

*Speaking of summer, bananas always rot faster in the summer. And speaking of fruit, if you leave a half-eaten apple in your car (except during the summer), you can finish eating it the next day and you won’t die. Suzanne thinks it’s gross, but I am living proof. I refuse to waste food.

*And speaking of your gut, listen to it and go with it, even if you can’t explain why.

*I’m sorry are two of the most beautiful words in our language when used together.

*Our language is so strange. We talk about a sunny day and a starry night, but never a moony night. No matter what kind of night it is, sleep is underrated by most people. Not me. Make sure you get enough, even if Gail doesn’t.

*Turns out that new pair of shoes won’t bring lifelong fulfillment.

*We never know why people might act the way they do. Perhaps their parents just died and we don’t know that.

*Just because someone is upset with you doesn’t mean you did something wrong.

*Because we’ve always done it that way is a pretty good reason to consider doing it a different way.

*You can make more money, but you can’t make more time. The corollary to that, courtesy of Suzanne, is this: All that stuff used to be money and all that money used to be time. Ka-pow between the eyes on that one—thanks, Suzanne!

*Fly your weird flag if you have one. Nobody else is uniquely you.

*Find that thing that makes your soul sing and do it. A good gauge is if you lose track of time doing it, then it’s probably your thing.

*Life can be really sucky sometimes, but it is mostly good if you keep you feelers out for the good.

*If you have your health, or enough of it to enjoy life, you have been given a gift. Open it every day.

*If you have the desire, your health as mentioned above, the time and the money, go to those places you want to travel to. You may not be able to later.

*Loved ones die, but love remains. Lean on others to get through. That’s how we did it.

*Most of the things we worry about never happen. Prayer and worry cancel each other out, so choose prayer.

*Fair comes once a year and it’s already come and gone. It’s where you get cotton candy and ride the rides. Life’s not fair, so suck it up and move on.

*Good or bad, what you focus on increases.

*It’s okay to jump on the bed in your hotel room when you are traveling with your sisters.

Suzanne now offers her succinct wisdom:

*To share some excellent advice from our infinitely wise mother, when you’re having trouble deciding if you should do something, imagine you did it and how do you feel? Or, imagine you didn’t do it and how do you feel? I’m not saying I was ever smart enough to follow this until my later years, but it’s a great idea.

*No matter how much you want your parents to NOT be right, they usually are.

Here’s Gail:

*If you are wrong, admit it. Then people have nothing to hold against you. Take the high road.

*Stress only happens if you let it.

*Always have something to look forward to–thanks Mom!

*Do your own thing. In response to, “My friends get to do X, why can’t I?” Mom used to say, “If everyone else was jumping off a cliff, would you?”

*Never switch drivers while driving down the road.

*Don’t stay out too late. If you do, don’t get caught. I learned this from being grounded several times.

*Take time for yourself and do what YOU want to do.

*If you like coffee, drink plenty of it.

*Spread good energy. It just might make someone’s day!

*Don’t let your age define you.

*Who says you have to retire?

Happy Birthday to me!

Happy Birthday to you, whenever it is!

9494 ON THE FOURTH

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You might think that if you had traveled to the same place several dozen times, that it may become a bit routine, perhaps even boring.

Not so when we travel to Cripple Creek, Colorado. The mountains keep calling and we keep going.

Suzanne wasn’t able to join us this time, so Gail and I forged on without her to this beautiful mountainous haven. It is never the same without her, but she had our blessing so westward we went.

Gail and I arrived late afternoon on Wednesday, March 4th. Once again, we Marched Forth to honor our parents. We wanted to be Closer to Heaven, and going to our mountain mecca once again was how we did just that this year. They are with us every day, but at this higher elevation, we’ve convinced ourselves we are a little bit closer to them. Either way, it’s a good reason to come here.

Cripple Creek sits at an elevation of 9494 feet, tucked in a cozy valley behind Pike’s Peak.

Cripple Creek, Colorado is a historic gold mining-turned-gambling town, the place where the idea for this blog was born. The mother lode, in gold mining terms, means to hit the main vein, the jackpot. Thus, The Sister Lode seemed the perfect title; we hit the jackpot by being born into the same family as sisters. We know how lucky we are.

Speaking of lucky, it seems Gail is always the lucky one at the slot machines.

Mysteriously though, she says, it always seems to disappear as easily as it appeared.

