When I finished She Let Herself Go (March 4th, 2024), the title stuck with me. So, I took that as another sign, and took it from there.
Last Sunday, I started a Facebook page by the same name: She Let Herself Go. If you haven’t visited it yet, please do. There are so many amazing women out there on amazing adventures, and I want to feature them and their travels, as well as mine. I aspire to inspire women–and men–of all ages, but especially women over 50.
I finished another trip around the sun this week. Not a milestone, but I believe every birthday, every year should be celebrated, no matter how old or how young. As long as you can walk and talk–and even if you can’t, as many of my patients don’t let that stop them, you can likely get out.
I excused myself from work that day, had a leisurely morning, and spent the afternoon with my husband who also excused himself from work in the afternoon. I chose our destination: Lindsborg, Kansas, just half an hour away from home. It’s a quaint small town, known as “Little Sweden.” The influence of its Swedish settlers is obvious, and the town citizens take great pride in its world-famous tourism.
They should. It’s a short getaway, one I like to take when I need to let myself go on a short budget of time. There are many others in this area; one need not go far to find points of interest and scenery in Kansas. Chances are, wherever you live, there are places, perhaps hidden gems, that you can let yourself go to when you need a quick refresher and a change of scenery.
There was a time in my not too distant past when obligations and limitations kept me from getting away as much as I do now. Family and work, time and money. The basic ones that keep most people from letting themselves go. Those obligations are still there to a lesser degree, and as I age, I continue to try to find more creative ways to make it all work. I used to be happy sitting in my home reading about other places; now I can’t sit still as long as I once did.
I realized I had a lot of people to visit in the US, so I took a map and plotted out those people in those places I wanted to visit. My trip last month was the first of many I hope to complete, hopefully more checkered flags soon.
Gail, Suzanne and I still like to go on getaways together far and near, but we also go with others. Suzanne is planning a beach trip this summer with a friend, and while Gail doesn’t currently have any trips on her agenda, she can usually find adventure in a typical day’s work–or romping about town with the other Mrs. Ropers featured in that last post.
I let myself go to Topeka, our state capitol, several weeks ago with two dear friends. We toured the state capitol building–a first for me–and took in the Dwight Yoakam concert. He is an incredible musician.
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I let myself go all the way to the top of the capitol dome, even outside on the walkway.
But enough about me. Here’s what the amazing women on my new page are doing:
My friend Shari is hiking the Camino de Santiago trail (northern) in Spain right now with five other women, hiking 100 miles in seven days, staying in hostels along the way and packing only a backpack for the entire trip.
My friend “Captain Amy” just returned from 41 days at sea as captain/eco-tour guide. She went from Argentina to Antarctica and many places in between, educating and inspiring her guests to appreciate and preserve the natural beauty of our world. Like Gail, she makes an adventure out of her work.
The Day after my initial She Let Herself Go post, I picked up my friend Marilyn and we went to the Grand Canyon. It never fails to inspire.
In case those epic trips are out of your league at this point in your life, remember there is beauty and fun to take in close to home as well.
The panoramic beauty of central Kansas from atop Coronado Heights near Lindsborg
When the sitcom “Three’s Company” premiered in 1977, it crossed some TV boundaries that had never been challenged: two single women living with one male roommate. Our parents forbade us to watch it; it crossed their boundaries, too.
As a parent, I get it now, and I respect that they cared enough to set that limit for us. Now, however, as adults and parents ourselves, we realize social norms and mores have changed considerably in these last 47 years.
Perhaps that is why Gail chose to celebrate the landlady “Mrs. Roper” by joining an already established Facebook phenomenon known as “Mrs. Roper’s Romp.” Since Gail has no shortage of friends, and she was already a cogent influencer in her small town before “influencer” became a thing, she had no problem getting her friends to join her.
And, I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad are nodding their approval–and laughing–from above.
Gail and her daughter Lydia
One of the Mrs. Roper’s mothers saw the group romping down the street, and thought they were dressed as clowns. Good thing she doesn’t suffer from coulrophobia!
Apparently, this is sweeping the nation, at least for those women–and some men–who want to get in touch with their inner Mrs.–and Mr. Roper.
This, apparently was the first Romp for Gail’s group, but there will certainly be more. Stay tuned to her Facebook page for future Romps!
Suzanne and I engaged in lower-key fun yesterday. Being the spelling nerds we are, we took ourselves to the Kansas State Spelling Bee, the Scripps preliminary for the National Spelling Bee to be held in Washington DC. It was hosted right here in our small city; it is our understanding it had always been in our capitol city of Topeka, but this year, it was right in our backyard.
Of course, we couldn’t miss it. And, of course, we were the only ones there who weren’t there to support their child/family member as they competed. We could tell, because everyone else in the small crowd had a nametag with a number for their participant.
