gratitude

LOLA, JOHN AND THE SISTER LODE

/ middlesisterkathleen / 1 Comment

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.

GRATITUDE

/ middlesisterkathleen / 2 Comments

I love Thanksgiving. Except when it’s over, and I go back to my old ways of not celebrating Thanksgiving every day, like I should.

Because we all should make every day Thanksgiving.

I am so grateful for my sisters. I hope every post in this blog spells that out clearly. I don’t know where I would be, or what I would do without them. I pray I never have to find out. At least, not for a long time.

We had the opportunity to gather once again for Thanksgiving. Our annual tradition for many years was to meet at Gail’s house the Saturday after, but now we have moved it to her daughter’s house. It is the same fun celebration, just a different setting. Our new annual Thanksgiving picture at the bottom of the series above is in our new spot in front of her daughter’s fireplace. May there be many more.

We gathered three days ago as well for our uncle’s funeral in Wichita. It was a beautiful tribute to a long and incredible life, and we were sure to make it an occasion to celebrate. There was a time to mourn, and we observed that as well. But, being the social and fun-loving sisters we are, we tried to bring laughter and smiles as well. As we exited the funeral home, we thanked the three funeral directors for their help, services and kindness, and offered them our services as well: “We put the ‘fun’ in funeral,” we told them. If they needed us to liven up any future memorials, we were the ones to call. They laughed and thanked us for our offer.

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I try to do it every day, some days I miss it. I have no excuse, and it throws my day off if I don’t. I should do it more than once each day, but I call it good with once and try to remember what I wrote.

I keep a gratitude journal. Each entry–hopefully daily, as I said–has to list three new things I have never before written. Some days they come easy, other days I have to stare at the wall and dig deep to find even one thing to write. If, however, I sit for a bit, something always comes to me. I may have to use my imagination, but it always comes. Sometimes I have to turn a negative thing into a positive thing when I’d much rather wallow in the negativity, but this adjustment in my perspective always pays off.

I dug back in several old journals to come up with some examples:

*only one cavity at my dental checkup

*finding leftovers in the freezer

*having running water again after a water main break

*I narrowly missed hitting a deer

*the smell of split pea soup in the crock pot, even though my son says it smells like sadness

*windows that keep the north wind out–not always the case in the farmhouse we grew up in

You get the idea. Of course, Gail and Suzanne probably enjoyed the winter wind blowing through the window in our north bedroom on the farm, as much as they like the wind.

I just stepped outside, and my mind was almost blown by the dual miracles of nature I witnessed:

looking to the west, the splendid sunset defies description,

and the full moon rising in the east always takes my breath–and my words–away.

Larger and less fleeting than that for me, is the fact that in just six days, we will experience the shortest night of the year on the winter solstice. Slowly, incrementally, every day will show us about a minute more of daylight after that. I am solar powered, so even this slow increase in sunlight daily will bring me out of the winter blahs. I am so grateful for that.

Now, to add frosting to my cake, the crazy wind that was blowing earlier is gone.

Sorry Gail and Suzanne. I will always love you both, but I will always hate the wind.

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Happy Thanksgiving every day. And happy winter solstice. And happy full moon.

Thank you all, I am grateful for each of you.

ALWAYS AND FOREVER AND NEVER

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Sisterhood can come in many forms. The best part is that if you want, you can form a sisterhood with another woman. Or you can create as many sisters in your hood as you like.

I am so fortunate to have my sisters, Gail and Suzanne. Hands down, I couldn’t have hand-picked better for myself. If they were the only women I had to bond with, that would be an abundance. I am even more fortunate, however, to have bonds with many other women, and some of them are sisterhoods in themselves. Like the one I have with my college friends.

Tracy and I grew up together, and Marilyn and Denise grew up together. The four of us met at Fort Hays State University in Hays, Kansas, in 1984. That’s 40 years ago, and we didn’t fail to notice that big number.

Marilyn was my potluck roommate in the dorm when I arrived, and we all became roommates the next year. She accompanied me on my trip to the Southwest last spring (She Let Herself Go, March 4th, 2024), and I have her to thank for inspiring me to follow in her professional tracks to become a speech therapist.

Marilyn had a big birthday last month, and Tracy’s birthday was last week. We had many reasons to celebrate. We celebrate often, but never often enough. I have featured them before (Friends Forever, June 30, 2019 and several other posts.

They all arrived yesterday–Tracy from Kansas City and Marilyn and Denise from Wichita–to my home yesterday. We hung out for a bit, lunched, shopped in the unique shops in the vibrant downtown of my small city,

then spent the evening at The Farm, a restaurant/brewery/coffee shop/rec center/gathering place that defies all description.

There was an incredibly talented live musician there last night, and the food and drink were delectable, as always. It is a must-go-to in Minneapolis, Kansas, just north of my home.

Tracy, in her never-ending generous spirit, insisted on buying us all a gift for her birthday: matching shirts from The Farm.