We arrived late afternoon on the fourth, and woke up on the fifth to a beautiful, sunny and relatively warm morning, followed by a mild, sunny day. Overnight, however, a snowstorm moved in as predicted, and dumped about seven inches of snow–as predicted.

It was a beautiful, snowy morning and we got to live our dream of being snowed in in the mountains. Of course, we weren’t leaving for two more days, so we weren’t stranded, and several cars did plow through the winding mountain roads to get their Cripple Creek fix, but we only plowed through a few snowy streets to get downtown to the action.

The purple mountain majesty returned the next day with the sunshine, and the snow began to melt.

**********

It’s never the same without Suzanne. Quieter, not her unique brand of humor. Our hosts at the Hospitality House–our home away from home–always have our favorite room ready, no matter how many of us come.

I brought Bonnie and Judy along, they like to travel with Gail and me. I found them at a garage sale several years ago, and if you look close and use your imagination, you can see a younger version of Gail and me in their faces. According to the garage sale host, they were sisters. I wish there had been a third sister.

In her usual social style, Gail met up with old friends here, and always makes a few new friends at the blackjack table. She’s good at that, and if you know her, no surprise.

One of my favorite activities while she is socializing is to hang out here in this beautiful place, reading, puzzling, napping and writing. I can always settle in to a cozy feeling here, and I need more of that than Gail does. I wish I needed less sleep like she does, and could be as lucky as she is on slots, but alas, we are different like that.

Eighteen years have passed since our parents died and it hardly seems possible. Time moves so fast, and the older we get, the faster it goes. Gail and I had three full days here and I am typing on the afternoon of our last full day. Seems like we just arrived. Seems like my sons were just kids and now they have their own kids. It’s 2026 already and I am going to be 60 next month. If we could just harness time and slow it down, surely we could enjoy it more, couldn’t we?

Or maybe we wouldn’t want to slow it down. Perhaps the best thing to do is live every moment to its fullest, take advantage of the time we have and look back at the end of each day with a sense of gratitude for that one more day, because tomorrow will be one less day.

I lost a dear friend last week. She was 102 and lived a most amazing life. When I visited her, she loved to hear about my travels. “If you have the time and the means, you need to travel and have as much fun as you can.” I hold this advice near and dear, because she knew better than any of us–unless you are 102 or older–how fast time flies.

And, if I remember right, she always told me to buy myself something on the trip. So, to honor her, I did.

*************

Our ritual of singing along with John Denver to Rocky Mountain High on the last stretch of mountainous road was fulfilled once again. And, Gail always has to give the Wheel of Fortune machine a spin. She walked away with a little cash, which she normally does.

We made our usual pit stop in Limon as well. Clearly, I’m not as nimble as I used to be.

Speaking of time passing quickly, we will hit the road Sunday morning and lose an hour due to the time zone difference, and we will lose another hour overnight with Daylight Savings Time. That timing is due to the Wheel of Misfortune, for sure.

If you have the time and means, get out there and have some fun. Our happy place is right here. If you like to travel and wherever yours is, by all means, we recommend going there as soon as you can.

One of our earlier trips, this one was dated 2017

S.B. CHAMPS

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(words with an asterisk* were the words we were given in the spelling bee, the other italicized words were given to other teams.)

At the risk of sounding narcissistic* or ostentatious, we did win the Neighbor-to-Neighbor spelling bee in Abilene last night (again). Seems to be the weekend for S.B. championships.

I strategically scheduled this post to be live at exactly 4:30 p.m. CST, an hour earlier the Super Bowl kickoff. Super Bowl/Spelling Bee, they are both highly important competitions and I don’t want one to overshadow the other.

The labyrinthine path we took to get there was a challenge at times, but we proved (once again) to be spelling aficionados. There were no belligerent epithets from the other contestants, just a spirit of ebullience and goodwill among the teams. There were only six teams this year, which made it a much smaller gathering than previous years.

We were all old enough to remember the famous outbreak of Legionnaire’s Disease in Philadelphia in 1976, but we were forced to use one of our two mulligans when none of us could remember the correct spelling of legionnaire*. Coincidentally, 1976 was the year my precocity* with spelling surfaced, when I placed second in the Mitchell County (Kansas) spelling bee at ten years of age in the fourth grade. Despite four more years of chances, I did participate in the county bee each year, but never placed again to earn a trip to the state bee in Topeka.

Clearly, I never got over it.