We didn’t care. We own our spelling nerdiness; wear it like a badge of honor.
The words started out easy as they typically do, but quickly progressed in difficulty as the single-elimination error policy resulted in a quick exodus of many in the contestant group.
Pictures were not allowed during the competition, this was the warm-up round.
New to us was the Vocabulary Round, whereby the contestant is given a word with two possible definitions. The 50/50 odds didn’t prevail for a considerable number of contestants, and I found myself questioning my own ability. And I thought I was such a word and spelling nerd. Turns out that, perhaps as the late great Toby Keith sang, “I ain’t as good as I once was.” My temerity was now obvious to me. No longer can I continue to blandish myself as an ace speller. Even my lexicon isn’t what I thought it was, as the vocabulary round proved.
I felt the old familiar feelings of excitement and anxiety I once felt as the young spelling bee contestant, my stomach perhaps needed an antacid from the dyspeptic stress, but the truth is, my hips fared worse than my stomach from the four hours on the bleachers in that auditorium, reminding me more of my sciatica.
The words continued to increase in complexity and decrease in familiarity; they would vacillate between short and long words such as crith and hermeneutics. In the end, likely all but one of the contestants were mollified by their families in attendance, the rubicon from the wrong answer took them out of the game.
One excited young man took home the gold, and one disappointed young woman claimed second place. I felt her pain. I placed second in the Mitchell County (Kansas) spelling bee in the fourth grade and never placed again. Clearly, I have never recovered from that defeat.
Gail is a spelling nerd, too, as evidenced by our participation–and last year’s victory–in the team adult spelling bee we participate in. We missed it this year, as it was the same day my son got married.
Next year.
Perhaps all the brouhaha over Mrs. Roper’s Romping in Gail’s hamlet is misunderstood by some, but clearly they haven’t spent enough time with Gail and her friends. Gail, Suzanne and I see fun as a non-negotiable aspect of living a full life. Clearly all the other Mrs. Ropers do, too.
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My last post was Monday, March 4th. March Forth. We all did, as we continue to do. I continued my trip through Arizona, picking up my friend Marilyn in Flagstaff the next morning, then traveling to the sacrosanct and breathtaking natural wonder that she had not yet seen: the Grand Canyon. I had been several times including a day hike, but it never fails to inspire me and fill me with wonder.
We visited my dear friends Tana and Amy in Phoenix, then came home through Portales, New Mexico, where I went on an exchange program there from my university in 1986.
I hadn’t been back in 20 years; the good memories and nostalgia filled a place deep inside me.
Marilyn was able to connect with a college friend who lived in the area, she hadn’t seen her in about 25 years. It was a tearful and blessed reunion.
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The moral of Mrs. Roper’s Romp and the spelling bee is this: whatever your breed of fun is, HAVE IT! Get your weird on if you have to, or get your quirky self to the spelling bee. Or, get out and travel to see the people and places you want to see.
Keep your heart and mind open to new experiences, keep your head high and your arms open wide to capture all that is out there waiting for you. If youlisten to your heart–and let yourself go, you will likely find yourself in a continuum of raucous joy, a recipient of a veritable cornucopia of beguiling fun.
Welcome to a special Monday night edition of The Sister Lode. You’ll see why I chose to write it tonight…
I did it again. I didn’t think I should, but I did. And I am so glad I did.
Suzanne, Gail and I all do it. Sometimes together, sometimes separately. Sometimes we do it near, and sometimes we do it far. Sometimes we do it west, and sometimes we do it east. Sometimes north or south, even southeast. Tonight, I am doing it southwest.
Letting ourselves go, that is.
I let myself go last Thursday. I had a grand plan to visit people I needed to connect with, and see cool places along the way. So, my first stop was in our beloved Cripple Creek, Colorado for our annual trip. Suzanne stayed back, but Gail, Margaret and I had a fabulous time. I drove alone Thursday, arriving about an hour after Gail and Margaret did. They got a jump start on the fun, but there is always plenty to be had. More on that in a bit, as I am writing this in installments as I unpack my computer every night, wherever I happened to land.
I drove alone because my Grand Plan is this: Cripple Creek to Creede, Colorado, which didn’t pan out due to snow and strong winds predicted in the mountains of southwest Colorado. My friend and fellow speech therapist Christy lives there, and it was time for a visit. We worked together at one point and she was a fabulous coworker. Plan B was to drive south to Santa Fe to avoid the weather. I am writing this part from my beautiful hotel room on the Plaza in downtown Santa Fe. Not coincidentally, the hotel I chose is the Hotel St. Francis. The St. Francis Basilica is nearby as well.
Mom’s favorite saint was Saint Francis, and he has become ours, too.
I will get up early and get in a run/walk around the Santa Fe Plaza to stretch these legs before I put them back in the car for another six hours tomorrow. I will stop in Albuquerque to connect with another friend for breakfast.
