Wander to the Wayside

Holy Crap ...

2012-01-07T21:58:00.002-05:00

First, let me say HOLY CRAP, I can't believe it's been six months since I last posted! Don't know how that has happened, but let me assure you that I have continued to read everyone on my blog list. I'm still having some problems commenting, even if I use the anonymous option, but I do read you all.

The next HOLY CRAP is that I didn't wish everyone happy holidays and happy new year. So to one and all, a belated Happy Holidays and Happy New Year! I hope 2012 brings many good things to all of us (especially good health and money)!

The main reason for this HOLY CRAP post is something that happened yesterday with my two grandsons, ages 6 and 8, and the phrase holy crap was repeated many times by me. It was about 5pm and they had been out in front of the house, going up and down the street on bikes, skateboards, and pogo sticks with some other kids, and I checked on them every 15 minutes or so. What usually happens is that I either make a visual check thru the window, or if I can't see them I step outside and listen for their voices, which are usually coming from either the house next door or two across the street where they have friends. I know the kids and the families, so I don't generally worry. There's a little concern that Conner is only 6 and the boys that he and Garrett play with are 10, but we've lived here for six years and they've known him since he was a baby and generally watch out for him, so the main problem is that he thinks he can do anything that they do!

Anyway, yesterday when I realized that they were no longer going up and down the street, I went out into the yard to see where they had disappeared to. I began hollering their names, and eventually they popped up at a yard at the end of the street and waved at me. I thought they were at a house at the 'dirt road' on the end of the street where I'm a passing acquaintance with a lady from the school, where our street turns to the right toward the cul-de-sac.  I hollered at them that they should have told  me where they were going, and then let it go. My daughter called a few minutes later to say she was on the way, so I decided to go ahead and call them home...

and they were nowhere to be seen or heard. Nothing. I yelled until I was hoarse, but nothing. I had been sick for several days and was weak as a kitten (I think it's my thyroiditis flaring up), so I was in my pajamas with no make up on and my hair pinned up and all over the place. After yelling for what seemed forever, I ran in the house and put my jeans and shoes on and headed down the street to the dirt road area, which is four houses away (that seemed like a dozen).

If you have read me for any time at all, you know that we have an area behind our subdivision that is wooded, and where we have taken the boys for hiking and exploring. There's a trickle of a stream that floods when it rains, and though it's not a huge spookey area, it is a good distance from the house and wooded and, oh, did I mention that THEY ARE NEVER SUPPOSED TO GO THERE WITHOUT AN ADULT???

So I went to the dirt road at the house where I thought they were, and two men in the driveway said they hadn't noticed which way they'd gone, and their kids were in the house. I stood there at the dirt road that leads to the woods and began a frantic screaming for the boys. Nothing. More frantic screaming, turning round and round so that my voice would carry in all directions. Garrett, Conner! Where the hell are you? Where did you go? Why can't you hear me? Pa-leeeeze, where are you????

Finally, off in the distance in the direction of the woods, I saw a flash of white shirt and heard a far, far away voice. Filled with both relief and anger, my screaming became Are you kidding me? What the hell are you doing over there? Get your butts over here immediately! Run as fast as your feet can carry you! What the hell were you thinking?  When they finally got near enough for me to actually hear them and they me, my anger was just overwhelming. My heart was beating so fast I thought I'd drop dead right there, and blood roared in my ears so loud I was almost deaf except for the screaming of my own voice. What the hell were you thinking? You know you're never supposed to go in there by yourselves! On what planet do you take a six year old boy into the woods without an adult? Bla bla bla ...

By now both boys are crying hysterically and Garrett's saying I'm sorry! and asking me why am I screaming, and telling me that he thought I knew where they were. What? Knew where they were? Was I unconscious when he came home and said Mawmaw, Conner and I are going to go by ourselves down the dirt road and into the woods and down to the creek? Of course he knew that that made no sense, but by that point I think we were all three in a state of hysteria, them at being in trouble and listening to me scream at them as we walked/ran home, and me at the idea of how easily this could have had a bad ending. (And let me say here that the lapse of time from when I first called them home until the time they came out of the woods was the longest 15-20 minutes of my life.)

As I neared the house, an older girl, maybe 10 or 11, came up from behind me saying m'am, m'am! She's new to the neighborhood, and though I had seen her walking home from school I really had no idea who she was. She ran up to me as we got to the house and apologized, saying it was her fault. (Apparently she had walked out of the woods more slowly and had waited until my rant subsided before she showed herself!)  Said that she's new in the neighborhood and that Garrett had mentioned the creek and she asked if he could show her. Didn't know that they didn't have permission. I thanked her for her apology, said that she had no way of knowing he didn't have permission, that Garrett knew better, and that she should never go there by herself and especially without telling anyone where she was going!

When we finally got into the house, these two little boys still crying and me shaking like a leaf, I said horrid things like Do you realize that every week there's a story on the news about a child being kidnapped and either hurt or murdered? About little kids that ride off on their bikes without saying where they're going and never coming back? About parents who turn their backs for ten seconds and never see their kid again? Do you have any idea how badly you scared me?

Well, by the time Melody got here a few minutes later, Garrett was sitting at the computer and Conner was totally wrapped in a blanket and laying on the couch crying, and I was sitting at the kitchen table trying to slow my heart beat down. Melody was on her phone and didn't realize for a few minutes that something was going on, so when I finally was able to tell her the story she was very disappointed in her boys! She handled it better than me, scolded them calmly but sternly, telling Garrett that she was disappointed that he had made such a bad decision, making her realize that he needed to be better supervised until he could make better ones. That they were both grounded to their yard or mine and could not leave them until further notice.

And I had to apologize to her for letting it happen, for being an unreliable caregiver, both of us knowing, of course, that these things happen under the best of circumstances, that we lucked out this time. And I'm thinking back to when she was a girl, about four or five years old, and disappeared on our street while playing with neighborhood kids, and they had gone to a field at the end of the street - where she was never supposed to go! At that time there seemed to have been a rash of kidnappings and deaths across the country, and particularly one where the child had been dumped in one of those roadside porta potties on a mountain road in Colorado. So I recognized this fear as the same I had felt at that time! And, of course, last night I had the same kind of dreams that I had had then.

One thing that I keep thinking about is - I do not know my neighbors. I know the ones on either side of me and across the street, but all the others are phantom neighbors who pull into their garages when they get home from work and just as silently leave the next day. Who are they and why are they so anonymous? Do they have kids, how many, how old? Are any of them unbalanced? Do they watch any kids that are in their visual range for safety sake, like I do? I feel like I need to go door to door to check everybody out, to know who is interacting with my grandsons, and who I can go to if one of the boys seems to have disappeared!

Well, there's not a parent alive who hasn't gone thru some version of a child disappearing, if even for just a few minutes, and experienced that cold fear that grips you so quickly, so primitively and to the gut. I know I won't soon forget those long fifteen minutes and the fear that gripped me.

And I don't think the boys will soon forget the vision of their Mawmaw looking like a wild woman going down the street, screaching at the top of her lungs, and probably were a bit shocked at all the cuss words she forgot she wasn't supposed to use in front of them!

Of course, it doesn't stop at childhood, does it? They're on a date and 30 minutes late getting home and forget to call. Or off riding around with friends. Oh gosh, the first time they take the car for a drive by themselves! I'll never forget the first time Melody drove all the way to Colorado from Georgia by herself! What about you? Do you have one of these lost or late kid stories?

Riverbend 2011

2011-07-27T16:49:00.000-04:00

I've told you the last few years about Chattanooga's annual Riverbend Festival (see Labels), nine nights of music in June for $30 (we went on five different nights - still a bargain!). All you have to do is get there and park, and enjoy the main act or any of a number of other musical acts on smaller stages. It's all about family and friends enjoying time together, and watching the teenagers walking around like peacocks strutting their stuff. I won't go into a lot of detail again here, except to say that this year we went to see Miranda Lambert (Melody and I went by ourselves and spent most of the stormy night sitting under a bridge and only saw 30 minutes of miranda before the lightening closed her down), Alan Jackson, the Beach boys (with John Stamos on drums!), Kellie Pickler, and Huey Lewis and the news.

The most fun part for Conner is always the children's playground.

But this is what he escaped into during the music ... his DS.

The first night was unbearbly hot, so Garrett enjoyed the misting machine.

Garrett is into bracelets, and his old hippi g'parents were proud of his choice!

One of our favorite things - the sundown view of gathering boats.

We tried to control our eating this year - settled for sharing some chicken-on-a stick. Delicious !

Garrett and Pawpaw sharing a grin.

Melody and my favorite(only) son-in-law.

Since the festival is actually in downtown Chattanooga, the kids get to enjoy some of the activities like the pipe fountain and 'swimming' on the steps and under the bridge, a regular summer attraction.

Fireworks on the last night ...

This is most likely the last year he get's this special treatment!

Can't wait to see who'll be here next year! Whoever it is, we'll be there ...

(A final note ... I AM SO FED UP WITH BLOGGER!!! I have spent more time than I care to admit with one frustration after another trying to do this post, including slow movement and pauses from one spot to another or one letter to another, and just now when I published it, it came out with miles of space between photos and paragraphs! Seriously? Every time I came back from being in drafts I had to go thru this same thing, and it's just pissing me off! Is anyone else having trouble? And we won't even talk about the commenting thing ...)

Garrett's 8th Birthday, Feb. 16,2011

2011-07-11T12:54:00.000-04:00

(I was going to put this in its proper spot in February and just do a link here, but blogger won't let me do that, so I'll post it here and then move it later! If you haven't read the previous post, I missed some postings this last six months for one reason or another, and want to back-track and get them on here.)

February 16, 2011, my first born grandson, Garrett, turned eight years old. Conner (the five year old) and I made the cake, with him doing the sprinkles (which, as you can see, all went on one spot!), and we had the usual small family dinner on the day.

My daughter Melody and I have always had a pet peeve about those elaborate, expensive parties that have been the trend over the years, and she swore to never do one. Until this year. For some reason, she decided to do what Garrett said he'd like to do for his birthday...go to one of those bowling alley/arcade games places (the name escapes me) like Chuck E.Cheese. So off we go with eight little boys (and about ten adults) for a couple of hours of fun. I don't know if you've ever been to one of these places, but they're a huge warehouse affair with rooms for different activities, each planned down to the minute and guided by an appointed host or hostess. And between the screaming kids and the pings and musics of the games, they're very noisy!