Gail’s nephew was our guest. “Father Kade” as he is known to his parishioners and everyone else, is her husband’s late brother’s son, and he joined us at the Catholic parish hall for the evening. (Full disclosure, when I typed ‘parishioner’ above, I was alerted to a misspelling with the red line under it. Apparently, I wasn’t aware of the second ‘i.’ Good thing that wasn’t one of our words.)

Perhaps there was a scintilla* of divine favor with his presence at our table, but we like to think we would have pulled off the victory either way. He was indeed a delightfully divine guest.

As the evening progressed toward the twelfth and final round and the other teams acquiesced* to defeat, we realized we had quite the repertoire* of correct spellings, as we were able to complete the final round with no further mistakes. Any further misspellings would have been egregious and abhorrent* to us, which, coincidentally, was our winning word.

My neighbor Jordan wasn’t able to join us this year, but she was there in spirit. Gail, with her perpetual spirit of fun and generosity, brought table decorations and goodies for everyone. Slap bracelets, stickers, pens and other party favors were a hit among the whole crowd.

My raffle ticket matched the winning number drawn for the basket of yoga goodies, apropos of my love for the practice.

We claimed the title and posed for our photograph. We like to think we pulled it off with panache. Perhaps next year we should consider wearing our matching muumuus*, but our T-shirts are an annual hit.

The night wrapped up early and because there were no taquerias*, discotheques or bodegas open locally, we opted for a late dinner at a local restaurant. Father Kade was our guest for dinner as well.

We will be back in Abilene next year for another spelling bee rendezvous, and may your team win the S.B. today.

THE CRUCIBLE OF JANUARY

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Perhaps it is the interminable cold. Or the flu-colds-sinus crap-vomiting-and-every-other-bug going around after the holidays. Or maybe it is just the after-the holiday-letdown, or maybe it’s all three. Whatever it is, it is my least favorite month of the year. January definitely fits #2 above.

This year, however, I decided to take a new approach. I armed myself with information, inspiration and imagination. I started by reading books about how the experts do it. As in, the experts who live in the coldest part of the world and seem to enjoy it. In that process, I came upon a new favorite word:

Pronounced “hugh-ga,” or “hoo-ga,” it has been my mantra for the winter. If the Danish and Scandinavians can do it, then I should at least try. So I have been, but with limited success. Better than last year perhaps, but I’m still fighting it all the way.

Suzanne and I are puzzlers, Gail is not. Suzanne has graciously shared one of her Christmas gifts with me when she finished it, not even knowing it was my new favorite word.

I have bought a few new clothes this winter (of course), and the first requirement is that they have to be cozy. I have purged some other clothes that were not cozy and comfortable, realizing they are not worth the scratching, irritation and ill-fit they posed for me.

It’s all about cozy comfort for me. I do realize that this time of year is glorious for some people. I have a dear friend who loves the cold and winter. Gail and Suzanne enjoy it more than I do, but not as much as they enjoy the wind. I even gave birth to someone who loves it, so I do respect those differences, I just don’t understand them.

Gail’s sentiment is this: “Cold Pffft!! You can dress to keep warm, but you can’t undress to keep cool.”

As I type this on the last day of January, I continue to realize that here in the middle of Kansas, we don’t really have it so bad. Gail’s daughter in northern Michigan sent me this picture:

She reported 110 inches for the winter so far.

Much of the eastern United States has been hammered with severe, even life-threatening winter weather. It could be so much worse. Still, I complain. The snow is gorgeous as it falls, and even as it settles, but now we are in the ugly, gray and dirty phase of the snowfall. However, it was a beautiful sight last Sunday morning:

At least there was no wind. Gail and Suzanne would have loved that, not me.

If you are looking for some winter reading to get you through until spring, I highly recommend these titles:

Leibowitz, K.2025, How to Winter: Harness Your Mindset to Thrive on Cold, Dark, or Difficult Days. Bluebird.

Wiking, M. 2017. The Little Book of Hygge: Danish Secrets to Happy Living. Harper Collins.

May, K. 2020 Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times. Riverhead Books.

There are a few highlights in January, however. Our dear Mom’s birthday was in January, and now my dear daughter-in-law celebrates hers on the same day with us. And, of course, our home state of Kansas celebrates its birthday on January 29th. This year it was 165 years old. I do my best to commemorate this special day in my fullest regalia. (Please note the sunflower earrings as well.)