I hadn’t seen Debby since we both attended Eastern New Mexico University. I was there for the Fall 1986 semester on an exchange program from my home college of Fort Hays State University. I hadn’t stayed in touch with her, but we recently connected again through Diane, who was also a student on the exchange from her college in Maine. Soon, Debby and I plan to let ourselves go to Maine to see her.
On down Interstate 40 to my current location: splendidly beautiful, spiritual and mystic Sedona, Arizona.
I am staying in a charming VRBO. I found it online Tuesday night, but knew I wanted to follow this Russian proverb: The morning is wiser than the evening. I felt strongly emotional about staying here, but I wanted to let some reason seep in, too. So, I waited until morning, knowing it might be booked already, as most of the dates on the March calendar March for this place were not available. If it wasn’t there in the morning, I decided it was, as my friend Carol says in Yiddish, beshert. Fate.
As fate would see to it, it was indeed available, and I made it mine for these three nights. If you need a one-bedroom place to stay here, let me know. It is splendidly perfect for a stay here.
Minutes after I booked this beautiful VRBO, I set out for my daily run/walk. The first song on my iPod was “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” Yes, we do, and so do you. The next song was “Roam” by the B-52s. Here’s my signs.
My ultimate destination on this ten-day adventure is Phoenix to see my dear friends Tana and Amy. These are the two sisters who, along with their families, visit me every summer. I “babysat” them years ago, and we have stayed close. I am so glad we have.
They have starred in multiple posts, including: Thirty-nine Years, (July 9th, 2023), Swheat Girls Part Two and Three, (July 10th, 2022, July 7th, 2019).
Gail, Margaret and I savored our time in Cripple Creek, taking in this unique exhibit that Cripple Creek was chosen to host. Each year, “Ice Castles” selects four (cold) places around the country to create their ice masterpieces, and our timing was perfect to see it before it was slated to come down on March 3rd.
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Today is March 4th again. Sixteen years ago on this date, we lost our parents in a car accident. The memories of pain and sadness will forever swirl around this date, but with each passing year, the legacy of love they left and the memories of the good times outweigh this pain. We do all we can to celebrate their lives all year through, but especially on this date. Last year, I went to the top of Pike’s Peak on March 4th. (Closer to Heaven, March 5th, 2023) This year, I am in Sedona, Arizona. I haven’t yet decided where I’ll go next year.
“March Forth” has become our rally cry, and we plan to continue to March farther each year.
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All this adventuring requires time, energy and money. All of us possess these three basic resources in disparate amounts. Most of us–myself included–underestimate how much of each we truly have. Remember, most of us can make more money, but none of us can make more time. The physical and mental energy we each possess is largely in our control and can be increased if we do the work. Most of us–again, myself included–feel guilty spending those resources on ourselves, but if we don’t take care of ourselves first with them, we can’t spend them on others. Most of us live in a straitjacket of perceived “shoulds” and “should-nots,” myself included. However, each of us are the only ones who can separate out the perceived obligations and duties from the real ones, and this is a task. It takes some mind and soul-searching, but it’s in there. Remember: Don’t ‘should’ on yourself.”
I think perhaps if we all let ourselves go a little more, we could hang on to each other a little better.
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I set out this morning to hike through the beautiful red rocks here in Sedona. The Thunder Mountain trailhead is just 200 yards from my door, and when I set out on it, “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC came on my iPod.
Here’s another sign. They are out there if we stay open to them.
The scenery was breathtaking and brilliantly beautiful. These pictures are worth a million words, so I’ll let them tell the story.
Also on the trail was the Amitabha Stupa, a sacred Buddhist landmark signifying peace and enlightened presence.
Tomorrow morning, I will drive to Flagstaff to pick up my dear friend Marilyn. ( Sister Sarah, October 22, 2017.)
I invited her along, but she couldn’t join me until tomorrow. We will go to the Grand Canyon–she hasn’t yet seen it. Marilyn was my potluck dorm roommate in 1984, and also my inspiration to become a speech therapist. I am so grateful she was placed in my path.
It will indeed be Grand, just as our friendship is.
I must admit I felt some fear before I set out alone in the car. Now, 1,222 miles later, I am so glad I didn’t let it take over. There were many “what-ifs” that crept into my mind, but I ignored them. Unless you are like Gail and are indeed fearless, you might have a few of those growing, too.
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You are here is always where we all are. Some people are content to stay in their here, and I must admit I wish I could be more like them. However, if you don’t like your here, figure out where your there is, and make it your here. And I’m not talking only about a geographic place, if you get my drift. Your mind will likely try to talk you out of it, so you’ll need to pull the ‘what-if’ weeds out of that beautiful garden that is already growing in your mind, and smell the ‘why-not’ wildflowers. Those beautiful blooms are there waiting to flourish, but are likely being choked by the weeds.