We will sport them together at our next gathering, hopefully a road trip.

The 1980’s, if you lived through them and remember them, were a decade of excess. Big hair, big music, big fun. We had our share in college.

In 1986, Tracy and Denise participated in an air band competition. Marilyn and I were in charge of the fan club; we were their biggest groupies. This memory is one that we share often, and last night was no exception. As we pulled out of my driveway on our way to The Farm, in serendipitous Godwink fashion, the Universe gave us a nod through Sirius Radio:

This was the song they performed.

Perhaps a small fraction of you dear readers remember DJ’s, the legendary hangout in Hays, Kansas. The contest was held there. Enjoy the memories. You’re welcome.

Unlike the 80’s, we all lost our steam around 9:00 pm last night. Marilyn and Denise were driving back to Wichita, so it was time to call it a night. It was the end of a beautiful, memorable, laughter-filled day.

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Thanksgiving is upon us again. I try hard to be grateful for the abundance in my life every day of the year, including my abundance of friends. These three are at the top of my list of friends I am thankful for. They are always there, no matter what or where. They were a huge part of the magic and memories of college. While our time together waxed and waned in the busy family years, they were always a phone call away. They were beside me when my parents died. They have known me longer than most other people, with the exception of my sisters. Each of them has had to say goodbye to a beloved sister. I cannot imagine that pain, but loss has a way of bonding people together, and we have let it help us grow closer.

They are always there for me.

Always and Forever.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. May you count your friends–and your sisters–among all your other blessings on Thanksgiving and every day of the year. A sisterhood of friends is something to be thankful for.

FIFTY-TWO THANKSGIVING LUNCHES

/ middlesisterkathleen / 2 Comments

Every day should be Thanksgiving. Maybe not all that food, but certainly all that gratitude. It is one of my favorite holidays; the idea of expressing our thanks is timeless and gratitude can bring the silver lining out of almost any cloud.

It has been a longstanding tradition in our family to go to Gail’s house for a grand Thanksgiving celebration on Saturday after celebrating with our respective families on Thursday. Gail has always planned on it, grants our in-laws their due for the actual holiday, and hosts as many of her siblings and their families who can make the journey to western Kansas to her home.

Part of the tradition is the annual Sisters picture. It is taken each year in Camp Gail, the cozy little hideaway room she has in her house that is all her own. Before this post, there were six pictures of us at the beginning of each blog, adding one each year for every year of this blog–minus 2020. No further explanation needed.

This year, as you may have noticed, the picture is not taken in Camp Gail. This year, Gail passed the torch to her daughter Katy, who lives in Wichita. Katy, her husband Matt and their two-year old son Myles were the gracious hosts this hear, and Gail was thrilled to watch her daughter capably take the reins. Two of our brothers and their families were not able to make the trip because of the weather, their drive would have been three hours through the Saturday morning snow, then three hours back. Wisely, but sadly, they chose not to hit the road.

In Wichita, the snow fell softly, silently and without wind. It was a beautiful winter wonderland scene, until it was time to hit the road. Good thing their house is large, because they ended up with a few more campers than they had planned. My husband and I, as well as our younger son and his wife stayed with my stepson and his wife and kids who live very close to Katy, close enough to safely make our way slowly through the slushy, snowy, icy streets.

Perhaps the blessing we were most immediately thankful for was that everyone traveled safely home. There are always so many more, which is why we need to make every day a day of thanksgiving.

Gail’s grandson Myles was the official taster of our family’s secret-recipe dressing, as well as the ham taster.

New babies are always the star of the show, and Suzanne’s new grandson Jasper was no exception.

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Thirteen years ago, I had an idea to try to do something that would make me offer a very specific form of gratitude at least weekly. The idea struck me the week after thanksgiving 2010, and I set out to stretch Thanksgiving out all year.

I had–yet again–just told a friend “We should have lunch,” when I saw her in passing that week. Except that I knew I wouldn’t ask her for a lunch date, because I never followed up.

I hit the wall on that one. I decided, right then and there that I would never again say let’s do lunch without following up. So, every week (roughly) for one year (plus one month to catch everyone), I asked someone different to lunch. All those people I casually said we should have lunch to, I called them and asked them out. I thought I might have trouble filling the list of 52 at first, but as it turned out, I had to cut it off too soon, leaving more I should have asked to lunch.

I wanted to celebrate every unique relationship I had with each and every person, offering thanks for having them in my life. Of course, Gail and Suzanne were two of my dates.

The catch for them was this: they had to pay it forward to just one person and ask them to lunch, preferably someone they needed to connect with again. Then, they had to report back to me with the story of their lunch date, and each of the 52 entries would consist of my lunch date with them, followed by the story of their lunch date, either written by them or me. I would then turn those stories into a book.

Oh my.