The most exciting thing about January, I think, is looking forward to the end of it. February arrives, and I feel a sense of relief, a weight lifting. Thirty years ago on February first, Suzanne felt a great relief when she gave birth to her only child. In her words, Suzanne offered this: “As for living through January, I spent two weeks of January 1996 in the hospital. It was the last time I’ve been caught up on sleep, but I really don’t recommend it.” Happy Birthday Julia!

Cardinal sightings are always a special treat, and they seem to show up in the most brutal cold and snow of January. My daughter-in-law Olivia, Mom’s birthday buddy, shared this from the video on her backyard birdfeeder:

Plus, for the last few years, “The Beekeepers” of The Sister Lode have participated in, and highly anticipate the annual Neighbor to Neighbor Spelling Bee in Abilene in early February. Along with my neighbor Jordan, we will be back again next Saturday to attempt to regain the crown we gave up last year. Jordan gave birth to her twins shortly after last year’s bee, and she will join us again this year.

And how can we forget the thrill of Groundhog Day on February 2nd? That is a day to anticipate as well.

With a mere 28 days, February seems easier to survive, knowing spring will soon follow. I find myself wishing every January away, even though I know that even the worst days are a gift.

This Facebook meme stopped me in my tracks, it is profound:

We should also consider “one more January” as “one less January,” even if it is a crucible. Every day is a gift, no matter what the weather. Even if January feels like it is 6,184 days long.

Bilston, B. 2022. Days Like These: An Alternative Guide to the Year in 366 Poems. Picador.

HAPPY FEBRUARY FROM THE SISTER LODE!

SANTAS OF SOUTH SIXTH

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If I were to take a three and one-half hour trip on December 23rd, then turn around and come home on the morning of December 24th–Christmas Eve, it would have to be for a very good reason. For example, like Gail’s annual Santas of South Sixth Christmas celebration in Atwood, her small town in western Kansas.

Suzanne and I left our small city Tuesday morning and headed west for that very reason. This was Gail’s seventh annual Santas of South Sixth, a tremendous offering of goodwill, mirth, conviviality and community. It was Gail’s idea, inspired by The Georgetown Santas, a larger scale, three-night event in our small city of Salina, Kansas. Suzanne and her husband joined in the fun last year and she knew how much fun it would be. We told Gail we would come if the weather permitted.

The weather did indeed permit, reaching an unseasonably warm 65 degrees that afternoon and cooling down to a mild 45 degrees at 7:00 when the fun officially began.

But it began hours before that for all of us present at Gail’s house. Suzanne and I arrived mid-afternoon, and the preparations had already begun. Her house was buzzing with excitement and preparation, with three of her four children present.

Gail’s daughter Kate, came from Wichita with her family

Her son came from Kansas City for the holiday, but his girlfriend’s parents drove all the way from Kansas City, Missouri for just one day to partake of this glee. So, Suzanne and I didn’t get the prize for traveling the farthest. They, too, knew it was worth a long trip down I-70.

Gail lives on the outermost southeast corner of her small town at the top of a hill. That portion of South Sixth, is a short two-block strip, with about ten houses lining the sides. Most of the neighbors were eager to participate as well, and it went like this: the festive joiners would cruise slowly down the hill that is South Sixth street–staying in their vehicles– and the residents would line up on either side, passing out edible treats and small treasures for young and old and everyone in between.

She posted it on the SOSS group on Facebook and it spread by word of mouth as well. In a town this small–approximately 1300 people, it doesn’t take long for news like this to spread. At 6:15, I looked out over her back patio wall to see the cars lining up already, waiting to round the corner, waiting for the fun to begin.

At promptly 7 pm, the neighbors at the top of the hill on the other side of the street stepped out with their treasures and the fun officially began.

Gail had an array of goodies to share, especially the adult libations: holiday jello shots. She had holiday glow-sticks and slap bracelets for the kids, which were as colorful as the shots.

I was appointed the unofficial reporter/photographer, so I rounded the corner several times to check the lineup. For much of the two-hour event, it reached down the hill to the highway, almost half a mile.

Perhaps they were already in town for the holidays, but we will assume these out-of-state vehicles came just for the fun. In which case, the last car pictured would receive the award for traveling the farthest.

The Griswolds were there, too, as well as The Grinch.