Taking the first step might be hard,
but just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Sometimes the road may be rocky, but if you let it, it just may rise up to meet you. (That one’s for you, Anna!)
You’ll know when you get there.
Perhaps, like me, you can’t stay there, but do enjoy the time you do have while you are there.
Gail gave Suzanne and me the necklace with Mom and Dad’s picture last year. Her daughter Lydia had one made for her, so she knew we needed one, too.
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I pray you don’t need sadness or a tragedy to spur you on to March Forth. However, I have learned that most of us have been bruised and battered by life (and death) in some way. It may be visible or not, it may be public or not, but most of us carry some weight we could let go of, or at least lessen, perhaps by letting yourself go.
I let myself go.
In loving memory of our parents, Ed and Liz.
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**Please consider reposting this to your Facebook page, and asking your friends to do the same. Again, I think if we all let ourselves go a bit more, we could hang on to each other better. **
I know a 100-year old woman who is writing the story of her amazing life. She has been through a spell of illness lately, and when she was still recovering, she said she was only taking life one day at a time. She wasn’t sure if she should think far enough ahead to consider completing her book.
Now, several weeks after returning home from a protracted hospital and skilled nursing home stay, she is ready to keep telling her story. She says she can see further down the road now.
Just before she turned 100, she said, “There is a lady down the street who is 102. I want to get to know her, and ask her how she does it.”
“Lucy,” I said to her, “You are already doing it.”
I want to be like her when I grow up.
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It seems just a few years ago that I gave birth to my boys. Now they are both over six feet tall, and both married.
Jude and Olivia were home to get married and will soon return to the other side of the world. Soon thereafter–hopefully within a few more years–they will return home to the United States to stay. I wish them Godspeed on their return trip and as they embark on the journey of marriage. They are off to a good start.
Next week, Gail will turn 64 years young. It was just four short years ago that we celebrated her 60th birthday, right before Covid shut the world down. Gail, I know, is never really going to age, and growing up is optional for her. She remains young at heart, and that is what matters. We will celebrate her birthday in grand style on our upcoming Colorado trip in two weeks.
I will be 58 years young in a few months and Suzanne will be 54 this summer. In my mind, it seems these pictures were taken perhaps just 20 years ago–or so.
I have little tolerance for anyone who complains about turning another year older, or lying about their age to make themselves seem younger. “Age is a gift,” I tell them. As we all know, not everyone gets to have more birthdays. My only complaint is that as the giant clock of time continues to speed up its pace, they keep coming around too soon. I picture the hands on this master clock beginning to loosen and fly off because they are spinning too fast. I’m not sure how this happens, but I agree with this observation: The hours and days may drag by, but the months and years fly by. And, as a wise woman once explained to me, this increasing pace works like this: When you are ten years old, time moves ten miles per hour. When you are twenty, it moves twenty mph. When you are thirty…and on and on. You get the idea.
This year, we are given the gift of one extra day. Leap on it, and enjoy. And, if you know Gail, send her good wishes on Wednesday for finishing another trip around the sun.
It’s always a popular subject, and lately, it’s been something to talk about.
Today, after almost two weeks of cloudy–maybe there was one day of sun in there, I can’t remember, the sun is shining. Glory. Be. Hallelujah.
We have had almost two weeks of clouds along with intermittent rain, snow upon snow, sub-zero temperatures, wind with dangerous—as in life-threatening–wind chills, ice, sleet and fog. It did make for some pretty pictures, but that’s about it in my book.
My soul was almost drained dry, but today, as the sun shines bright in my window as I write, I am redeemed. Filled up. Refreshed and renewed. I am solar-powered, and my batteries are recharging. As I mentioned in a previous post, my favorite weather is Florida. January, then, is my least favorite month.
Not so for Gail and Suzanne, both of whom embrace almost any weather, especially the wind.
I bought this cozy shirt on our Florida trip to remind me of the beach when it is cold here.
When I lived in Philadelphia, I met my dear friend Carol. She peppered her speech with Yiddish words, lovingly calling me a “meshugana.” It is Yiddish for “crazy girl,” and I took it as a compliment. I am now calling my wind-loving sisters both “meshuganas, and it is not a compliment.
I asked them for their input for this post, and this is what Suzanne offered: “It was okay to get married in it because I was so in love. I was oblivious to everything around me. I’m still in love, but I loathe and despise the cold weather. The wind, however, is always welcome.”
Suzanne got married in February 2021 during a cold snap much like the one we just had.
And from Gail: “You know me, I’m an all-weather kind of gal. I appreciate the ferocity of a good storm, whether it be snow, rain, thunder or WIND. There’s nothing you can do to change it. Embrace it as I have said before. Storms are perhaps God’s way of reminding us of His power.”