What was I thinking? I’ll compare the process of having the actual dates, writing about them, following up with those dates and getting their stories, to herding cats and snakes at the same time, which explains why it took me 13 years to finish it. That, and I gave up multiple times, succumbing to refrain of this is the stupidest idea you have ever had playing on a constant loop through my head for much of those 13 years. Most of them were diligent and got back to me in short order with their story, but some didn’t. Then, I had to bless a few of them and let them go when they either chose to back out, or simply faded from the picture without a story. And that was okay, because I got to take them to lunch and celebrate them.

So then, I found a few more and added them as “bonus dates,” but they didn’t have to pay it forward, even though a few did.

All that, and the fact that I tend to be a slacker who starts multiple projects and doesn’t finish them, at least not in a timely manner.

Alas, I did finish, and here is the finished product:

Thirteen years to the day after I had my first date–December 1st–I published the book through Kindle Direct Publishing on Amazon.

I made some long-overdue connections, but a few of my dates had life-changing dates. The two on the bottom right of the cover mended a relationship that had been broken for 35 years. They fought over a guy in high school–neither one ended up with him–and hadn’t spoken since. They are close friends once again. Another one knew her time on earth was limited, and she connected with an old friend she hadn’t seen in years. It wasn’t too late. She passed away from pancreatic cancer a few months later.

It is never too late to reach out to those we need to connect with..

If you were one of my lunch dates, thank you so much, especially for your patience. You and your date will get a copy of the book from me. If you need a white elephant gift, consider this book! As always, thanks to any and all who read any and all of my writing.

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Happy Thanksgiving to you every day of the year. Reach out to someone you are grateful for, or reach out to many people you need to connect with. And, if you want to write a book about it, you have my blessing. Just don’t wait 13 years like I did.

Cheers! I’ll drink to that!

HER NAME IS LOLA

/ middlesisterkathleen / 4 Comments

It is that time of year again. The time of year when we should make an extra effort to count our blessings.

It should be practiced every day, because without it, life can feel quite dark.

The gratitude we offer on Thanksgiving, that is.

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The first picture in our series above was taken on Thanksgiving Day 2016. The last one in the series was taken this weekend in Camp Gail, the sacred space in Gail’s house where we hang out when we visit. They have all been taken in Camp Gail on Thanksgiving weekend, and for obvious reasons, we didn’t gather in 2020.

This is the non-negotiable (except in Covid times) time that we gather as a family at Gail’s house. It is expected that we will all be there with as many of our family members as possible.

This was her grandson Myles’ first Thanksgiving feast

It is a joint effort; each of us brings our specialty, as well as whatever else we would like to contribute. As you may have noticed, my specialty is sweet potatoes. Gail, Suzanne and I re-create Mom’s delicious dressing, and it tastes almost as good as hers.

Suzanne and I arrive on Friday to help with the preparation, and to soak up the mirth at Gail’s house. It’s always there.

This takes place on Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend. On Friday evening, before the cooking begins on Saturday, Suzanne and I–and our spouses–arrive to help Gail celebrate one of the joys of small-town life in the form of their Christmas parade.

Perhaps you remember Lola from former posts. She is the 1974 Chevrolet Nova Gail bought for herself on the occasion of her 60th birthday, almost 3 years ago. Whenever Gail takes Lola out, she is always a faithful ride, turning heads, just like a showgirl would.

This year, she knew it was time to get Lola into the parade action.

In the unforgettable Barry Manilow song, Lola was a showgirl. This Lola is a show car, and Gail proved that in a big way in her small town’s Christmas parade Friday night, right down to the yellow feathers in her hair (on her roof). She had a specially mixed blend of holiday songs to blast from the speaker hanging out side the door. In that blend, however, were snippets of the classics that were perfect for this occasion, just for this car: “Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl…” and the 1970 hit by the Kinks, “Lola, L-O-L-A, Lola.”

Gail’s former donut shop was in the Oddfellows–IOOF–building across the street. Lola was named after her former owner, and Gail extended an invitation to her son, John, to join her in the parade. He was thrilled to be a part of it all.

Gail’s daughter Lydia helped to toss out candy. Her grandson, Myles, and her step-granddaughter, Macy, helped, too.

There were other entrants in the parade, too, of course, but none quite like Lola–in my opinion.

The Grinch-mobile was second only to Lola, in my opinion.

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We arrived home this afternoon, with another weekend of Thanksgiving memories–and full stomachs– under our belts. Gail never fails to entertain and uplift, but more than that, she inspires every day of the year by living her life to the fullest every day of the year, not just on the holidays. She knows how to make any situation fun, and cares not one iota what anyone else thinks. She knows life is a ride, whether or not she is riding in Lola.

I wish everyone had someone like Gail in their family to remind them to keep life light, to have fun in any and every way possible and to offer gratitude even for the smallest things. I am so fortunate, and I give thanks every day.

Happy Thanksgiving every day of the year.

I AM SO THANKFUL FOR MY SISTERS.

THANKS AND GIVING

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Today was the busiest highway travel day of the year in America, and we were in the flow of interstate traffic as well.