The table they provided was really cute, and a nice touch was that they had all the guests sign the bowling pin for the birthday boy to take home.

The pizza was delicious, and luckily (and happily) there was enough for the adults as well, as we were starving! The snack bar was outrageously expensive, and you wonder how some families can afford it these days (much like going to the movies).

They had only bowled a few minutes when the hostess rounded everybody up and said that they had to get to the other activities, but could come back to the bowling later.

You can't go wrong with bumper cars! But they were only alloted maybe five or ten minutes, so by the time they got the hang of it, it was time to move on.

I'm not sure what this was - oh, Conner says laser tag, but for some reason I thought they had real nurf balls or something, but what do I know! (Or maybe I've got my photos confused, and this is actually from the next game...)

You definitely can't go wrong with laser guns! I had to take an extra seizure pill to go in here to take photos, but it was worth it to be able to watch the hunters (though I will admit that I had to leave after a few minutes as I got so sick to my stomach that I had to sit on the bench outside and hope I didn't throw up!). Conner has tried to explain both of the games to me, but all I hear is bla bla bla ...)

Back to the bowling alley, the boys ate cupcakes while Garrett opened his gifts, and here he is reading his card from us which said that I would take him to buy the skate board he's been wanting. He was so excited, even after I told him that it wouldn't be one of those $200 fancy ones! ( I had a photo of him looking excitedly at me with a huge smile, but forgot to upload it and don't know how to add it in the middle of a post!)

Would a birtday party be complete without a game room? Apparently not! So noisy that you want to run screaming from the place, but that would be showing your age, and the kids don't seem to notice. In fact, it seems that louder is better to them (as demonstrated when they turn the volume up full blast on their ds and online video games, with a 'tune' that plays over and over and over ad nauseum).

More guns! Good grief! (And that's my husband, David, in the background.)

This is the aspect of this whole arcade thing that DRIVES ME CRAZY (that's Garrett's friend Jake above), as I'm sure it does many adults. You pay something like $10 and more for tokens to play these games. The kids will be over the moon when they score on a game and get TICKETS (which,basically, you already paid for), lots and lots of tickets. Then they excitedly take these tickets up to the counter, eyes shining bright with the anticipation of what things they will 'buy' with these tickets. They totally don't get that they (you) paid the $10 or $20 (or, good grief, $30) to play the games that produced these tickets...only to be able to trade them in for a 5 cent plastic something that will end up in the recycleables a few days later (if it lasts that long), or a piece of candy that will be gone in seconds. Well, just call me Mrs. Scrooge!

I guess the important thing is that the boys had a super good time, and this sculpter of an elk(?) outside in front of the store next door just topped it off! I'm sure he'll not soon forget this special celebration of his birthday, nor will mom and dad soon forget how much it ended up costing!

And the skate board - picked out with care and still being enjoyed. He looked on the computer to read about the care and feeding of his new possession, and went to a skating park to learn the rules and some techniques. His goal is to be as good as Tony Hawke someday, and our hope is that he doesn't break any bones along the way! If only we could wrap them in cottom batting on this journey thru boyhhood...

What is the most elaborate/expensive birthday party you had for your kids, or that your kids went to, or that was your own birthday celebration? Do you have a party in your memory that stands out as one that has stood the test of time?

back-tracking

2011-06-30T23:38:00.009-04:00

(birthday present from my cousin Nancy in May)

You may have noticed that I haven't been here in a while, and before that only sporadically! The biggest reason has been that I have just been totally empty in the brain department, at least the part of the brain that writes posts. We've been under a lot of financial stress lately, and for some reason this has erased the part of my brain that creates posts for my blog. (I have, however, been reading you guys. I'm not always able to comment as I've got some kind of crazy computer or blogger thing going on where it won't take my comments, or only under anonymous, or, as some of you know, I've commented by email on occasion.)

In looking back thru my photos today, I realized that I have been selling myself short. I keep thinking that I need to be creative, or entertaining, or enlightening. But what I realized (and what you guys have actually told me before) is that I could just be journaling my daily or weekly events whether they were interesting to anyone else or not! I know I enjoy reading other posts where they are just talking about the minutiae of their lives, so why can't I? Well, of course, the answer is that I can! And I will!

What I realized, also, as I was looking thru the photos, is that I have photos of several events in my grandsons lives that I didn't post or write about, and phases in my garden as the last few months have passed, of the tornado damage, and even some cute doggie photos, all of which should be in my blog when I decide to print it up for the boys to read someday. Sooo, if you will bear with me, I'm going to go back thru those photos of the last few months and do individual posts on those individual events, instead of doing one of my 'if I had been posting' posts, so that I don't regret letting them pass on by with no notice.

Now, if I just don't procrastinate until the end of the summer to get those posts started ...

Much to be thankful for ...

2011-05-01T11:00:00.003-04:00

I have much to be thankful for this first Sunday in May. Last Wednesday, April 27, parts of my town of Ringgold, Georgia were mangled and in many instances destroyed by an EF 4 tornado. A short fifteen minute drive from my home and my daughter's, Ringgold is where we do most of our business - my grocery store, bank, chiropractor, pharmacy, beauty shop, etc. - and there are many lovely older homes. Eight members of our community, four from one family, were killed.

But here at my home we simply had very high winds and much lightening. My husband was out of town, leaving me home alone with three dogs, a hamster, and a fish, and me trying to figure out, amidst the many watches and warnings, how I was going to get a muzzle on the forever battling Eva Jean and Charity, or attach little Oliver to my body (maybe put him inside my shirt?), and getting the four of us in the tub, in a split second. Melody and I were in touch every little bit via text and phone calls, but the four minutes between our homes seemed very far indeed under the circumstances. After one of our calls I told her with a catch in my throat that I loved her, and she, with a shaky chuckle, said she loved me, too. Neither wanting to voice the real fear beneath the surface, that 'just in case this is the last time ...' fear.

Meanwhile, Julie at Midlife Jobhunter was worrying about her son, Ian, who is a freshman at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa. And Dinah at My Aimless Infatuation was dealing with her own fears near heavily damaged Rainsville, Alabama. I'm glad to report that they are both fine, and I'm sure Julie and Dinah will both have a post soon on their experience with this historical storm.

We still aren't allowed into Ringgold because of the damage. In the meantime, as I walked my yard this weekend, my heart was full of wonder at how lucky I am to have an intact yard, especially in light of seeing the forever changed landscapes on the news. I took these photos before the storm, but all remain as you see here. Spared. And I am so grateful.

(As a side note...can you find the camouflaged object in this snow photo?)

If I had been posting, Part 2

2011-01-13T10:17:00.018-05:00

If I had been posting, I would have told you that I had been having computer problems since Nov. 11. Those computer issues have been resolved, and for the first time in two months I can start posting again! I don't have anything prepared right now, but I just wanted to check in and say a belated HAPPY THANKSGIVING, MERRY CHRISTMAS, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I look forward to catching up with everybody, and want to thank those of you who checked in on me while I was 'gone'. It was very frustrating to not be 'connected' with my internet friends, though I did do some quick reads when I had a chance to get on my husband's business computer for a few minutes here and there. Since the beginning of my computer problems, there was Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, two snows, and miscellaneous personal events...and now here it is 2011.

A lot of you have had snow and ice this last month, and we're no exception here in northwest Georgia. We had a white Christmas, and the snow this week brought about eight to ten more inches. This was initially a problem for our little chihuahua, but he did much better than I would have expected. The boxer, Eva Jean, was a different story! At one point I had to rescue her when she went to the very back of the yard and got somewhat stuck in the depth and cold (I think because of her hip dysplasia), so had to go lead her back to the house. And my old enemy, the mockingbird, has been extremely territorial over the foods I've scattered or hung around the yard...you'd think there were four of him instead of only one, as he has every quatrant of the yard covered, and is even chasing away my cardinals!

Anyway, like I said, I'M BACK, and hopefully I'll be able to get my brain back into blogging sooner rather than later. I've said before and it still holds true, the longer you stay away from the computer, the easier it is to stay away from the computer. In the meantime, here are just a very few of the photos from around Christmas.

It was such a treat to see a blanket of white out the window on Christmas day!

The sun was spotlighting Miss Lady Fish, who hasn't been doing well, so I took this photo in case she died. She's hanging in there, though I think she has some kind of neurological damage. (yes, I actually said that)

How quickly can you find the out of place items in these two photos? I let the two grandsons have free rein with the village, and these are the kind of things they come up with! (And honestly, it's one of my favorite things.)

Our daughter and two grandsons, my husband and me, on an awesome, snowy white Christmas day. (No, Conner's hasn't had too many egg nogs, he's probably just frozen. )

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

2010-10-18T12:05:00.002-04:00

(This post was originally published in October 2009, the 25th anniversary of NBCA month, but the message and the stories remain the same. The first nine comments are from that original post, and I included them because of the "conversation" between myself and my husband's niece, Wendy, regarding her mother Sandy, who died of breast cancer.)

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It's a call for us to recognize that we need to be vigilant in our attempts at early detection through self examination and regular mammograms, to bring attention to the need for improved testing and treatment, and to honor those of our ranks - family, friends, and strangers alike - who have battled and survived... and battled and lost.

My life has been touched by the breast cancer diagnosis of four women:

This lovely lady, above, is my stepmother, Ferne. She came into my life as the third wife of my dad, and she was the mother that I had always wished I had had growing up. If I were to be asked to use just a few words to describe her, it would be sweet, loving, soft spoken. I only saw her once a year after the first few years of their marriage, but she never failed to treat me as a treasured member of her family. She had her first diagnosis of breast cancer in, I think, 1987. (I say I think because they didn't tell me that she had or was going to have a masectomy, because they didn't want me to worry long distance. Of course, I took umbrage with that, telling them that, instead, it made me feel out of the loop, but that's another story.) I actually am totally ignorant of her treatment, don't know if she had chemo or radiation or anything, that's how far out of the loop I was.

In the spring of 1993, it was found that Ferne's cancer had metasticized to the brain. By July I was in Texas sitting by her side 24 hours a day so that my dad could get away from the hospital for a bit, and it was then that I saw, for the first time, what a chest with the puckered scars of a double masectomy looked like. In October she died, and I think she was 73. But look at the statistic there ... she survived, and lived well, in the six or more years after the original diagnosis. She was a daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother.