Gail had 90 bags of homemade goodies prepared, and exactly all of them were given out, down to the last car. It was as if she knew. Most cars had three or more people in them, so we are estimating at least 400 people came through. The kids in this van had it figured out–opening the door open made it easier to score the goodies.

Someone even came through on their gator.

The view from Gail’s driveway

When it was all over, the Santas (and elves like us) of South Sixth Street gathered for a group photo, then gathered to share cheer among ourselves.

The trip was a quick one, and the fun evening flew by too quickly. Suzanne and I had to hit the road early on the 24th, but it was worth every minute of the seven hours of road time.

I had to work that afternoon, so I decided to share the cheer with my speech therapy patients.

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In case you hadn’t noticed from earlier posts, the spirit of Christmas lives year-round in Gail. Her house faces east at the top of the hill and every night, she can look up outside her door and see this sight on top of the hill to the east:

No matter where any of us are, or what we do to celebrate Christmas, we should all remember to look up every day of the year.

*********************************************

Merry Christmas a little late from the sisters of The Sister Lode and best wishes for a wonderful New Year.

LOLA, JOHN AND THE SISTER LODE

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Every day should be celebrated as Thanksgiving. And Christmas. And Independence Day, maybe even Groundhog Day. Quite simply, every day should be a celebration.

With Gail, as you may have deduced by now, every day is a celebration.

After two years at her daughter’s house in Wichita, scheduling conflicts determined that Thanksgiving would be held once again at Gail’s house, as they had for many years prior. It matters not where we gather, just that we do gather with family.

Over the interstate and through the cold, to Gail’s house we did go. The weather kept some loved ones back, but they were with us in spirit. I rode with Suzanne and her husband, making the journey almost as much fun as the celebration. On the way, we stopped to partake of Black Friday shopping in Hays, Kansas, which was a new experience for me. After spending six of the best years of my life there in college, it is always a nostalgic trip back. The town is bigger now, but the mall is smaller–in my mind. It seems those places can shrink with age. Perhaps a mall of any size to a starry-eyed college student from a town of 300, was a behemoth. I don’t normally do the Black Friday thing except online, which we had fun doing in the car, as our favorite puzzle maker had a sale that couldn’t be missed. We should both be set for some time with puzzles after that order. We were good girls this year, Santa would see it the same way so we just did a little of his work.

Arriving in Atwood at Gail’s house in late afternoon left us a little time before we had to load up and head downtown to the annual Christmas parade. We couldn’t be late, we were part of the lineup. Spectating at a parade is its own thrill, but riding in the back of Lola–Gail’s 1974 Chevrolet Nova she bought for herself as a 60th birthday gift almost six years ago–with my sisters Gail and Suzanne, and John, the son of the original owner (Lola) at the wheel, was a new thrill for me. I think we enjoyed it more than the kids who picked up the candy we threw out. Suzanne’s husband got to ride shotgun.

Gail’s stepson, Tyler, was an elf extraordinaire.

The small-town spirit of Christmas was felt in full force; an energy that cannot be duplicated by anything else.

Saturday morning brought the anticipation of the feast, with the preparation being another kind of unique energy. Everyone brings something, and the big stuff is created in Gail’s kitchen.

Gail’s dressing—Mom’s recipe–is second to none, but we all had a hand in making it.

Every year, a secret ingredient is added, leaving the guests to try to figure out what it is this year. No one guessed the acini de pepe pasta that was left over from the salad; it baked in quite nicely.

The feast was the usual fare, but there is never anything usual about our gatherings, especially at Gail’s house. There were prizes drawn for those who remembered to bring their personalized, laminated “Turkey Club” cards issued years ago, but in the end, everyone got a prize. Gail is generous like that. Our choices ranged from her homemade salsa, canned zucchini relish, Pampered Chef utensils (from one of her several side gigs), an Amazon gift card, summer sausage and a few other goodies. Gail does nothing halfway, especially when it comes to giving.

When a decoration was noted to be broken as she took it out of the box this year, she added the accessory to make it a story of its own. She had to order a box of four from Amazon, so, if for some reason you need a small accessory such as this one, she has three left. Let us know.

Bonus points for finding it in five seconds or less.

We dined, dined some more, had dessert, talked, laughed, reminisced and knew we had to make it back over the interstate and through the cold to get home, so we wrapped it up and bid adieu until next time. The 3.25 hour trip was a breeze being chauffeured by Suzanne’s husband, as well as the good company they provided. Thousands of other travelers lit up Interstate 70, adding to the holiday spirit on Thanksgiving Saturday, one of the top road travel days of the year.