After missing last year, we resumed our family tradition of Thanksgiving weekend at Gail’s house. The almost-3.5 hour trip from Suzanne’s and my small city, the 2.5 hour trip for our two brothers on the farm and the 5-hour trip for our brother in Wichita is always worth the trek–especially after the hole that 2020 left.

There was plenty of cooking,

and the eating commenced. It was delicious, tasting even better after missing a year.

Gail’s son Wyatt was first in line.

There were visits from extended family and friends as well, and Gail is pretty sure she reached record capacity in “Camp Gail,” her special space within her home.

Gail gained another grandson this year, and he was along to help celebrate. He didn’t even realize he was pretty much the center of attention.

There was a Christmas parade in the downtown of her small town Friday night,

Our dad was a member of the Fourth-Degree Knights of Columbus, just as these men are. As they do for fellow Knights who have passed, the other Knights stood in an honor guard at our parent’s funeral. Gail, Suzanne and I always have a moment of heartbreak, followed by joy whenever we see these Knights dressed in full honor guard attire, just as our dad was.

and we enjoyed the only in-store Black Friday shopping we ever partake of in her downtown as well.

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Thanksgiving is one of my top two favorite holidays. Along with the Fourth of July, I find joy in the celebrations of gratitude these two holidays bring. It’s simple really, saying ‘thank you’ for all blessings great and small on Thanksgiving, and celebrating the joys of freedom that Independence Day brings.

It’s not as simple, really, to keep this spirit of gratitude alive year-round, although that is what I believe would bring us more joy every day of the year, if we simply take the time and make the effort to send up a simple ‘thank you’ prayer. There is so much good fortune surrounding each of us every day, but sometimes, on the hard days, it seems to be invisible and nowhere to be found. These are the days, I have found, that are begging for another try, just a little more effort to dig a bit deeper to find those hidden gems.

They are there, even on days when you are sick, or on Monday mornings, or the rainy, windy and gray days, the days you didn’t sleep the night before, when worries about health or money crowd your mind, or when you had a fight with a loved one…you get the idea. It’s every day, even when it’s not a ‘good’ day.

Thanksgiving Day and Independence Day can, and should be every day. And when you’re not feeling it, consider, just as the plaque on Gail’s wall says, giving. Even when–especially when–you feel you have nothing to give. It’s there to share, somewhere deep within. Just keep looking. I need to try harder, but I have found that when I do practice giving, the thanks come automatically.

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There is a new picture at the beginning of this post, it follows the four previous annual Sister Lode pictures taken in Camp Gail each year at her Thanksgiving celebration–minus last year. Beginning in 2016, we continue to pose for our yearly snapshot. Each year, I feel the gratitude a little more. My sisters remain my best friends, and I am thankful for them every day. They keep me smiling and laughing, and make me realize, despite our shared losses, how fortunate I am to have them in my life.

They remind me that every day is Thanksgiving Day.

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After 29 months, my book was published this week. I am so honored to help tell one veteran’s story–ONE AMERICAN’S STORY. My work with Jim Fawcett has reminded me that, thanks to veterans like him, active duty military, National Guard and Reserves, every day is indeed Independence Day.

The book is now available on Amazon in print and as an e-book as well. Please consider reading it and gifting it as a celebration of your Independence Day, and Thanksgiving Day as well: “One American’s Story” by Jim Fawcett and Kathleen Depperschmidt. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B09M4QZ8Q6.

Thanks to all of you for continuing to read our blog, and Happy Thanksgiving–every day of the year.

NEW CAR SMELL

/ middlesisterkathleen / 3 Comments

NEW CAR SMELL

*accordion music

*getting the mail

*the cool underside of the pillow

*loving a book enough to read it again

*a luscious watermelon in November

*watching the almost-full moon come up as the sun goes down in beautiful Kansas style on the opposite horizon

*looking up the origin of a word and understanding how it became part of our language (I’m a word nerd, remember)

*turning off all the lights except those on the Christmas tree

*even though our car is five years old, it still has that special new car smell

*spraying whipped cream out of a can

*making a “pond” in the mashed potatoes for the gravy

*the vibrant orange color of sweet potatoes

*creative Thanksgiving leftovers prepared by my husband

*realizing that parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme are the actual spices in poultry seasoning, as well as Simon & Garfunkel song lyrics

*being able to borrow these spices from the neighbor when I realized I didn’t have any poultry seasoning for the Thanksgiving dressing

*being grateful for Gail’s annual Thanksgiving celebration, even though I wasn’t there

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Besides the usual gratitude I offer for health, family, abundance, faith, hope and love, I had to dig deeper this year to find new things to be thankful for on Thanksgiving.

This is 2020.  I needn’t say more, but I did come up with a few things—see above.

This year has been beyond anyone’s wildest expectations—and for most of us, not in a good way.  However, one thing hasn’t changed, and never will:  abundance and good fortune exists in our minds if we let it, and if we choose to do that, it becomes apparent in our lives.