This smiling lady is Sandy, my sister-in-law. She was one of the funniest people I've ever known, and the most talkative! She was known for her talking, her easy laugh, her love of sewing/decorating/crafts, her kindness, and her clutter! She would much rather be doing crafts with her kids than keeping house, and she was a wonderful mother to her four children, though she didn't always have an easy time of it. Once again, we were not around to see how she lived her life with cancer. I couldn't even tell you when she was first diagnosed or if she had chemo or radiation (although I'm thinking she didn't). She did not have an easy time of it, but she lived her last years to their fullest and on a journey of self-discovery. She died at the home of her mother in March 1997. We had called her that night as we hadn't talked to her for a while, and had been told that she wasn't doing well. Her brother Corey answered and said he'd take her the phone... then he came back on the phone and said: "She just died". You never know when the last time you talk to someone will be the last time you talk to that someone. Sandy was 50 years old, a daughter, sister, divorcee, mother, and she did not live to see her two beautiful grandbabies, Joey and Kam.

This blurry lady with the Tweety shirt is Charla, the wife of my husband's cousin. This photo was taken when they came to visit us here in Georgia from Colorado. We had the best time. She was truly a lovely lovely person, and we discovered, she and I, that if we lived closer, like we had for many years but didn't know each other, we would probably have been best friends. We talked so easily, shared secrets even. Within a year of this photo, Charla would be diagnosed with breast cancer. We saw her in Colorado a few years later for a family reunion, and she was a mere skeleton, and I hardly recognized her. I asked her what it felt like, what did she think and feel, knowing that all treatments had failed in this very aggressive form of the disease, and she said she had no choice but to take each day as it came, and took what joy from it that she could. She died at the age of fifty-seven in August 2007. She was a daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother.

Delores is the wife of my step-brother. I don't have dates here, but she was diagnosed with cancer maybe ten or so years ago, and had a masectomy, chemo, and radiation. She's had several scares in the years since, but it appears that she is currently cancer free.

There will be many activities this month in recognition of breast cancer awareness, on small and large scales, in schools, churches, communities, and cities. If you get a chance to participate in some way, please do. If you don't want to 'walk', then maybe you could just do an extra donation for research and free mammograms this month, or remind a friend, sister or mother to do a self-exam or get a mammogram. Or make an appointment to get one yourself.

"When you do nothing, you feel overwhelmed and powerless. But when you get involved, you feel the sense of hope and accomplishment that comes from knowing you are working to make things better. ” Maya Angelou

http://www.nationalbreastcancer.org/How-To-Help/Fundraising.aspx

If I had been posting ...

2010-09-29T23:18:00.040-04:00

Donna at Mystical Journey has a new grandson, the other Donna at Starkey Hollow had to have her doggie, Sam, put to sleep, Cheryl at Scrubby Bush is having trouble with a randy kangaroo repeatedly having his way with her pet roo (how many people can say that?), yaya at Whispering Pines lost a dear sister-in-law and now herself has a finger in a splint from putting a fitted slipcover on her couch. Jeanne's dog Dodger is getting the cold shoulder from the little corgi down the street, Susie of City Gal Moves to Oz is raising a herd of guineas who are growing too fast while she's off working, and Middle Age Woman almost lost her adult son last month. Life is going on all around us! It's been going on here in my corner of the world as well, and if I had been posting this last month I would have told you about it.

If I had been posting, I would have told you about our battle with lice and fleas at my daughter's house and mine, and how I have done so much laundry between the lice one week and the fleas the next that I think I should be qualified for some kind of special laundress award! Conner brought them home from kindergarten, and keeps getting re-infested with nits, but we can't figure out from where because they also spray and wash at school! As far as we can tell, none of the other of us has had them, except for a few nits on Melody early on, so it's got to be something that hasn't been sprayed or washed at school.

And I would have told you that Eva Jean had such a bad reaction to the Frontline flea application after being off it for six months (do you know how expensive that stuff has gotten?)that she frothed at the mouth, couldn't stand up without falling down, and had a seizure. Scared the crap out of me, but I hurriedly washed it off repeatedly with a wet towel until she came around and stood up and walked off like nothing out of the ordinary had happened except that Mom was freaking out about something again.

If I had been posting, I would have told you that Connor (left) turned five years old in September, something he has been looking forward to since he was four and a half. For his birthday I got to go to his muffin and juice party in his kindergarten class (which was a hoot, especially with eleven boys in the class and only a sprinkling of girls), and then that night the family met at the park after football and soccer practice for cupcakes and some playtime. Most of it was in the dark because the park hadn't yet changed their automatic lighting to 8pm instead of 9pm, but we had a good time anyway. His big gift was a DS because his brother and two cousins each have one, so he was always odd man out.

If I had been posting, I would have told you about how Connor and I and then Garrett and I, on separate occasions, spent time at our nature trail and creek. It had been way too hot to do that this summer, and even now the mosquitos are horrible. The day that Garrett and I went we took Oliver, and had the best time for about an hour, until he started feeling sick and wanted to go home. Turned out he was cooking something, and threw up at Connor's birthday party and then missed three days of school (plus the weekend) with an upper respiratory thing. I had to take him to the doctor twice, with the last one having a change of antibiotic and a nebulizer, both of which did the trick.

If I had been posting, I would have told you about our mouse infestation, which we get several times a year because of the field behind us. Cute little things, but the cuteness wears off real fast when they poop and pee on everything! I had to put all the cereals, crackers,popcorn, cake mixes, etc., in the oven until I could get plastic containers that are mouse-proof (I keep these things on wire pantry shelves on the door in the laundry room), and forgot one night and turned the oven on. Luckily, I realized what I had done when I smelled plastic burning, and the only damage done was melting the cellephane wrapping of the snack crackers. It's actually been a nightmare because killing them with the traps wears on you after a while, especially when they aren't completely killed (I won't go into detail on that one), but we've tried all the no-kill traps and they aren't as effective or they flat out don't work.

If I had been posting, I would have told you about my new babies, Hannah and Henrietta McHamster. (Yes, I see the irony of that in light of the above paragraph). And they, also, are cute little things. In fact, I'm quite enamered of them and spend at least thirty minutes every night (what would normally maybe have been my blogging time) freshening their cages and playing with them. The idea was that I had hamsters growing up, as did my daughter, so it was only fair that the grandsons should have the experience...but with the hamsters staying at my house. So I bought two girls, who I separated into two cages so they wouldn't start fighting, and they're right next to each other above me here at my computer desk. The boys adore them (though the thrill has worn off a little as the weeks have passed), and I've no regret that they (the hamsters) have added work to my already busy day, cuz, like I said, they are so cute and entertaining! (My husband says that if he didn't know that the hamsters were in the bathroom with me, he'd worry about my sanity because of all the talking I do!)

We had one near disaster, feeding my fear that the dogs will get hold of one of them. I was sitting here at the computer, saw a movement out of the corner of my eye, and looked a scant few inches to my left at the bookcase , and who should be staring back at me from the top of the photo albums but Henrietta! The masking tape holding the door to her nesting box on top of the cage closed had curled, allowing it to open when she was up there, nesting. I've tried imagining what she must have been thinking as she peered over the edge, if her mind was on the great escape or 'hey, there's mom!'. Be that as it may, I quickly threw the dogs out of the room, slammed the door, and got her safely back to her now super-reinforced cage.

If I had been posting, I would have told you that Lewie the Bluey died, and I'm convinced that he never recovered from the tomato sauce incident. I stopped to look at the fish when I was at Petco to get the hamsters, and ended up going home with another betta, Miss Lady Fish. She runs to the front of her bowl and swims in excited circles when I come near, which actually means nothing more than that she wants food, but I like to tell myself that she's glad to see me.

If I had been posting, I would have told you about and had photos of my garden, or lack of. A few things, like the zinnias, salvia and cone flowers, did well, but most everything else just died on the vine or went into self-preservation mode by shutting down production of flowers. It was so hot and dry here in Georgia that there was little inclination to even go outside to tend a garden. So I have no photos of baskets of tomatoes, beans, or peppers to show you. Of course now that fall is here and frost not far off, everything is growing prolifically with no chance of reaching full potential. Except the cone flower, which has re-seeded everywhere, including the middle of some of the perennials.

Finally, I would have told you that my daughter's fifteen year old cat, Jasmine, had to be put to sleep. She was Melody's first pet that was all her own when she was in college. Her boyfriend now husband brought it to her as a teeny tiny kitten, so Jasmine was actually her first 'child' and my first 'fur grandbaby'. She and the boys and I gathered around Jasmine's body before we buried it, with Garrett writing a poem in the center of a heart (Roses are red, violets are blue, even though you're gone, we still love you.), and Conner drew a picture of a cat and some writing I'm not sure what it says that he put on the mailbox 'so everyone would know what happened'. He then sang his 'I love you song' (a rendition of one I taught him as I have a song for everyone), then we buried her with the poem under a tree in the backyard. I was so proud of both of them as this is still early in their experience with death, even though they have experienced it before with my pets.

So, that brings you up to date on my life these last five weeks. I'm so pleased to say that Fall has finally arrived to our neck of the woods, and I have spent more time outside the last week than the entire last three months. I can't think of a summer I have enjoyed less than this one we just had, but it is over and gone and good riddance! Unfortunately, Fall is arriving on the wind, and wind and I are not friends. Any change in the barometric pressure, especially when it's windy, makes every muscle in my body feel like one big bruise, as well as causing a pins and needles tingling that drives me to insanity. But at least it's not HOT!

Now, here's hoping that I can now get back on track with my posting so that I don't have to write so much at one time! I wish I had something philosophical or intelligent, passionate or artistic to write about, but, well, I'm just busy putting one foot in front of the other, and I suspect that's what most of you are doing as well. Getting through each day as best we can, delighting in the simple pleasures of hamsters and fish, grandkids and pets, and.... well, whatever gets us through these times with a semblance of normalcy and sanity.

Changes, Frustrations, and Joys

2010-08-23T08:53:00.001-04:00

Several people emailed me this week to ask if everything was ok because I hadn't posted in several weeks. I replied that yes, all is fine, just have been busy with a schedule change and some frustrations. Which got me to thinking about what, indeed, is going on in my life right now.