At one point, Gail said, “I love the wind so much, I’m thinking of changing my name to ‘Gail Force Wind.'”
Meshuganas.
Enough about the weather. It is a topic best for when there is nothing else to talk about and there is plenty we can talk about today.
Let’s start with wishing that man Suzanne is still in love with (I just threw up in my mouth a little bit) a happy birthday today. Another trip around the sun is always something to talk about.
And, our dear mother would have celebrated her 87th birthday last Monday. In our own ways, we still celebrate her birthday.
On that same day, my sweet future daughter-in-law Olivia celebrated her birthday as well. They will get married this Saturday in Omaha and we are so thrilled to welcome her into our family. And, back to the weather, it is predicted to be 41 degrees and partly cloudy. For Nebraska in February, that’s weather to talk about.
Suzanne’s daughter will celebrate her birthday next week, another trip around the sun for her, another reason to celebrate.
Our home state of Kansas celebrates it’s 163rd birthday tomorrow, January 29th. We are born and raised Kansas girls, and while we enjoy visiting the Sunshine State, our hearts will always be in the Sunflower State. That is something to talk about and something to be proud of.
This picture jogs my memory: I just realized I need to get my Kansas day outfit ready for tomorrow.
Here’s a blast from the recent past-try to ignore Suzanne’s shirt…
And–one of my favorite days of the year is this Friday: Groundhog Day! We will celebrate by attending a wedding rehearsal, but I always sneak in another viewing of one of my favorite movies: Groundhog Day. If you haven’t seen it, check it out. It has a great message.
While I am not a football fan, I realize our almost-hometown NFL boys are something to talk about. As I write upstairs with the splendid sunshine pouring in the windows, my husband is hunkered down in the basement watching the Kansas City Chiefs battle the Baltimore Ravens in the playoff game that will grant a Super Bowl berth to the winner. I am hopeful they can pull it off again to go to Super Bowl 58. I am not a fan per se, but I will always know how old the Super Bowl is because it was born the same year I was.
If the Chiefs were matched up against the Philadelphia Eagles as they were last year in the Super Bowl, I may have to reconsider my allegiance. We watched the Super Bowl last year and I wore both red and green to show my divided support. I did spend a few weekends just down the road in Baltimore while I lived in Philadelphia, so I’m feeling just a bit of allegiance to the Ravens as well.
As in all sports, may the best team win. No matter who wins today, or in the Super Bowl, that’s always something to talk about long afterward, as well as before, and during…
And speaking of competitions, The Spell-It Sisters will not have the opportunity to bring home the gold again at the annual Neighbor-to-Neighbor Spelling Bee in my beloved Abilene. With our neighbor Jordan’s help on our team, we won last year and placed the year before, but we will be attending a much more important event: Jude and Olivia’s wedding. Next year we will be back, a force to be reckoned with once again.
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On January 1st, My friend Carol called me. She wanted to start the new year off right, so she went through her phone contacts to get back in touch with old friends, and I’m so glad she did. We laughed about me being a meshugana, and about how it was beshert–fate–that we were neighbors in Philadelphia. She has since moved to south Florida from Philadelphia. She reads this blog, and frequently posts wonderful comments. It has been over 30 years since we have seen each other, and that is too long. She was my across-the-street-neighbor-turned-friend, and those are the kind to keep for life. She loves Florida weather like I do, and has invited me to visit her anytime.
That’s something I need to talk seriously to myself about.
There are so many other connections I need to make in the next few months. Those 52 lunch dates I had in this book I finally finished (see “52 Thanksgiving Lunches,” December 3rd, 2023) each get a copy. I have reconnected with some, but the rest are patiently waiting for theirs. We will again have a lot to talk about. And, there are others not in the book I want to visit. Again, lots to talk about.
As I age, I find my circle of friends and acquaintances getting smaller. Gail and Suzanne agree. This is by choice, we realize. It is hard to keep up with everyone from our pasts, and further, we find that not everyone fits into our lives like they used to. Furthermore, I no longer want them to.
A quote I heard a long time ago has stuck with me: Not every relationship is supposed to last forever. I know this to be true, and this is not a bad thing. Age gives us the gift of insight, and makes us more aware of the value of what is important to us, especially relationships. Our sense of time passage also sharpens, and we (should) realize it is a gift not granted. Nor is good health, nor is there a guarantee that the people we want to see again someday will be there someday. Most of us can make more money, but none of us can make more time. Spend them both wisely, especially time. And while you’re at it, talk to yourself about those trips you have always wanted to take…
Two separate gifts, one from each of my two wise sisters…
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It is now 5:38 pm, and the Chiefs have officially sealed the deal: they are headed back to the Super Bowl. This is big stuff and people will be talking about until then, and long after. After all, it is more exciting than talking about the weather.