It’s all in how you look at it.

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There should be another picture of us three at the beginning of this blog—the fifth in our annual Thanksgiving picture series.  Every year for the last four years, Gail, Suzanne and I have taken a picture together in Camp Gail–Gail’s happy place in her house—when we gather together at her house on Thanksgiving weekend. 

Not this year.  Time will tell if we can all get together at Christmas, but I am not holding my breath.  And that’s okay.

We will gather again, and when we do, we will feel gratitude like never before.  Sometimes, something has to be taken away before we fully appreciate it. 

There was but a fraction of the guests at Gail’s annual Turkey Party. Suzanne was there, so they staged this picture in my absence.  The T-shirts are thanks to Gail and her festive spirit, with the original idea credited to her daughter Lydia:

Gail and Suzanne offered their thanks for things great and small:

Gail:

*the wind (ugh)

*cool auction finds

*leftovers

*clotheslines—Amen, sister!

*pillows

*fires in wood-burning stoves—Amen again!

*plush blankets

*cold, cold beer

Suzanne:

*cookie dough

*coconut ice cream, but it’s hard to find

*really good crushed ice—as in Sonic ice

*wind—ugh again

*cool second-hand store finds

*jigsaw puzzles—Amen, sister!

*This is a BIG one, she says:  people who can spell and punctuate correctly—they are a dying breed!  Again, Amen!

*the ocean

*her two favorite people—no, not Gail and me, but her daughter and her fiancé.

Bonus!  One of her two favorite people AT the ocean!

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Happy Thanksgiving every day of the year.  May your list be at least as long and obscure as ours are!    

HEARTS AND HANDS THAT HEAL

/ middlesisterkathleen / 9 Comments

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HEARTS AND HANDS THAT HEAL

When my firstborn was perhaps five or six years old, he asked me the inevitable question: “Mom, how did I get in your stomach?”

Not wanting to tell the whole truth just yet, but not wanting to lie to him either, I took the easy—but true—way out: I responded: “God put you there.”

Without hesitation, he responded emphatically, “No she didn’t!”

Initially, I was confused at his response. With a little probing, it became apparent that he was confusing our female family doctor—the one who delivered him as well—with God. If she took care of me while he was in my stomach, delivered him, and then took care of both of us after that, then surely she must be the God I was speaking of.

In a way, she was. And, even though she is no longer our doctor—she moved away several years ago–she still is a god(dess). Like the doctor I now have, both women are goddesses on this earth—now, more than ever before.

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Tomorrow, March 30th, is National Doctor’s Day. It is a day designated to celebrate the contributions physicians make to our society, and their dedication to our personal and community well-being. It is a day we should all have heightened awareness of how fortunate we are to have these earthly gods and goddesses among us.

The first Doctor’s Day was celebrated on March 30th, 1933. Eudora Brown Almond, the wife of a physician in Georgia, wanted to honor her husband and all other doctors, so she began the tradition. She urged people to send thank-you cards to their doctors, and to place flowers on the graves of deceased doctors.

On February 21st, 1991 (Gail’s 31st birthday, by the way), President George H.W. Bush proclaimed National Doctor’s Day to honor the nation’s physicians for their dedication and leadership.

Now, 29 years later in 2020, this annual observation couldn’t be more important.

I don’t have to expand on the important role doctors—and nurses—are currently playing in our country, and across the globe. You already know all this. They are the heroes and heroines of this seemingly unreal saga that continues to intensify as it plays out more intensely every hour of every day.

We all know what to do in order to stay healthy, and to keep everyone around us healthy. I don’t need to repeat any of that.

I do, however, want to use this platform to encourage you to celebrate Doctor’s Day tomorrow. If you already have sent a card to your doctor, or any doctor you know, kudos to you. Aside from saying thank you, I don’t know of anything more the general public should do for our doctors and nurses, besides following all the precautions, safety rules and restrictions upon us. We all must do our part to keep the spread of the virus as minimal as possible.

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On September 11th, 2001, we watched in horror—on television, safe in our homes–as the terrorist attack victims ran out of, and away from the sites of the devastation. We also watched as the firemen and other first responders ran into, and toward the devastation. It was their job, and they didn’t hesitate to do it.

Soldiers run toward the battle, while we are safe at a distance.

Policemen don’t think twice before putting themselves in the line of fire in order to protect and serve all of us.

Now, in this war against COVID-19, doctors and nurses are on the front lines. They sacrifice their own safety, health and comfort to treat the sick. Many of them have tested positive for the virus; some have died. It is likely that many more will become sick, and more will likely die.

Doctors and nurses know they are placing themselves at potential risk when they first sign up for the job. I doubt many of them envisioned the kind of risk they are facing today; none of us expected a pandemic like this one. Yet, they don’t hesitate to rush toward the devastation, run toward the battle, and put themselves in the line of fire. They are the front-line soldiers in this war; they are in the trenches of the battle.