For one thing, my daughter has gone back to work as an elementary school counselor after being a stay-at-home mom for the last two years. Before she quit work, I had been the babysitter for the two grandsons for three years, so when she was home my 'job' was eliminated. I had thought I would go back to work, but jobs around in our area are scarce, and I'd been out of the work place for three years at that time. Besides, I didn't know what kind of job to look for as I have some 'brain quirks' that make my choices limited.

I began cleaning house once a week for her sister-in-law, and then later going every day twice a day to walk and play with her(the s-in-l) new dog, a high-energy min pin puppy, which turned into me being a working mom's assistant (doing a quick kitchen clean-up and house pick-up while letting the dog play, and then cleaning on Fridays). The rest of the time I just played happy homemaker in my own home, watched a lot of tv, worked in the yard, interacted with my dogs, and spent waaay more time than I should have here on the computer. Basically, I made my own schedule and didn't have to do a lot of accounting to anyone. And I make enough money each week to at least pay for my meds, or buy Eva Jean's special and outrageously expensive dog food every four weeks, or do something with one or both boys.

So, back to the present. Like many families these days, we're all suffering greatly from slow downs with work and being in financial distress. I won't go into all that here, but suffice it to say that we are all incredibly frustrated. When Melody decided she had to go back to work (kicking and sceaming the whole way), it also meant a specific schedule change for me. It goes something like this:

9:30-10:30 walk Max and clean kitchen (I take my Oliver with me so they can play)
10:30-12 clean daughter's house (kitchen, vacumn, laundry, or whatever needs to be done)
12-1:30 my house
1:30-2:15 walk Max and play with him
2:30 pick 4yr old Conner up from school and go to his house
3:15 Garrett gets home by bus
3:15 til 5-7:00ish sit the boys and cook dinner for them and enough to take home for us

The joy of this schedule change is that I get to see the boys every day, and get to interact more with my daughter and her family life at her house as opposed to the boys being dropped off/picked up from my house. She doesn't pay me a salary like before, but reimburses me in sooo many ways throughout the year/month/week/day, more than any daughter should have to do for her mom and dad who are still ambulatory (though becoming more decrepit every year!).

The other change that comes with this schedule change is that I will have to pick up some of the slack in some of my daughter's other obligations, such as in a business that she's involved in with her dad and husband, which is fine, except that I'm afraid I will screw up and disappoint them because of those 'brain quirks' I mentioned before. I'm not sure they actually realize how scrambled my brain is sometimes, though I've certainly told them about it often enough, and I sometimes wonder if they think that I just use that as an excuse to not do some things, or think that it ties into my irrational belief that I'm basically a screw-up. Be that as it may, it's not a huge effort to do what's basically secretarial work, just the frustration (and fear) that I'll screw up something important and disappoint them because of my huge inability to follow or remember directions.

Also, and this is something I don't know how she ever managed to do with the kids running around plus the time consuming business stuff, I have taken over one of her PTO duties of entering Coke product codes for school rewards. Seriously, bags of Coke bottle tops have to be entered on the computer one.at.a.time, and it is the most boring and time-consuming task imagineable! Could Coca-Cola have made it more difficult to earn rewards?

Ok, all this sounds like a cake walk to those of you who have four kids, two jobs and an aging parent to take care of along with your own disabilities! But it's a change for me nonetheless, and we're still in the process of fine-tuning it. I'm having to redefine my priorities as far as just getting the basics in my own home done in a timely fashion, in addition to semi-running two other households...especially since, as you might recall from my previous post, I am the queen of procrastination. If you ask me to do something for you, I may happily and willingly say "sure, no problem!", only to forget about it for the next two weeks, so I'm having to remember that there are other people involved now.

But here's something that I realized this week that I guess could also be put in the joy column. While I was berating myself for only being capable of doing fluff work like housecleaning and babysitting (as opposed to, say, nursing or teaching) to bring in some money, I realized that I am contributing to the quality of life for two families with a mother who works outside the home, the absolute hardest job in the world. When my daughter and her sister-in-law get home from a day at school, they walk into a clean kitchen and a straightened up house, giving them time to spend with their kids and doing other important stuff, instead of walking in and being slapped in the face with all the crap that's left over from dinner last night and breakfast that morning (not to mention the mess that three indoor dogs and two cats can make in a twenty-four hour period!). And probably just as importantly, my daughter knows that when those two little boys get home from school, the person who greets them and makes their snack does it with love.

And I've realized that this is something I do well, being a working mom's assistant, whether it's cleaning up a kitchen or cleaning out the kitty box, throwing in a load of clothes or scrubbing a toilet. I used to have my own house cleaning service (which means that I cleaned a bunch of houses by myself), but let it fall by the wayside as it's really.hard.work by yourself on a regular basis, especially if you have a bad back. While my own house is far from being clean, uncluttered, or organized, I have a natural impulse to walk into their houses and head straight to the kitchen or straighten a couch. I also had a very lucrative petsitting service which I gave up when we moved here as I didn't have time because of the grandsons, so it's nice to do that again.

But here's the really nice part ... my 'brain quirks', my inability to focus on a particular task and see it to it's finish, or my inability to even understand the steps to do the task, don't matter! No boss is going to say to me again: "Linda, if we didn't love you so much, and if you hadn't worked so hard, we would have had to fire you a long time ago because of your memory problems". (Well, unless I forget to walk Max, or to pick Conner up from school, or be home when Garrett's bus gets there, or enter the reward codes, or check the email for new orders, or forget to enter those orders, or ... hmmm, maybe I better not get too cocky!).

So, to make this loooong explanation even longer, I'm still reading new posts on my blog list every day, but if I don't publish my own post it's because I'm not managing my time well in my new schedule!

Two New Awards!

2010-07-30T18:45:00.003-04:00

I recently received recognition from two of my fellow bloggers who I consider my online friends. I know some bloggers have award-free zones, which I guess means they don't display awards or just find it very time consuming, but I'm more than appreciative of the pat on the back, and will proudly display them somewhere on my blog. I guess the 'rules' do seem kind of silly, but it's all just a way for us to get to know each other, don't you think?

From Bernie at Old? Who Me? comes the Blog of Substance award. The only rule is that you pass it on to ten other bloggers. That's actually the hardest thing to do, as I can't think of many blogs that I've read over the last year that weren't blogs of substance, simply because they all are people like myself who are putting themselves, their thoughts, feelings and opinions, out there for all to see.

From Cheri at Cheri's Chatter comes the Versatile Blogger award. Cheri and I are new to each other, but I know her well enough to know that, besides being a fellow grandmother who dotes on her grandkids, she is a ray of sunshine. Seriously, you can almost hear her southern charm and positive attitude radiating from every sentence. The rule for this award (though I doubt they take it away from you if you don't follow the rules) is to give seven things about myself that you probably don't know about me. I've actually done this once before, so I hope I can think of a few more things. Oh, and pass it on to seven fellow bloggers who I consider 'versatile', which I guess means they write on a wide variety of topics.

I'm actually going to send BOTH of these awards on to the same people. Everyone I read deserves them, but if I have to name ten they would be: Annie at Quiet Commotion, Julie at Midlife Jobhunter, Lorna at Bathtime Blogger, Dinah at My Aimless Infatuation, Tim at Catnip, Suz at City Gal Moves to Oz, Michelle Rene at Must Be a Full Moon, Kobico at Mindless Meanderings of a Middle-Aged Maniac, Bernadette (Bernie) at On My Own, and Yaya at Whispering Pines. Forgive me for not linking to their blogs...I'm just lazy that way, and you can find them on my blog list. I also didn't check to see if they already have these awards, but that's ok as this is really about my personal recognition of them.

Ok, here goes:

1. I'm a time-waster of the highest order. I can find more things to do to waste time, and waste more time doing those things, than anyone I know. And when all is said and done, I've got nothing to show for the expenditure of that much time.

2. I have the lowest self-esteem of almost anyone I know. I don't know where it comes from, but I feel, and have felt for my entire life, that I am pretty much worthless except as a mother and grandmother. I'm one of those people who says to herself "can't you do anything right?", or "how fucking stupid can you be?", even if I just knock over a cup of coffee or forget to pay a bill. I realize that sending these negative messages to myself is a really bad habit, and I work on trying to change the way I talk to myself every day. Thanks for your urge to tell me I'm wonderful, but a person feels what a person feels no matter how irrational.

3. I'm addicted to crime shows, currently the Law and Orders, CSI, Bones, The Closer, and the new The Glades.

4. I've been watching General Hospital since I was pregnant with my daughter - 36 years. Even when I worked, I took a portable radio that had tv audio so that I could listen on those little earbuds. Almost every week I wonder why the hell I still watch it - but, I still watch it.

5. I've lived in Chicago Ill, Ft. Worth TX, Dallas TX, Denton TX, Alexandria VA, Dayton OH, Greeley, CO, Arvada CO, Loveland CO, Monroe GA, Eatonton GA, and now Rock Spring GA. Over a 62 year period.

6. In my lifetime I've owned 17 dogs (Brownie, Sleepy, Snookey, Chop Chop, Shaz, Grumpy, Gordon, Lulu, Nady, Toby, Chessie, Nady, Gracie, Charity, Molly, Eva Jean, Oliver) , 11 cats (Black Button, Kesch, Sugar Plum, Honey Bun, Blitzen, Clarisa/Clarence, Meg, Hazel, Hobo, Kitty, Tweety), 6 birds (Tweety, Micah, Spraddle, 3 cockatiels whose names escape me except for 'Bird'), 3 hamsters (Hercules, Squeeky, Pinky), multiple fish, 1 salamander, 3 rabbits (Dandy, Thumper, and another whose name escapes me), and 3 horses (Moon, Poco, and Lady). I have a collage frame in the hallway with all their photos.

7. I cuss like a sailer, especially when I'm mad, and when I'm mad I have a HUGE temper. No one suspects it of me as I'm soft spoken and shy, but when I blow it's big and LOUD. I'm also quick to apologize. Well, truth be told, I don't have to be mad to cuss. It's just an aspect of my verbal repertoire, as unflattering as it might be. I restrain myself in public or with certain people, and certainly around children, and it's very rare here on my blog as I don't like to offend people, but with family and friends it comes out.

Whew! That all took more time than I thought it would, but it was relatively painless. Thanks again for these awards, and I hope to continue to be deserving of them. And if I didn't give you an award but you'd like one or both of them to decorate your place, go ahead and take it and say it's from me - I'm sure you deserve them!