Go Chiefs…Happy Birthday Steve, Julia, Mom and Olivia…Happy Kansas Day…Congratulations Jude and Olivia. ..get out there and talk to those people who are still important in your life…and maybe travel a bit, too. The Sisters of The Sister Lode plan to do both.
Is it the most wonderful time of the year? That depends.
It depends on who you are are, what you do to celebrate, what your Christmas memories are, what your hopes and dreams are, or maybe what you believe.
Or maybe it is where you are in your life at this time, this year, this week, this moment.
Maybe it is a faith-filled, magical season of wonder, or maybe it is the saddest time of the year.
Maybe it is all the above.
Maybe it is a sample, a capsule of life in general, which means it is indeed a wide-range of feelings and emotions. Good and bad. Dark and light. Hopeful and despairing. Sad and happy.
So this is your Christmas. What have you done? Whatever it is, I hope it has brought you peace.
We’ve done a few fun things in 2023…The Sisters of The Sister Lode made more great memories, as shown in this photo montage from previous posts throughout the year:
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Our family gathered Friday night to celebrate the best gift we all got collectively on Christmas Eve 1973: our youngest sibling, our brother Ryan was born. It was the big 5-0, and it was time to throw a party.
Almost all of Mom’s Magnificent Seven were present:
Sometimes, we all need to lighten up a bit…
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When the days seem so short and the nights seem so long, we must remember that Mother Nature is always there to remind us of the beauty all around us. She continues to show off with her splendid Kansas sunrises,
and her magnificent Kansas sunsets.
Now that the winter solstice passed just three days ago, there will be more daylight between these dawns and dusks. This, perhaps, is one of the greatest gifts of the Christmas season for me.
There is another bright light shining in my life. My son, Jude, is home from the other side of the world, and he brought a huge bonus along: our delightful future daughter-in-law, Olivia.
We took a field trip to my beloved Abilene, Kansas last week. We toured the regionally famous Seelye Mansion and the world-famous Eisenhower Museum. Jude had seen them, but Olivia hadn’t. They are both local treasures almost in our backyard, so they were must-sees. However, the original purpose of our trip was for another reason.
Brandon, the tattoo artist extraordinaire, is there. Jude’s overseas work visa requires that he leaves the country every six months. Twice, he and his traveling buddies celebrated their freedom while traveling over July 4th: they all got tattoos with the equivalent of “liberty” first in Arabic, then the next year in Thai.
It was time to get it here in the local language:
And what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t get one with the same message?
I am both free and anchored.
Olivia, in her beautiful, flowery way, got this on her forearm:
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It may perhaps be the most wonderful time of the year. It may, however, take some work to overcome the trials and struggles of the year, but the certainty of a new dawn is always there; Mother Nature has yet to renege on that promise. And the daylight always increases after December 21st. Always.
Birthdays–big and small–come every year, and they are gifts, too.
Happy memories of the past year are there for the taking, focusing on those versus the sadness is always a good prescription.
We all have a certain degree of both freedom and being anchored, so make the best of both.
The beauty of a flower, whether it is from Mother Nature’s art or on Olivia’s arm from Brandon’s art, is always a gift.
May this indeed be the most wonderful time of the year for you.
Merry Christmas from the Sisters of The Sister Lode
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.
I’m pretty sure I know why my house shook Friday night. Sure, technically, it was an earthquake. A 4.0 on the Richter Scale, with the epicenter about three miles from my house, according to official seismology reports. This is caused by the tectonic plates shifting under the ground, causing the shaking, rattling and a few things rolling in my house .
At almost the same time one week before that last Friday night, there was a smaller one–a 3.4 on the Richter Scale. According to online sources, there typically is no damage to be expected under 5.0. Whew. However, I still feel a bit scarred from the shock of it all.
Imagine the loudest, most powerful thunder clap directly above your house, and how it causes the windows to rattle, and the feeling that the walls are shaking. Take that times five, and that’s what it felt like to me two nights ago. I was home alone, so my husband cannot corroborate, but my neighbors gave similar descriptions.
Now, the scientific explanation appears to be the Humboldt fault line east of my home, which has been known to cause even larger earthquakes in this part of Kansas, but I don’t recall anything stronger than what I felt Friday at 6:18 p.m.
I believe in science; I am a speech scientist by definition. I believe in professionally studied bodies of knowledge. However, I would like to offer a non-scientific cause for Friday night’s quake: Gail went home from work not feeling well, and the earth was knocked off its axis. Gail is never sick. And it happened on the same day. She had to drop at least a few of those plates she continually keeps spinning, and this caused the tectonic plates under the earth to shift, thus causing the earthquake.
Coincidence? I think not.
Knowing Gail like I do, I’m sticking with my own explanation. And, if you know Gail, you have to give it at least some consideration. And, just like after the earthquake, Gail was back to normal in no time.