And yet, they don’t hesitate to go to war. It is their job; their calling. And they do it not for themselves, but for you. For me. For all of us.

The least we can do is to say thank you.

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My small city has yet to identify a case among its residents, but it will likely be a short matter of time. I live in a rural area in the neighboring county, and there has been one resident identified.   The numbers will inevitably grow. My family and I are staying home, getting out for essential matters only.   My husband and I have jobs that are considered essential, and we are still working, but the decline in business for both of us has already begun.   We will continue to respond accordingly. We are thankful for our health.

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I rarely have dreams about my parents. After they first died, I longed to dream about them because, even though I knew it wasn’t real, it made me feel they were still with us. In these rare dreams, it is as if they never died, and it is not out of the ordinary that they are here when I dream about them.

I dreamed about Dad last night. It was in the midst of a series of other dreams, and he made a very brief appearance, then he was gone. He simply laughed his memorable belly laugh. He looked like this in my dream:

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I have been thinking about Dad a lot lately, because  his birthday is tomorrow, March 30th; the same day as Doctor’s Day. He would have been 86 years old.

If you knew our dad, you know that he didn’t know a stranger. He loved to talk to people, whether he knew them or not.

If you knew our mom, you knew she was the quiet one. Dad expressed himself verbally, and while she wasn’t a writer per se, she did love to write letters and notes. She knew the power of the written word, and she left us an incredible gift in a written letter to be found after she died, and read at her funeral.  While the letter itself remains a personal treasure among her seven children, I detail the message in Peace, Sister (July 16th, 2017).

Mom’s birthday would have been January 22nd. She would have been 84 years old. On that day this year, the meaning of this calendar didn’t escape me. A co-worker who displays this calendar graciously agreed to grant me this page after I told him the story about Mom’s letter.  I now display it on a frame, placing it in front of me as I sit at my table to catch up on my thank-you notes.

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Listen to the wisdom of our mother. If you haven’t already, send your doctor a thank-you card in honor of Doctor’s Day. It won’t matter that it may not arrive on time. Don’t underestimate its power.

Listen to our dad’s wisdom, too. Be sure to laugh like he did in the above picture, and in my dream last night. Don’t underestimate the power of laughter, especially at a time like this.

Listen to your doctor. Never underestimate their power.  They should be considered gods and goddesses on earth right now.  And, if you haven’t already, take the cue from Dr. Almond’s wife and send your doctor a card.

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My dear friend Shari is an engineer extraordinaire at Hallmark Cards.  She has informed me that they are helping to share the love of handwritten notes at this crucial time by offering three free cards to anyone who signs up online.   Simply go to http://www.Hallmark.com to get your free cards, and write on!

 

 

PASS THE PIE

/ middlesisterkathleen / 5 Comments

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PASS THE PIE

It shouldn’t be so complicated, really. But, like so many other things, we humans—myself included– make it so.

It doesn’t take much extra time or effort, and it certainly doesn’t cost anything. Just a few moments to think about what we have, and maybe what we’re lucky that we don’t have. Several minutes here and there to stop ourselves from the busy-ness and look around.

They are everywhere, if you just look for them. So many things to be grateful for, so much we can say a quick ‘thank you’ for.

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I am guilty. I don’t look around enough, nor do I always take those few extra moments that can make the difference between seeing something as good instead of bad.

In my blog two weeks ago, I strung my sisters up for loving the wind. The blasted Kansas wind that sometimes hollows out my soul. This time it was blasting northwest winds that brought me down, winds we fought for almost 3 ½ hours as we drove northwest to Gail’s house for the annual Thanksgiving celebration that she hosts with the most every year on Thanksgiving Saturday.

Driving into this driving wind, I tried to find some way to enjoy it, some way to see it as positive. I failed at that, so I downshifted one gear, and found a few things I could be thankful about despite the wind:

*The ground was wet from snow and rain, so there was minimal fire danger.

*There was no precipitation falling at that time.

*Our car was warm and sturdy, fighting the whipping wind. The space-age technology in our Subaru even braked the car automatically when a large tumbleweed blew across Interstate 70 right in front of us, causing the car to think it was an obstacle to brake for, which, obviously, it was.

Despite all this, I still cussed my sisters. So did many other family members.

But we’re not here to cuss and complain. Since the maiden post in this blog, we have tried to keep it positive, with gratitude and positivity as core element of our posts.   If ever we go down, we always try to come back up in the end, offering optimism and a happy ending.

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Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year. The family, food, faith, friends and fun are celebrated today—especially today—with a reminder and challenge to offer up this gratitude every day. There are no commercial expectations, no gifts to buy—just good food, and lots of it.

Gail, in case you couldn’t guess from previous posts, is the hostess/cook extraordinaire.  We honor our mother’s dressing recipe by repeating it to our best abilities, which is usually pretty darn good.  We try to make it with all three of us together, but this year, it was only Gail and Suzanne. It is so good, in fact, that there are a select few people in Gail’s small town who request a sample, and Gail delivers.  It’s all in the spirit of giving.