A Revised Ending!

2010-07-24T13:28:00.017-04:00

A week ago I told you about my little bluebird, the one who escaped the clutches of a snake, only to be used as a plaything by my boxer, Eva Jean. I had sadly placed his slobbery, limp, barely breathing little body in the nesting box after looking him over, thinking that the parents could find him and know that their job was done. Later, before finishing my post, I looked in the box once more and saw that he seemed to have died, as he was unresponsive and to my eyes was not breathing (even knowing that they sometimes play possum). As you know, I shed some tears!

Imagine my surprise when I opened the box the next morning and found this...

A wide-eyed baby bluebird, thinking I had come to give him some breakfast. I just about cried again! After ooohing and aaaahing for a few minutes and performing a soliloquy for him about how excited I was, I closed the door and hurried inside to the kitchen window. I watched for quite some time, but the parents were not coming...they were still in the yard, apparently looking for their baby. It was truly heartbreaking!

I opened the door of the birdhouse, hoping to get their attention and let them see that he had returned there, and within minutes they both appeared, then again and again over the next two and a half days. Sometimes they tried to coax him out, sometimes they fed him, sometimes they just kept vigil in the dogwood tree. I was on pins and needles wondering if all of his body parts were working - no broken wings or legs - and absolutely NOT allowing the dogs out the door except on leash!

I was ready with my camera at the kitchen window, and have probably a dozen starts and stops of his hesitation at the door of the nest. At dark on Tuesday night he still had not fledged, so I had to give it up. Wednesday morning was the same. Wednesday afternoon Garrett and I were walking Oliver and Charity around the yard, me knowing that the baby had been in his nest just a little while earlier, and he looked down under the maple tree where Oliver was sniffing, and saw this...

I don't know WHO was more excited, me or Garrett or the dogs wondering what was going on! After exclaiming over him for a minute, I ran to the house with the dogs and got my camera to get this photo before the parents had another nervous breakdown. They had been following our every move, and after all they had been thru they didn't need these big people messing with their kid! (I also checked the nesting box to make sure it was OUR bluebird!)

I don't actually know if this story has a happy ending. Thursday he was nowhere to be found, but the parents were keeping vigil and guard at one corner of the yard which borders on an overgrown lot, which borders on our green area. I couldn't tell if he was in or near our tree limb pile or on the other side of the fence. Friday they had moved further out into our neighbor's nicely mowed lawn that also borders on the green area. This is good news and bad news, as this area is shaded from our 100 degree week (with 107 degree heat index), but also home to the snakes.

But in my mind I'm calling it a happy ending. By some MIRACLE he survived his time in our little corner of the world. He survived the sparrows and mockingbirds, the wasps and suffocating heat, the snake, and the dogs. His parents were AWESOME, never giving up and battling all those demons to the best of their ability. Now he, and they, are off to the next stage of their lives. According to the book, they will feed the little guy for up to two weeks if he needs it, and then will possibly be a family group for a while until nesting begins again.

Now the question is: Do I leave the nesting box hanging on the deck, to possibly repeat this heartache and happiness again, or do I take it down? Hmmm....

(I uploaded several videos but blogger didn't show them in preview...now I know that they don't play until you've published! Gosh, it took me long enough to figure that out! It's a little boring, and I shot it thru the screen, and I forgot to zoom, but take my word for it that he was sticking his head out! In case you're like me and wondering how to start it, you just click in the middle. And did you now that if you click the little white square on the bottom right of the video screen it will go to full screen for better viewing? I just found that out!)

I'm Glad I'm Not a Bird: TWO SAD STORIES

2010-07-19T19:39:00.009-04:00

I can't believe I'm sitting here at the computer crying big wracking sobs over a nest of birds. But I think if you hear my tale you'll understand why I'm such a goof.

Remember the nest of wren eggs on the front porch, the porch that gets so hot on a summer morning that touching the steel front door will actually burn your hand? The one in the geranium pot that at one point I covered with the cereal box to shade the eggs and the mama? Well, the two week gestation period ended with no babies. But the mama continued to sit on them for another week before she gave up. THREE WEEKS she sat on that nest in that blistering morning sun, only to have to desert it with no babies to show for it. I think she was a first-time mama and had picked that spot in the shade of the afternoon or evening, but it was just too sad to see her sitting faithfully, unwilling to give up too soon. Yes, it happens all the time in nature. But it was just very sad. I left the eggs in the nest in the pot so that she wouldn't come back to nest again. There were four of them. (pictured above)

But we still had the nest of bluebirds on the deck, remember, who were due at the same time. They hatched (we didn't know how many), and mama and daddy took such good care of them. I marked the calendar when they'd be due to fledge, and the plan was to leash walk the dogs when it was time. Last night (Sunday) at dusk, the mama and daddy were all over the place out back, going back and forth from the nest to the bushes and trees, that thing they do when they're coaxing them out of the nest. The sparrows and mockingbird chose that time to come and harrass them, so that the protective parents had fight them off in order to protect their brood. We took turns at the kitchen window, running out to chase off the sparrows, and David even took a pellet gun to the mockingbird (but missed). I had made plans to spend the night with the grandsons, so left thinking all was well in my bird world.

This morning I called to see how it was going, and David said 'you don't want to know'. I said 'oh no, did the dogs get the babies?', and he said 'no, a snake'. 'ARE YOU ****ING KIDDING ME?' No, he wasn't. He had taken Eva Jean out just after I left, looked over at the nesting box, and saw a six foot snake hanging out of the box. He grabbed my lopping shears and grabbed hold of the snake, trying just to get him out of the box, and pulled and pulled before he finally came out, and, though it was injured, was able to get away. It was dark by this point, so there was nothing David could do until this morning. He looked in the nest, and there was one baby left.

I didn't get home again until tonight (Monday). I was so excited about one baby being left, even though he could have suffered 'crush' damage from the snake (or psychological damage from seeing it's siblings eaten). I'd look out the window now and then to see if there was any activity, and mama and daddy were out there and coming to the nest with a worm, but then leaving with the worm. We weren't sure what that meant. I began to prepare dinner, and without thinking I let Eva Jean out back. Went back to the sink. Looked up to see Eva Jean racing around the yard and tossing 'something' up in the air. I flew out the door and across the yard...to find that she did, indeed, have the baby bluebird.

The little guy, already a dark blue, was barely alive. Neither of us had the heart (or stomach) to put it out of it's misery, so I gently placed him back in his nest, hoping the mama and daddy would find him and realize their job was over, that none of their babies had survived, that they would have to start all over again. (When I put him back, I saw that there was one unhatched fragile blue egg still intact that never hatched and escaped the snakes clutches.) As I stood again at the kitchen window, the anxious parents were sitting atop the dogwood tree, searching the ground for their last baby. (And, just now having checked, I think he is probably dead.)

I know nature can be cruel and that this scenario plays itself out dozens if not hundreds of times a day. But nature can also be beautiful, and I will continue to hold out hope that one day we can see the full cycle of nest making to egg laying to fledging played out successfully in our little corner of the world. But from now on I will post about it after it's a done deal.

Peaches

2010-07-14T17:04:00.017-04:00

Summer 2006, we planted one peach tree. One year later, we had one fuzzy little peach ... Garrett and I split it, and it was the sweetest, tastiest peach either of us had ever tasted. We could hardly wait until summer number three when we surely would have a bumper crop! Spring of 2008 brought hundreds of tiny little flowers, which fell off a couple of weeks later in a hard frost. Summer 2009 brought dozens of tiny, hard green peaches, to be lost a few weeks later in a late and extended spring feeze and ice storm. This summer, summer number five, was surely to be THE YEAR OF THE PEACH!

The tree this summer was covered with beautiful Georgia peaches! They even ripened several weeks earlier than expected due to the early spring weather we enjoyed (and which quickly gave way to a hotter than expected summer).

The only problem was, their ripening coincided with the appearance of the dreaded Japanese beetle. If you've never had to deal with them, count yourself lucky. If you have seen them, you know that they not only destroy every fruit and flower in your garden, but are downright disgusting, munching and copulating at the same time. To try to pick any fruit that was NOT covered with these nasty creatures was like something out of a nightmare, their hard bodies slamming into your face and arms in an effort to chase you away from THEIR bounty.

But they weren't the only pest at the peach tree. This particular one, with sparse white hair and dark freckles, is an EVA JEAN, with the ability to just reach up and grab a peach at will, taking a few bites and leaving the remains on the ground for another pest, the ants.

This hairy pest is called an OLIVER, a common ordinary thief who will go so far as to grab a peach right from under your nose after you have done all the hard work, and who is not above taking one in the house and trying to tell you it's a ball.

I've saved the worst pest for last, and thankfully I have no photo of it. It's the 'plum curculios' worm. It enters the peach in the early stages of development, and if you don't spray in a timely fashion it will destroy the innards of the peach and cause it to either fall early or bruise heavily.

And when you cut them open, no matter how beautiful the peach may seem on the outside, there will be a teeny tiny squiggly white worm on the inside at the pit. And after you've cut open a few dozen peaches, your stomach begins to do this funny little squirmy thing, and if you weren't raised to do this on a regular basis, you just flat give up and say 'no more'.

When all was said and done, there were only enough peaches to freeze five two-cup bags for future cobblers. I'd have taken a photo of the one that we already made, but it didn't last long enough! It was simply scrumptious. And next year, if we don't have an early frost or heavy freeze, and if we spray in a timely fashion, and if they can time their ripeness before or after the invasion of the Japanese beetle, maybe, just maybe...

Oliver, Sunset, Bluebirds, Wrens, and Lewie the Blewy

2010-07-06T16:40:00.012-04:00

It's been a while since I posted a photo of my little Oliver, so here are two. I don't have a story to go with them...just wanted you to see how cute and sweet he is. Twelve pounds of love!

Also don't have a story to go with the sunset, except that it was at the end of a horrifically hot and humid day, and obviously beautiful!

I haven't had much luck with bird stories, but will try one more time. Three weeks ago, Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird began testing this hanging birdhouse on the deck. Knowing that they sometimes start several, we weren't sure if this would be a keeper. It was. Mrs. Bluebird is now sitting, and the birds should hatch within the week.