Typically, when I write a blog post and I write anything about my sisters–which is most posts, I run it by them before I post it. This one, however, is news to Gail. I didn’t ask for her permission, because she would be too humble to give it.
Gail is my big sister, and one of the biggest pillars of strength I lean upon. She has been a long-time collector of all things Rosie the Riveter, which spurred me to do the same. I even dressed as Rosie on Halloween just 12 days ago.
Our mother possessed a quiet strength, a powerful grace that silently lifted up everyone around her. Gail, however, is not so silent. She uses her body and her voice to make things happen, and to show others that they can, too.
Suzanne, my younger sister, possesses a fierce breed of will to get through tough times and to create laughter in the easier times. Sometimes, she even makes people laugh in the darkest of times, and this, too, is a gift. I look up to her for her strength, even though she is four years younger than me.
Gail, as the appointed matriarch of the family since Mom’s passing, has carried this torch and kept it burning bright. She continues to offer her inspiration not only to her little sisters, but to anyone around her who needs it.
Need strength? Just take some from Gail; she’ll make more. Need inspiration or insight? Same. She possesses an inexhaustible supply.
Which, I know, is where I got an extra-large, heaping portion of all three above to step out of my comfort zone and enter a 90% male-dominated field. I can do it, I had to say to my self many times. I tried to talk Gail into joining me; we would make a great auctioneer duo. I haven’t given up on her yet.
Gail belongs to an elite club of other inspirational women, many of whom I have had the pleasure of meeting in this field.
I told you several posts ago in September that I may have the opportunity to take a stunt plane ride that week. It didn’t pan out, but the president of the U.S. National Aerobatic Association–stunt pilots–promised it to me next year when I call bids for the auction at their national convention held in my small city each year.
My auctioneer mentor, Curt, helped me with that auction, and saw a great “Girl Power” photo op for me with the considerable number of female stunt pilots in attendance.
On Monday and Tuesday of this week, I had the opportunity to go to nearby Kansas City for the Women’s Summit of the National Auction Association, a meeting of brilliant female minds and indomitable spirits of women in the auction industry from all over the country.
Not coincidentally–just like Gail’s illness, I received a gift from Gwenna, a fellow thrifting friend this week. She knows what I love–she brought me this hand-painted work of art from a local thrift shop.
And, finally, after several years of waiting for a good time to make sure the round table in my basement would be open for at least a week, I started and finished this puzzle, a gift from Gail.
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I believe that women lifting up other women–whether it is one-to-one or a large group lifting each other up, or in the case of the stunt pilots who inspire others by physically lifting themselves up, is always a beautiful thing.
I am so fortunate to have so many Rosies in my life–especially Gail and Suzanne. I hope you have at least one Rosie to lift you up, and that you share your Rosie-ness with other women in your life who will benefit from your strength.
Once again, Mother Nature has been showing off with her splendid fall colors.
She’s not fooling me though; I’m not falling for it. She’s pulled this trick on me for the last 56 years, and she’s at it again. Oh, sure, she makes it so gorgeous outside, what with the brilliant autumn hues on the trees, all the oranges and yellows, still some greens, even some reds. When she feels really smug, she throws in full sun and little to no wind. Soon, however, she will turn all the leaves brown, they will leave the trees bare, and the sky will be mostly gray for too long.
I’m on to her, and I’m not happy about her little trick. She woos us all with the beauty, sucks us all in with the splendor and then boom! It’s cold, windy and snowy again–just as it has been this weekend.
It is almost November in Kansas, however, so this should be nothing new to me. Still, every year it gets a little harder for me to let go of my beloved summer, because my favorite kind of weather is Florida.
As it does every fall, however, Colorado beckons us with its own breed of fall splendor with the aspens and their golden performance. Unfortunately, as with most trips west, Suzanne stayed behind to avoid the altitude sickness that typically plagues her. Plus, we had returned from our epic Florida trip just a few weeks before that (see previous post), and I just about stayed home myself. But, um, it’s Colorado. It was time to go west, even though we had just been east.
So, Gail and I went with our special guest: her daughter Lydia. She came along last year and remembered too well how much fun it is, so she joined us again. She is a delightful travel companion.
Our favorite mountain town destination welcomed us warmly once again. And, as is typically the case, none of us came home with extra money. However, we sure had fun trying. The aspens were a bit past their prime splendor, but they were still breathtakingly beautiful.
As they typically do when Gail and I travel together, Bonnie and Judy came along, too.
Returning home, the fall colors reminded me that there is a special part of fall that I love to partake of: milo harvest on the farm.
I typically visit during the wheat harvest, but Mother Nature, being the temperamental and scheming weather goddess she is, denied the wheat the moisture it needed throughout most of the growing season. Sadly, there was no wheat harvest last summer. Mercifully, however, there was an insurance check for most farmers who were affected by the drought, my brothers included.