I listened to a podcast this morning about gratitude. Not just the surface stuff, but the nitty gritty, small things that comprise most of our days. We all know there is so much sadness in the world and in many of our own lives, so finding the smallest of things to be thankful for can truly make all the difference.

Today, for example, I noticed the jade plant I just repotted is sprouting a new leaf, when I thought perhaps I had killed it in the move. I was grateful. One of my favorite comedians has a new show out. I found another book I was looking for in the thrift store in Hays. I am first on the cancellation list at my dentist’s office to get the root canal I need to fix my tooth earlier than my appointment on Thursday.

Sometimes it takes a little digging, but there are always small things that we can give big thanks for.

We found this picture from Thanksgiving 2008 at Gail’s house. It was the first Thanksgiving after our parents died, and I was taken back to the bittersweet gratitude we all felt that day. We have come so far.

I am so thankful for my sisters, and we are so thankful for you, dear readers.

LESS IS MORE, MORE IS LESS

/ middlesisterkathleen / Leave a comment

I woke up from a glorious Sunday afternoon nap a bit ago, knowing that it has been far too long since I checked in with all you dear readers. I had an idea in mind for a blog, but decided to send a text to Gail and Suzanne first to see if their ideas might be better than mine.

At almost the precise second I sent it, Suzanne sent this picture to me in a text, stating the obvious: “Isn’t this already a mess?”

That was my sign to proceed with the post idea that has been rolling around in my mind for two months: the garage sale Gail and I had at her daughter’s house.

On September 18th, 19th and 20th, I went to Gail’s house in Atwood, Kansas, to partake of the annual Highway 36 Kansas Treasure Hunt, whereby the cities all along U.S. Highway 36 hosted garage sales for the entire weekend.

Treasure hunters from Kansas and all surrounding states flock to this mecca, so I wanted to give it a shot myself. Suzanne wasn’t able to join us, but she did send some stuff along with me. I’m not sure where she found stuff she could let go of, because she already subsists with so little, but she did manage to find an armful of stuff I took along. I think I brought back $16 for her, which is $16 she didn’t have before, so that was a win for her. I came home with $114 in my pocket, and I’m pretty sure Gail at least tripled that amount.

Better than that, though, was the fact that I got rid of a lot of stuff. Stuff that is perhaps living a new, more exciting life in someone else’s home. Now, to the unaided eye–like my husband’s, it is not obvious that I did indeed let some things go, but I guess that’s the most important place to start. And, important also is the fact that while there were multiple other garage sales going on in Atwood, and I stopped at most of them, I didn’t bring anything back from them. I did, however, bring a few of Gail’s goodies home with me, but I beg to differ that those don’t count since she is my sister, and they are mementos of her.

For many years (several decades?), I have stared at the large totes in the storage room in my basement that I knew were loaded with old cards, letters and other papers. I’ll deal with those when I get old, I would tell myself. Apparently, I have decided that I am old, because I am dealing with them now.

This is my pool table in the basement, next to the storage room. I am perusing, sorting and enjoying most of the written treasures I am finding. Most are going into the recycle/shred pile, but I have found some keepsakes in written form from as far back as college (40-plus years). Letters from friends, pictures and cards are being sorted to share back with their original givers, some which I already have. It is a great walk down memory lane, and sure to bring a few laughs. These piles are for various people, as well as the shred/recycle piles.

It feels good to wrap this task up, and to hold on to a few that bring back warm memories. Our mom’s beautiful handwriting is a treasure always, and I have several from her I am holding dear.

Back to Gail. An antique collector/shop owner from eastern Colorado rolled up to Gail’s with her husband and a trailer, and found a few goodies of Gail’s she couldn’t resist.

“If you like that,” Gail said, “I’ve got more like them at my house, and probably some other things you would like.” So, since it was the end of the day and only four blocks over, Gail took Rebecca and her husband to her house, and parted with a considerable pile of antiques Rebecca wanted. In short order, Gail had them on her back patio with a cold beer, because that’s how Gail rolls.

Several weeks ago, I stopped at a thrift store, knowing there were treasures in there for me. There were several really good ones, as well as one with Suzanne’s name all over it: a t-shirt from our beloved Cripple Creek, Colorado. Her size, her style. I was so excited to give it to her; I knew she was home so I stopped by. I showed her my goodies–including a Jim Shore piece, something we are always on the lookout for, then presented her with her shirt. She laughed. Not just a laugh, but a full-on howl, with her head thrown back and all.