Mr. Bluebird has been quite busy keeping those pesky sparrows away, though they haven't been as much of a problem this year as last as most went on to greener pastures when we had the hawk hanging around. And, apparently, the maurading mockingbirds have been busy harrassing someone else's nest, as they haven't been a problem either ... yet. He sits here next to or in this old feeder above the box or in a nearby bush, and is very attentive to Mrs. Bluebirds needs. I'm disappointed, though, that the birdhouse is facing away from the kitchen window, as we'd have to have a tall ladder to be able to see what's going on inside, and they might not be happy if I took it down or turned it around at this point as it wouldn't face out into the yard.

Why, you may be asking, is this pathetic looking geranium covered with a cereal box? Because of these...

On the hottest porch in town, which gets blazing and reflected sun from sun-up til 2pm, in a geranium that I somehow managed to baby thru the winter in the house, is now home to a nest of Carolina wren eggs. I know that mama birds know how to take care of their babies, but I was thinking she might not have known exactly how hot this spot would be in our unseasonably hot June. After watching her hanging her head out and panting, I cut up a cereal box and put one half of it on top of the plant to block the sun, and would take it down in the afternoon. The plant is blooming now and blocking the sun, so I can leave them alone (except for occasionally putting a little water on the front side to keep the plant alive). She didn't seem to be bothered by the box or by me coming and going out the front door, though I did put reflective tape and a note across the steps requesting everyone to move slowing and quietly! If all goes well (and we all know that it doesn't always), we will have babies in the next few days. And I will not become emotionally attached this time!

Last but not least, I'd like to introduce you to my birthday gift from the two grandsons back in May - Lewie the Bluey, a male blue betta. I haven't mentioned him before because I wasn't sure if he was going to live due to the 'tomato sauce incident', or that you would believe me if I told you what happened! It would sound like a 'fish tale', just like the one I read at a blogger friend's place when she posted about a fish she had had as a girl that was blinded because of a broken bowl, which I thought was a fish tale but that she swears really happened.

Anyway, I was cleaning Lewie's bowl and had put him in his little plastic holding dish, then went to put him back in the cleaned bowl with the dark green net. Did I mention that I was right next to a cluttered sink, that I didn't have my glasses on, and that he's a dark blue with a greenish tinge? Oh, and maybe I had my head up my butt?

Long story short, I thought I had got him back into his bowl from the net, tossed the net in the sink, looked back at the bowl, and there was no fish. Looked in the sink, saw he was still in the net, picked up the net, and he fell out...into a can of tomato sauce from the night before that was soaking to loosen up the dried tomato sauce residue. I hurriedly tried to get him out, pouring the water into my hand thinking I'd catch him, but fish being fish, he slid back down into the cluttered sink, underneath dirty dishes and silverware.

I finally got hold of the poor fish and put him back into his bowl, but the next week was touch and go. I thought at the very least he'd be blind from contact with the tomato sauce, or emotionally damaged from his tour of the sink. For the next week or so he wouldn't eat. Nothing. I don't know how he survived at all, actually, and was preparing the boys for his imminent death. Luckily, that didn't happen. He is alive and well, eating like a pig, and so glad to see me when I walk into the room. He's right here at my computer, and I do believe he knows the sound of my voice as when I speak he does rapid laps around his bowl. And that's not my imagination!

Amanda

2010-06-29T00:18:00.023-04:00

I had the most wonderful surprise a couple of weeks ago! I received an email from my niece, Amanda, that she was in the area (all the way from New Mexico) with her husband and four kids to visit the husband's family here in Georgia, and wondered if I was anywhere near to where they were in Lafayette, Georgia. Well, uh, yeah...I was about fifteen minutes away from there! We made a plan for me to drive there to visit with her, and then possibly make plans for her to come to my home before they left on that Friday. I hadn't seen her since 2003 when Melody, Garrett and I drove to Panama City, Florida for a very brief visit with her and Kathy, so I was full of anticipation. But first, a little history...

This is my sister, Kathy, pregnant with Amanda. As most of you know, back in 1978, I found my birth family, which included an aunt and five half-siblings. A few months later, in May 1979, one of those siblings, Kathy, came to live with us in Colorado. She was a single mother of a small boy (Jacen) and was pregnant again...and needed a place to live for awhile. Being a new big sister, I was quick to say "sure, come on down!". They moved in, and in the beginning all was well as we got to know each other. Then we began to get on each other's nerves. She eventually found a little trailer to move into, and in Sept. 1979 gave birth to her little girl, Amanda, and I was in the delivery room to welcome her into the world.

Kathy moved into a little apartment, and we co-signed for her to get a phone. All was not well with us for one reason or another, and she got into a church situation that bordered on being a cult, which I disapproved of. We rarely saw each other, and for some reason there are no photos of Kathy and I together during that entire year even though we were new family, and there aren't even any photos of me and Amanda, which I find so strange! Anyway, almost a year after she came to Colorado, Kathy and the two kids vanished. Literally. She moved to Las Vegas and didn't even tell me she was leaving. And left us with a huge phone bill.

Flash forward to 1989, ten years later. Kathy, who I was still in touch with occasionally, called to say that she needed a big favor. She was now the single mother of three kids - Jacen, Amanda, and Brandon - and had been having a very difficult time. She had been in an abusive relationship with a guy named Jim, and he had molested Amanda. She was trying to get out of the situation, and wondered if she could send Brandon and Amanda to stay with me for the summer. I said yes.

Their faces show that they were happy to be with us, and I know I was delighted to have a chance to get to know the little girl I had welcomed into the world! We lived in the country, and had four dogs, three cats, a new litter of kittens and three horses (actually, they were more like big dogs, but that's a whole other story). It was a dramatic change from the life they were used to! Amanda especially loved the horses.

Look at the joy and excitement on her face! I think this must have been the very first time she had ever been on a horse.

As happy as they look in these photos, all was not well. Amanda was, not surprisingly, acting out in so many ways. We started butting heads big time. I remember one time her stomping out of the house and across the pasture, with me in hot pursuit, screaming at her that she damn well would listen to me and to come back to the house! Unfortunately, things went from bad to worse, and my hopes of being the favorite aunt who showed them the good life turned sour for all of us. After four weeks, I had to call Kathy and tell her that the kids needed to go home. I am not proud of that. And for years afterwards, to this very day, anytime I thought of Amanda, I remembered those four weeks and felt that I had let her down in so.many.ways.

As the years went by, Amanda's life did not get any better. She lived thru several of Kathy's dysfunctional boyfriends and religions, as well as a life at poverty level in the home of a single mother with three kids, and eventually got into drugs and went to rehab. She herself became the single mother of three children beginning at age 18. Other than that oh so brief visit with her in Florida in 2003 (literally maybe 30 minutes), we had not been in touch all those years.

So, here we were in June 2010, seven years since I had last seen her, and only the third time in her life that I'd spent time with her. As we sat next to each other on the couch in her in-laws home, everyone excused themselves so she and I could visit. After we exchanged details about each other's lives, I expressed to her, with a shakey voice and near tears, that I had never forgotten that summer that she and Brandon had visited us in Colorado, and how I had always felt that I had let her down and was so sorry. To my surprise, she said she had always remembered that period of time, even my chasing her across the pasture, and that it had a great deal to do with where she was today.

She said that the visit had shown her what a 'normal' and stable life could be like, and that that was something she wanted for herself someday, though it took her a while to get there. It also fueled her love of horses. For the last three years, she has been married to a real cowboy, and they live on a 'ranch' and home that was built by his grandfather, some 300+ acreas...with horses. She's a stay-at-home mom with three kids and a step-son, and credits her memories of those four weeks with us as an example that she lives by. I was astonished to hear this...and relieved.

On their way out of town to head back to New Mexico, the whole family stopped by our house for a few hours. And this time we took every combination of photo possible! (Don't worry, I won't show all of them!)

Here we are, thirty-one years after we first met!

I kept saying that I thought that Amanda and my daughter Melody look so much alike, but I may have been the only one to see it. I think they have the same cheekbones and smile.

This is her cowboy, Scott. Just the nicest guy! And they seem to be very happy.

I'm so glad to have a photo of my daughter and grandsons with my niece and her children, and hope that someday they will be digging out the photos and remembering back to when they all met on that incredibly hot and humid day in Georgia.

Thirty-one years ago I saw a little girl take her first breath, and was one of the first ones to hold her. I was so pleased to be able to tell that girl now a woman how proud I am of her, and how proud she should be of herself, to have gone thru so much in her early life and to come out the other end with this lovely family and life that she has made for herself.

New Mexico is a long way from Ringgold, Georgia! We've promised to keep in touch when we can and if we want, but no pressure or expectations. Even if I never see her again, I will always remember this visit...and this time have the photos to mark the occasion!

oops!

2010-06-28T20:39:00.001-04:00

If you started reading the post about my niece, Amanda, you'll have to wait to see the rest of it! I left a draft here on the computer while I went to work in the yard, and one of the boys must have clicked publish when they were sitting here! So, I need to take back the other one and finish it!

Riverbend 2010: Darius Rucker and Charlie Daniels Band

2010-06-22T15:58:00.002-04:00

This last week I went to two of the concerts at The Riverbend Festival in Chattanooga - Darius Rucker and Charlie Daniels Band. I don't do musical reviews, but will just say if you ever get a chance to see Darius, do it! I really enjoyed his voice and his choice of music, and it made for a very enjoyable family evening. On the last night, Friday, we went to see the Charlie Daniels Band, and it was just the nicest evening! He's not bad for a 70+year old man - especially because he didn't take some of his better known music and destroy it so that it was unrecognizable (ala Willie Nelson). 'Devil Went Down to Georgia' was a big hit that had the HUGE audience singing along, and smoke was coming off of that fiddle. Immediately after Charlie Daniels was the fireworks display, and it took place on the absolutely most beautiful evening where the horrendous heat of the day (90+) had been replaced by a cool and welcomed breeze.

Whether sitting in your chair and talking or watching people walk by, or walking around listening to other musical groups along the way and eating, or playing at the Children's Village, Riverbend is just fun. Rubbing shoulders with humanity of all sorts. Groups of giggling teenagers meeting up. Teenage girls showing off their boyfriends or their clothes (short shorts or skirts with cowboy boots was very popular this year), teenage guys on the prowl (thank goodness, no 'pants on the ground' like last year). Lots of tatoos! Oldsters sitting in their lawn chairs watching them all walk by or enjoying the antics of their kids or grandkids. Different ages, socio-econmic groups, religions, professions, rockers, country folks, jazzers(don't suppose that's a word), all there to just have a good time. And it appeared that they did.