Along with the dressing, the menu consists of turkey, ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, cream cheese corn–all from Gail’s kitchen. Every family member brings their specialties, including: sweet potato casserole (mine), green bean casserole (Suzanne’s), rolls, vegetable trays, cookies, appetizers, sausage/cheese/cracker tray and multiple desserts. There is no shortage of food.

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Gail and I delight in preparing homemade pies. We must brag that never once, with the hundreds of pies we have made collectively throughout our lives, have we purchased ready-made pie crusts. Mom taught us well. I made nine pies Wednesday evening to share between my two family celebrations. Gail, always the over-achiever (in a good way), went the extra mile to carve the flesh out of a fresh pumpkin for her pie.

 

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Family is always the first important ‘F’ of all them listed above. Being together with most of our family is the greatest gift of the holiday. Everyone helps,

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and everyone partakes and enjoys.

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Full stomachs match our full hearts,

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and family is celebrated in many ways.

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The hostesses and hosts with the mostesses and mosts.

Full stomachs and hearts also translate into a full house, so for the second year in a row, my husband and I enjoyed the solitude of a small cabin on the small lake in Gail’s small town for the night.

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Mercifully, the wind died down overnight, and we awoke to some wind with the cold, but it was manageable.

Giving thanks for the basics of fabulous Thanksgiving food and shelter from the wind was the order of the day. This morning, I gave thanks for the third basic element of physical survival: clothing. With four thin layers on top and one heavy layer on the bottom, I gave thanks for the opportunity to stay warm while moving my legs and body with my daily run/walk, this time around the lake.

Taking a lesson from the birds of nature, I offered up thanks for the water and the sunshine as well. No matter the weather, nature offers a daily bounty to be thankful for, and despite the wind and cold, it was no different this morning.

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The geese have it figured out; they know how to enjoy the cold, the wet and the wind. With their cue, I did, too.

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We got back to Gail’s house this morning, and we were greeted with fresh coffee and brunch. Gail, of course, was back at it in the kitchen again. After the eggs and ham, the pies once again beckoned, so we answered the call. We passed the pie.

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Our signature picture at the beginning of every blog was taken three years ago in Camp Gail, her small but mighty room-of-her-own in her home. It is decorated with anything and everything that brings her joy. I have Fort Kathleen in my home, which is my space that fills me up, filled up with all the things that bring me joy. We are immensely grateful for these spaces and for the joy they bring us.  Suzanne, ever the minimalist, does not want such a crowded space, and that’s okay too.

Every year during the Thanksgiving celebration, we take another picture in Camp Gail, and they are posted at the beginning of each blog. They signify our continued sisterhood, which keeps going and keeps growing in its depth and meaning.

Despite our losses, we continue to be grateful for each other, for the rest of our families, our friends, for our health, happiness, hopes and dreams fulfilled and those still in progress.

Gratitude, in its simplest form, is just two words: thank you. No matter which force you pray to, this is the building block of living a simply wonderful life. It’s not hard. Just remember to give thanks every day of the year for all things great and small.  It can turn negativity into positivity.  It’s your choice–and mine, too, free for the taking.

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May every day be Thanksgiving Day for you.

 

 

ANGELS AMONG US

/ middlesisterkathleen / 5 Comments

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ANGELS AMONG US

I had a welcome guest last night.  He hadn’t visited in awhile, even though he knows my door is always open for him, and I would so love to see him more often.  I can’t predict when he will show up, but it always seems to be at the perfect time.

Be careful what you wish for.  I think I have given this admonition a few times before.

I had a dream about my dad last night.  He stopped by our house for a casual visit, as if he had never been gone.  All my dreams about Mom and Dad—and there aren’t many—are always in the context of a normal gathering, interaction or visit.  They are still on earth in my dreams, never having left.

In this dream, my dad stopped by our house just as I discovered a water leak.  It appeared to be coming from the top floor, draining two floors below to the basement.  I immediately brought it to my husband’s attention, my Mark of all trades and master of all—especially plumbing, and he was more concerned that we get going to wherever we were going at the moment.  “We’ll take care of it when we get back,” he said.

Now, if you know my husband, you know this is preposterous, he would have been on it in a cloud of dust; no hesitation.  The plumber from my hometown even showed up in my dream, and took a look at it.  He couldn’t figure it out.  My husband did take the time to check it out, but couldn’t find the leak, either.

My dad–my brilliant father, took one look and found a faulty plug on a nonexistent toilet in a nonexistent bathroom in our home.

Problem solved.

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Any essence of creativity for today’s blog didn’t show up yesterday, as I was trying to get it going.  I had several started, and several waiting in the wings, but nothing came together.  I thought perhaps I may have to crap out for this week, and try again next week.  I am at the mercy of this fickle force; if it doesn’t show up, there is nothing I can do to find the words.