The milo harvest has its own offerings, even when the drought kept the crop from reaching its full potential. I had the pleasure of riding in the combine with my nephew,
and taking the big rig to the elevator with the trailer full of grain with my brother.
The sun was shining, and the leaves were as beautifully aglow as they could possibly be. I stopped to take pictures along the way, and I even cruised Main Street in our hometown on my way home.
In north-central Kansas where our family farm is, and throughout most of the Midwest, the reds and greens take on another significance as well: most of the combines and tractors are either red or green. If, like ours, they are red, then they are indeed the best choice. Green, in the history of our family farm, has been the inferior color. If you have a farm background, then you know this is the age-old good-natured disagreement. You may beg to differ, so go ahead and differ. We are holding firm to the red.
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Black and white are two more colors I need to mention as well: Halloween is next week, and there are a few iconic pictures I’d like to re-post from our Colorado trip four years ago on Halloween:
Speaking of black and white, we took in some local culture in Cripple Creek we hadn’t yet seen–we visited the Teller County Jail Museum.
Lydia, with her millenial wisdom, was able once again to deejay our ritual song as we drive through the Rocky Mountains on our way there, just as she did last year. No CD player? No problem! No signal? No problem! She made it work.
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There isn’t much reality in our crazy world that is truly black and white, but in the The Sister Lode, we’d like to offer these truths–as we see them:
* Cripple Creek, and every other gambling town is not built on winners, so don’t ever plan on walking away with money from any casino. It’s a bonus if you do.
* Traveling, if you have any desire to do so, should be a priority. There is so much to see out there, so many places to go. Take your sisters along, if possible.
*Mother Nature, after her worst tirades, returns to Mother Nurture. The sun always shines again, and eventually it does rain again.
*Consider that your black and white may be someone else’s gray, and we respect your choice if it is green and not our beloved red.
*Leaving your leftovers outside in a soft-side cooler overnight in the mountainsis never a good idea.
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Happy Halloween from the Sisters of The Sister Lode–and Lydia too.
Perhaps with the deliriousness all three of us felt after waking up at four a.m. to catch our 6:30 flight to begin our trip.
Or maybe the shout-out on this flight from the captain to the three sisters of another Southwest Airlines captain–our brother David. Of course, we milked it with our hands raised high and whoop-whooping to be sure to be recognized. Pretty sure no one else cared. This was the only flight of the four when we got to sit together.
Maybe it is Gail’s unique way of making new friends on such a trip: when two gentlemen walked by our shared patio in our condo en route to theirs, casually asking, “hey, what’s going on?” while we sat visiting with a delightful group of ladies from Indiana in another condo, Gail replied: “None of your f****** business!” Of course, this immediately made them want to join the group. She laughed, said she was only joking, and they sat to visit as well.
Maybe it is Gail’s way of taking the reins, no matter what the situation.
Captain Ron played right along, in control the entire time. He is the son of her daughter Abby’s boyfriend, so we had that connection. He left northern Michigan where Abby and his dad live for warmer weather. He lives in Fort Myers and captains his boat in the bay and the Gulf there, a short jaunt south of St. Pete, where we stayed. He took us on an unforgettable sunset cruise.
He knew just how to coax the playful dolphins out of the water in the wake behind his boat, and we were treated to this magnificent sight:
Or maybe it’s Suzanne’s dramatic/comedic streak:
The drive was beautiful as well.
Maybe it was Suzanne and Gail’s success with talking me into parasailing for my first time, their second–they did it seven years ago, but I was too chicken.
Maybe all the good food and drink,
Or maybe it is simply the time together at this paradise.
I mentioned in our last post that some locals we met there seven years ago just might remember us. There was at least one who did. This shouldn’t surprise you. The rest probably weren’t working when we happened to be in their restaurants or places of business where we met them last time. Next time we go back, chances are the people we met this time will remember us–especially Gail.
We have vowed not to wait seven years again, not that that much time would dull their memories of us.
Now, being Kansas girls, we know about hot weather. Any kind of weather, really, except hurricanes. Gail and Suzanne still long to have the opportunity to have a hurricane party, but it was not meant to be. We did, however, see some remnants of Hurricane Ian from last year in Fort Myers.
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I hadn’t flown in six years, and my fear of flying didn’t come roaring back this time. Aside from squeezing Gail and Suzanne’s hands as I sat between them on our first take-off, I felt pretty brave.
Between flying in the airplane and parasailing, I’m feeling brave enough to accept the challenge I have been offered this week: a free ride in a stunt plane. I’ll fill you in on that later if I actually have the guts to see that one through.
After all the fun we had, I actually have a fear of not flying now. I am ready to go back, and Gail and Suzanne are too. I am ready for more gallivanting by land or by air, just take me there–especially with my sisters.
The Sister Lode 