Here are a few (ok, a lot) of photos from the two nights. I had my camera on the wrong setting, so a lot didn't turn out at all, which is always disappointing on a personal level. However, there were certainly enough to remember the week, and I'm sure Garrett and Conner will be having me pull them up many times over the next year.

Leave it to a four year old to want to put his fingers in the dog's nostrils.

I didn't take note of whether this was a wildlife display or taxidermy exhibit.

Notice Conner didn't get as close to the critter as Garrett did.

This is a view of the stage before the concert. I don't have details, but apparently it's a floating stage.

This area is called Ross's Landing; hence, the plaque.

This is one of my favorite parts of coming here...the river and the boats.

Garrett was actually grounded for the day in that he couldn't ride any of the carnival rides, and no kettle corn or ice cream, which were three things that he had waited for all week. And believe me, he deserved to be grounded! But all was not lost as the playground was cool, plus we did take pity on him and gave him a few bites of our ice cream (though not enough to null and void the punishment!).

No, this isn't the same photo as last week, just the same boy doing the same horns!

The evening wouldn't be complete without a nose bleed, and all we had on hand was a napkin left over from my waffle cone and a fem-wipe. They did the job and all was well.

Boys being boys, these boys found some long weed stems to have a sword fight with when we were out walking.

Conner had a fever all day that ibuprofen was keeping under control. However, toward the end of the evening, the fever was back and he had earned the right to be carried again.

The End.

Riverbend : Sheryl Crow and Allison Krauss

2010-06-14T17:29:00.006-04:00

Every June, Chattanooga holds the Riverbend Festival, nine days of fun and music. For $30, you get a pin that gets one person (kids free) into all nine nights. It's probably not a lot different than dozens of summer musical festivals across the country, except that it's located on the Tennessee River, and has five simultaneous stages of music. There will have been 96 different groups taking the stage by the end of the week.

Each evening, beginning at 5pm, there are musical groups set up on the different stages all along the riverwalk area next to the Tennessee River, with each night's headlining group on the Coco-Cola Stage at 9pm. They try to represent all genres of music - rock and roll, country, blues, zydaco, jazz, folk, even a Faith and Family Night. One year we had Vince Gill as a headliner, and another Trisha Yearwood. Last year (2009)the headliners were Willie Nelson (who sorely disappointed), Little Richard (David said he also didn't deliver), Montgomery Gentry (really rocked), Train, Three Dog Night, B-52s, Steve Curtis Chapman, and the Commodores. And dozens of other groups on the various other stages. I told you this year's lineup in the last post.

Regardless of who we see, and whether we go every night or only a few, it's worth every penny. You make your way thru the throngs of people to the stages or the grassy areas, set up your chair or blanket for the evening, and either sit and visit with friends, walk around catching a glimpse of other performers or events, and, my personal favorite, people watch. There's a sand play area for the kids, a Children's Village, a Kid's Talent Show, an exhibitor area, and a vendor area that has every food imaginable (chicken on a stick is very popular). The stars come out, a cool breeze comes off the river (or it's hotter than hell with no breeze whatsoever), the boats that have come to watch from the water are floating near shore. The whole package is wonderful. Most of us only see the headliners on the big screen, but that's ok, because the real headliner is the river itself, the bridges and horizon...and, of course, sharing the evening with friends and family.

This last Friday night we went to see Sheryl Crow, and Saturday night Allison Krauss and Union Station. They did not disappoint as some have done in the past! Sheryl Crow has a really nice personality onstage, very personable and enthusiastic. Allison Krauss has the voice of an angel, and is very softspoken, and Union Station had toes tapping. Both evenings followed outrageously hot and humid days, more typical of August than early June, but, thankfully, once the sun set it cooled down a smidgeon, with that light breeze off the river.

The only downside to the whole event is that you have to walk quite a distance from your parking to get there, and going back is uphill! It's for that reason that I have chosen to attend only a few nights, as I need the time for my hips to recover from the strain. I plan to see Darius Rucker on Wednesday night and the Charlie Daniels Band on the last night. Anyway, here are some photos of the two nights this weekend: (there are many others of the festival area on last year's post)

That's the museum at the top of the hill (see last year's post with photos). There's a bandstand to the left and in front of here, the first of five, just inside the entrance with an audience area plus people just sitting here and there on the hillside.

That's the stage on the left - the V.I.P. or "Star" guests sit in chairs in a fenced area in front of it, while the rest of us sit on the lawn area and see the performers on the big screens. (You'll have to enlarge this to see better - I took it from the sidewalk.) You can' tell by looking at this photo, but by the time the concert starts there are hundreds of people, not including the hundreds more at the other stages and activities.

I rarely get my photo taken at these events, so this year we made sure I did so that the kids will have proof someday that I do occasionally got out of the house! The boys only went to the Allison Krauss night, and will go again on the last night because of the fireworks. (I don't know what has Conner so wide eyed!)

That's my daughter Melody and son-in-law Brent on the left, my husband David on the right, and, of course, you know the lights of my life, Garrett and Conner. (if you don't, you're new here!)

I don't drink beer, but this is a very popular spot! You can see that David and Brent are up front there waiting their turn. Everything is paid for with tokens that you buy at special booths.

Garrett wanted to show us how strong and responsible he is now by carrying two chairs. That lasted for about two minutes and he handed one of them off to me.

The boys come for one reason and one reason only...Dippin' Dots! Would you believe $5 a bowl? A small bowl! I don't think they cost that much last year, but I'm pretty sure they won't be getting any at the next concert unless they rob their piggy banks!

I don't know what to call these except maybe water spouts.

This is the kind of sunset we get to enjoy and appreciate over the stage and screen area, and it reflects in the river. (Again, you'll have to enlarge to actually appreciate this.)

I didn't realize until I saw the photo that Garrett was doing the horns! I don't know what Conner is doing! (I hate photos like this that show my enlarged thyroid. I know, you wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't pointed it out, I'm just sayin'...in case you do, it's my thyroid.)

The end of a very long, hot evening. Daddy had to carry him aaalll the way to the car, up aaalll those hills... good thing he's 6'4" and strong! But a good time was had by all, and, hopefully, we'll have a couple of more nights before the week is out (unless our 90+ temps and humidity turn into late day thunderstorms).

Riverbend Festival 2010

2010-06-11T17:25:00.007-04:00

Last year at this time I wrote about our Chattanooga Riverbend Festival (it took five tries, but I finally got it to link!), but I don't know if anyone read it because there were no comments! It's that time again, nine nights of every genre of music, and tonight we're off to see Sheryl Crow. Yes, you read that right...SHERYL CROW! Here's the rest of the schedule for the week on the Main Stage (not including the many groups on the smaller stages throughout the evening):

Saturday: Alison Krauss and Union Station
Sunday: The Waybacks, Joan Osborne, John Cowan with CSO
Monday: Kenny Neal
Tuesday: Third Dad
Wednesday: Darius Rucker
Thursday: George Clinton
Friday: Billy Currington
Saturday: Charlie Daniels Band

If you don't like who's the headliner on any particular night, you can wander around until you find someone that does strike your fancy. A good time is guaranteed for every age! After all is said and done, I will do a review of it for you, hoping that this time someone will read it! Meanwhile, we're off....

Damn Mockingbirds!

2010-06-09T14:05:00.012-04:00

Don't be fooled by this innocent looking bird sitting on my porch railing. He is one of a pack of marauding juvenile mockingbirds that have been terrorizing all the other birds in my yard...and who took the week-old baby robins I told you about last week and threw them out of the nest. We only found one, which our boxer had, so we can only assume that the others were gotten hold of by the dogs as well.

What makes me so mad is that I saw them go in there, and repeatedly ran out and chased them off, even encouraged my dogs to try to get them, but they snuck back anyway. As the boys and I searched the surrounding area, mama robin sat atop the peach tree watching us and looking very forlorn. How sad is that! Make a nest, lay your eggs, sit on them until they hatch, bring them food over and over again for a week, only to have them tossed out for kicks by a bunch of bullies.

I wrote about my displeasure with the mockingbirds last summer, so I guess I need to accept that they will continue to be a part of my garden life. But I don't have to like it. Last year the snake got the baby bluebird, and the sparrows took over all the other bluebird houses, and now this. I think I'm about to give up on trying to attract nesting birds to my yard, and for sure need to not get so emotionally involved! Between the snakes, hawks, sparrows, starlings, and damn mockingbirds, I feel like I'm setting up all the other birds for heartache.

Oh well, it's all part of nature, and nature can be very cruel in the middle of all the loveliness.

Baby Birds, Blooms, and Birthday

2010-06-03T09:34:00.017-04:00

Most of the last month has been taken up with working in the yard and taking care of the grandsons. Thankfully, that pesky hawk finally went away and some of the birds have come back, including these nesting robins. They're in a really dense spot in a bush, so I had a hard time getting this photo and then had to enlarge it. The boys were running thru the sprinkler and splashing their little faces (the birds, not the boys), so I had to make them move (the boys, not the birds). As far as I can tell, there are four babies. If you were here last summer, you might remember that we had one baby bluebird in a house right out the front door...that was eaten by a snake. Hopefully these little ones will have a longer lifespan, and my dogs won't get them when they fledge!

I'm sure you don't need a narrative of my flowers! My perennials have gone crazy with all the rain we've had, making clumps so big that I'll have to divide them soon, but my eye has been more drawn to the individual flower types and the wonder of how different and intricate they all are.

And, finally, a photo of my 62nd birthday (on May 15th). Melody brought pizza and she and Conner, the four year old, made the flower shaped cake (yellow with chocolate frosting, my favorite) . Of course the boys fought about who got to put the candles in (we could only find six, thank goodness!), and then fought again to see who got to lick how many candles when we took them out.

(Please pretend you don't see the weed killer and other clutter that we had to shove over to make room for the cake!)

Orphanage, Pt. 9: The End

2010-05-24T23:05:00.005-04:00

I thought I would have a dramatic finish to the two series of posts (Adoption and Orphanage) that have taken up so much of this last year. But truth be told, I've been sitting here staring at the screen for several days and can't seem to find that big finish. What started out as a mention of Lake Bluff Orphanage in a post a year ago has turned into the most incredible journey, and mere words really can't do justice to the experience and the feelings involved (though I did try!).