At the end of the day yesterday, I prayed for some spark of inspiration, some guidance; some ideas.  I woke up with ideas swimming this morning, courtesy, I’m sure, of my dad’s visit.

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I put the Thanksgiving/autumn decorations away yesterday.  I felt a bit blue, as Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  My husband suggested we get started on the Christmas decorations, and this made me even more blue.  I wanted to enjoy the space between the holidays with a bit of nothingness; I wanted to savor the lingering Thanksgiving tidings before hauling out the Christmas ones.

I feel strongly about the meaning of Christmas, but I don’t feel so good about how our society commercializes it.  I struggle with this every year.  I languish in the element of gratitude Thanksgiving brings; enhancing the practice of giving thanks can only be a positive formula for the striving toward peace on earth that Christmas should bring.

I decided to change one thing to try to keep the spirit of Thanksgiving more alive all year.

Several weeks ago, I found a Thanksgiving angel created by Jim Shore, one of my favorite artists.  He has become a favorite because Dad used to buy his pieces for Mom, having discovered them at their local drug store/gift shop.  He had bought her several pieces which we divided among us, and I have added to them with my own.  Mom loved angels.  We decided to engrave one on her side of their tombstone.

When I found this “Joy In The Harvest” angel, I knew she needed to come home with me.  So she did.

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When I put her away yesterday with the other Thanksgiving decorations, it brought me down.  When I woke up this morning, the first thought I remember was this:  Get the angel back out and leave her up all year.  Put her by your parent’s picture.  Perhaps that was the parting message Dad left me in the dream, right after he diagnosed the water leak.  Perhaps he wanted this special piece from the special artist displayed.

So, I did.  But this presented a new problem.

I have a small, family-heirloom table that serves as an altar; a shrine for my parents.  It is crowded already, as there are pictures, multiple other angels and small keepsakes to remind me of, and honor, Mom and Dad. Mom’s favorite saint–Saint Francis, as well as his prayer, is honored there, too.

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“Give away one thing of great value,” was the advice given on a favorite daily calendar.

As these words from several months ago rang in my head, I knew what I must do.  I must part with one angel to make room for this one.  “One in, one out,” is the rule I try to live by when adding new possessions.  This is hard, and just this morning over coffee, my husband reminded me that I don’t necessarily need to one in just because I one out.  We will table this discussion for another day.

Today, however, is a special day.  December 2nd is my neighbor Diana’s birthday, and she, too, loves angels.  She speaks the language of angels, understands loss and forges on, having lost a son 21 years ago, the same way I lost my parents.

This beautiful angel, a gift from a family friend, was given within a floral arrangement at my parents’ funeral.  Her beauty must be shared, so I am passing her on to my angel of a neighbor, Diana, in honor of her angel in Heaven, Mark.

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This gratitude thing can be hard.  Some days, I don’t feel very grateful.  If I didn’t sleep well, which is a hit-or-miss affair at age 52, and especially if certain joints have decided to act up again, then I lose my focus.  I find myself angry because sleep escaped me, which makes everything gray and more uncomfortable.

I take some quiet time each morning to write, especially by hand, in a journal.  One practice that I keep is this:  write down three things I am grateful for, three things I haven’t written before, as well as all the big ones I write every day.   Most days, before I do this, I wonder what on earth I will come up with.  I think I can’t possibly think of three new things again, yesterday and the day before were hard enough.

Yet, I do.  I have become skilled at taking a glass that is half-empty, and calling it half-full.  It’s all in how you look at it.

And the how you look at it is the key.

It is your choice to see the glass as half-empty or half-full.  No one gets to dictate those thoughts inside your head.  It is always your choice, and I am here to testify that I have tried it both ways, and half-full always feels better.

When I get really desperate, when I feel there is no way I can possibly find even one more thing to be thankful for that I haven’t yet written down, I get quite creative with my gratitude.  Among the things I have written down on these lowest of low days include:

*electricity:  there was a planned power outage from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m. 

*French press coffee during this power outage, courtesy of my husband heating the water on the gas burner on his grill in order to press the coffee, our morning life-giving drink.

*flannel sheets

*six 25-cent CDs at a garage sale from several of my favorite artists

*no sign of bedbugs after being exposed to them (again) on a home health visit

*a beautiful, intricate spiderweb on the porch

While it has taken me a long time—years—to sense gratitude for the following, I can say, with peace,  I have arrived at a place where I am thankful for these gifts:

*my parents didn’t have to leave each other behind when they died

*they didn’t have to suffer for one moment, like so many of my patients do

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Angels are among us, within us and all around us.  If you don’t sense this, turn some thoughts around.  Look around.  I hope you find them close, within your own home, even.  If you are lucky like me, you will have one or more as your sister/sisters.

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Perhaps you may even have one next door, like I do.

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Happy Birthday Diana

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May every day be Thanksgiving Day for you.  May you take the spirit of gratitude into the Christmas season with you to find the peace that is within, so that you may do what you can to create peace on earth, just like Mom and Saint Francis asked us all to do.

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