“I donated that! she said. I should have known.

In my ongoing quest to at least try to get rid of stuff, I find some particular challenges: books, knick-knacks and jewelry, not to mention clothes. (Isn’t that pretty much everything?) Books, for me, represent a place I visited, another world I was fortunate to explore. I put them on a shelf or a stack in view, because just seeing them reminds me of that journey. If it wasn’t a memorable one, I will pass it on.

Speaking of journeys, when I take an actual trip, I like to buy a piece of jewelry (and probably a coffee cup, maybe a shirt) to commemorate the trip. These things, and they are just “things,” remind me of the fun I had, which helps to keep that good memory alive. And that’s worth it to me. That doesn’t solve the “stuff” problem, but if it brings me joy, then so be it.

I went to a terrific garage sale yesterday and closed out the end of the season. Of course, this too negates the “getting rid of stuff” plan, but I am happy to give life to those things that beckon me when someone else is casting them off. I did come home and put a few things in the “out” box…I swear I did!

In the hundreds of homes I have been in during my home health therapy career, and the short-term gig when I helped with online estate sales, I am continuously reminded that too much stuff is not good for anyone. Our parents moved off the farm in 2000, taking with them only the essentials to their new home in town. Eight years later, this was such a gift to us when we were left with their house to empty. When our times come, Suzanne’s family will have a much easier task than Gail’s and mine in the getting rid of stuff chore. And I know it is a chore.

As the talented (and sexy) country star George Strait sings, “I ain’t never seen a hearse with a luggage rack.” We all know we can’t take it with us. Most of us–except Suzanne–have a lot of work to do while we are still here.

I dug up some old garage sale pictures from blogs past. Suzanne and I are attempting to ride a hoverboard.

SUITABLE FOR FRAMING

/ middlesisterkathleen / Leave a comment

I have traveled to the mountains of Colorado scores of times, but I will always wonder: Could I ever get tired of seeing this beauty? I don’t think I will.

To post pictures seems too mundane, almost a sacrilegious attempt to share this wonder of the natural world. Most readers have seen it themselves, and we all know pictures do the mountains no justice. Yet, that is what I am about to do. Again.

First, it is most important to state that this was a sister trip, but with only one of my sisters. Suzanne had just been to the Balloon Festival in Colorado Springs a few weeks ago, so she stayed back and trusted Gail and me to make it on our own again. We did, but it is never the same without her.

Alas, we soldiered on, but kept her in our thoughts, making sure she got a souvenir that matched ours.

By the way, the Hospitality House is, hands down, the best place to stay in Cripple Creek, should you need our recommendations.

We got a close-up view of the gold mining excavation process,

and took a train trip deeper into the mountains, beholding even more splendor:

We visited a local art installation by the world renowned artist and activist Thomas Dambo. Rita the Rock Planter is but one of the 62 troll sculptures made of recycled materials and local resources this Danish artist has created worldwide, in his valiant effort to increase awareness of our endangered natural resources.

We visited friends we have made in our 20-plus travels there, and Gail even came out of her shell a bit and made more new friends at the blackjack tables.

Judy and Bonnie came along, as they do when Gail and I travel together. They are two sisters I found at a garage sale who bear an uncanny resemblance to Gail and me in our younger years…and the proprietors are certain to welcome us with our framed picture waiting in our room upon our arrival. They are the best!

We dined well and relaxed well, but mostly enjoyed the splendor of the surroundings and each other’s company.

Local law enforcement posts warned motorists to use increased caution on the roads, as leaf peepers were out in full force, traveling into the higher elevations to see the golden aspens as they were showing off their autumn yellow. We just happened to plan our trip on what was likely the best weekend to take our own peeps at those golden leaves.

The trip home is always longer than the trip out, but it is always good to be back in Kansas.

Our home state has it’s own beauty we must never consider lesser than Colorado’s mountains, only different in its equal splendor. I challenge anyone in the mountains to find a sunrise or sunset like what we enjoy here.

Wherever you are in the world, I challenge you to find the beauty in nature all around you. In some form or another, it’s always there. And if you have a sister/sisters, take them along!

One of our earliest recorded trips to the Hospitality House together.