I've told you everything from my conception thru my birth mother Lillian's relinquishment of me for adoption, thru my time at the orphanage to my adoptive parents, my upbringing, my search for my birth mother, my reunion with my siblings, my wistful yearning every birthday and Mother's Day to know all the what/when/why/wherefores of my history. You probably know more about me and mine than you do about you and yours! There just is nothing left to tell.

Some of you have said you hope I found peace at the end of this journey, in finding out so many details about my birth mother, the adoption, my time in the orphanage. And I have to honestly say that it was never about finding 'peace'. It was about finding those details, facts, documentation, good or bad. It was about filling in the blanks. And, because of Kraig, almost all of those blanks have been filled in.

I've always said that what I missed most in my life was knowing the pure love that a mother has for her child, the kind I've only experienced thru my love for my own daughter. I know now that even though she never even held me, despite taking over two months to sign the relinquishment for adoption papers, she did want something better for me than she could provide, and that is love. I think that knowing this will soften the image I have of her as the alcoholic who eventually lost her other four children due to alcoholism and neglect, at least in regard to her relationship to me and my life. My conception may have been an accident, but the decision to give birth to me and to give me up to the hope of that better life was from love.

I've always wondered how an orphanage could not have known about my adoptive mother's instability. And I know now that they did recognize it...just too late! I'm not sure exactly what she did to get noticed other than appearing flighty, or why they let it pass, but it was what it was. I certainly never expected to find so many written details about her in the orphanage records, though I had always said that there surely must have been records somewhere about the process. I think I expected generalizations, not detailed descriptions of visits.

Something about my whole story that still surprises me is this: (1) My birth mother named me Linda Irene. My adoptive parents named me Linda, not knowing that was my birth name. (2) My adoptive mother's name was Irene. (3) My birth mother became an alcoholic and neglectful mother who lost her other four children. My adoptive mother was an alcoholic and neglectful mother who lost me. I don't believe in destiny or fate, but...seriously? What are the chances?

Truly, the most amazing part of this whole journey of the last year is how it happened. The lady who flagged Lake Bluff Orphanage, who put my original adoption post in the Lake Bluff Gazette? She knew that Kraig was doing research on Lake Bluff Orphanage because her daughter had him as a coach. What are the chances of that happening? And this random alignment of events brought this awesome man into my life. I cannot say enough about him without totally embarrassing him (which I already did by saying he was cute as the dickens), so let me just say that he is honestly one of the most interesting, kind, and empathetic people I have ever met. He not only went over and above in finding out all this information for me, but he did the research and took the journey with his heart.

I can't begin to tell you how much it has meant to me to have you share the written part of this journey with me, much of it while it was happening or shortly thereafter. It was a lot of reading, but it was clear from your comments that you really read it, instead of just skimming through it as sometimes happens when a post is too long. Often, your comments helped me sort thru my own feelings about what I had just written.

My main goal was to get all this written down for my grandkids to be able to read someday, but I hope one of the side perks will be that someone will read my story and see that anything is possible, at any age! Whether you're 16, 26, or 62, being adopted comes with built-in frustration of not knowing facts and faces. If they are interested in looking, in finding out more about their beginnings, then I would say to at least give it a try. I've had several people contact me by email with their story of being adopted, or knowing someone who was adopted, and I tell them that every story has a paper trail. Sometimes all it takes is one person to give one little tidbit of info that will lead to those dusty boxes of records hidden away somewhere. Mentioning names and places in a blog doesn't hurt either, because you just never know who will be reading!

I'd like to end this with an email that Kraig sent after he had been here with his treasure chest of information (or, in this case, a pink birthday bag):

"As I read your blog, you stated about the information that "most was good" (news). So I wanted to share with you what I took from your story.

Your birth mother, Lillian, to me, made the ultimate sacrifice. You had put in one of your blogs that it was a "no brainer", based on her home situation, to give you up. I hope after reading what you now have, you realize how untrue that was. Despite her situation, she was severely conflicted, so much that it took her 2 1/2 months to finally decide what to do about you. In a world where babies are sometimes found abandoned in dumpsters or on the door steps of fire or police departments ... I hope you realize how much she cared about you. I've seen many adults who put themselves first before their kids. Teenagers are even more self-centered because they're not emotionally developed, nor do they think about things in the same way an adult would. The fact that this teenager was able to process her decision, more rationally than some adults, I find pretty amazing.

And based on what I brought to you, I hope you know how much the people at the Lake Bluff Orphanage, in particular Katy Patterson and her staff, cared for you. I'm sure based on the fact that Katy's daughter said "you couldn't help to get attached to the babies, especially the ones that were there for a month or longer." When she said that, IKNEW that you were well received and probably talked about on a daily basis by them in trying to find the right home for you. And it was obvious the case worker, Miss Fox, truly cared about your mother, and you too.

It's easy for us to think of our parents as what they "became", because often this is only what we were able to witness first-hand. Sometimes this is a depressed middle-aged person, or a drug or alcohol dependent person. And this is obviously what your mom became along her life path along with some other problems as she grew older. But as I read the report, I didn't see her as that person, because she hadn't become that person yet. All I saw was a naive teenager who made the right choice to better the life of her daughter.

The line that get's me each time is when she said she wanted to know the information on the adoptive grandparents. She herself had little home-life or any kind of contact with grandparents. And that she stated several times that she never had a place to bring her friends. Had she brought you home to Texas, and the unstable life that awaited you there, it is in my opinion you NEVER would've become the person you are today. I feel the main difference on this was your adoptive father. It was obvious to me from the reports about Tom Ecklund that he cared enough about you at the time of your adoption to gain custody of you later. I can't necessarily say any parent figure on Lillian's side was going to provide that for you.

So, in summary, because of Lillian's mature, unselfish and rather visionary decision, you now today are able to have the relationship with Lillian's great-grandchildren, Conner and Garrett, that she hoped someone would have for you. And I think THAT is what's the best thing to come out of all this. Kraig

Orphanage, Pt. 8: The Adoptive Parents

2010-05-15T15:08:00.015-04:00

I have often expressed a wish to know what my months at the orphanage were like. From the information that Kraig had found in his research about the orphanage and shared with me, plus the interviews he did specifically with the daughter of a nurse and their time there during the time period I was there, and the daughter of another woman who was the night Baby Fold (as it was called) attendant, I was able to learn enough to know that it wasn't something out of Oliver Twist or Little Orphan Annie. In fact, there were rarely more than six babies in the Baby Fold at any given time, and most were only there for a matter of weeks. Since I was there for almost three months, it would suffice to say that a bond of sorts was formed by the caretakers. Although they obviously wouldn't remember me personally after 62 years, I was left with no doubt as to the tender loving care I would have received from them. While I was being cared for in the nursery of the orphanage, this was happening behind the scenes:

(FYI, there were many entries that I didn't include...no thanks necessary!)

8-10-48: In conference with Superintendent and CW supervisor, we are considering this baby for the Ecklunds.

8-13-48: Phoned the Ecklunds today and talked with both Mr. and Mrs. Ecklund. The background of baby girl Crawley was explained to them and both are interested and feel that the background is a match for them. They did hesitate on considering a girl, but it is not a matter of great importance to them as this is their first baby and they were not too set on their decision. Plans were made for them to come for baby Crawley at 3:00 P.M. today. Mrs. E said they would have to buy some clothes because of getting the baby so soon, but feel there is no need for delay as her husband is on vacation and it is convenient to get the baby.

(Later) The Ecklunds came to LBO today for their baby and it was easy to tell they were interested and excited because of things happening so quickly. A thorough picture of the baby's background was given to the Ecklunds and they were accepting of it, though they expressed their disappointment about not knowing more about the alleged father. It was emphasized that the baby was given for adoption because the mother loved her and not because she did not want her. This and other points will be given to the Ecklunds again during our period of supervision and before legal adoption. The Ecklunds do not know what they will call the baby yet, but will send an announcement to the agency. They brought along a lovely 'going home' outfit, and after she was dressed the baby was indeed lovely. During the presentation ceremony by Mrs. Brooks the child 'talked' aloud, but when Mrs. Brooks began to pray she began to cry. As she was placed in Mrs. Ecklund's arms, both Mr. and Mrs. Ecklund expressed their appreciation to the agency. Mr. Ecklund took pictures of his wife and baby as they left the agency and this will be the basis of their explanation to the child of how she came to them.

8-20-48: Received today birth announcement from the Ecklunds. Baby was named Linda Jean.

8-23-48: Phone call from Mrs. Fox who explained that Lillian would like to know the reaction of the adoptive parents to her baby. Mrs. Fox believes her request is a genuine one and a natural one. She wishes to know if they really like her baby and what their response was.

CW wished Mrs. Fox to assure Lillian that the adoptive parents were not only thrilled but most eager to give a home to Lillian's little girl. They unknowingly retained the name 'Linda' which Lillian had given her. Also the adoptive parents have written in explaining how much the baby resembles her and that they have expressed their appreciation to the mother for releasing such a lovely baby for them. Mrs. Fox believes this information will be of reassurance to Lillian. (Note: The first of several coincidences, Lillian had named me Linda Irene, after her mother Rhoda Irene. My adoptive mother's name was Irene. Also, they had not been told that the birth mother had named me Linda, and yet had chosen that name).

9-8-48: Phone call to Mrs. Ecklund to ask about the baby. She admitted that they are very fond of her and have found her to be a real joy to them. .. (misc. notes)... She has been a very easily managed child, eats well and is lots of company for them. The Ecklund's family and friends are all very glad they have the baby and have given her many gifts.

Although CW believes the E's are genuinely happy to have a baby, it was difficult to obtain even the above information from Mrs. E. She was not at all spontaneous in giving the information and CW had to question her on each point. She seemed to lack the usual enthusiasm that most adoptive parents have.

10-17-48: Mr. and Mrs. Ecklund came to LBO today to show their baby girl. The baby spent most of her time on her father's lap, and it could be plainly seen how much enjoyment he has in being a father. Both parents talked with freedom and ease about the baby's adjustment to their home and their love for her. ...(other misc. notes)...

10-19-48: Stopped by at the Ecklund home today and talked with Mrs. Ecklund for the first time since the placement of their baby . The CW had phoned about an hour before, and when she came the baby was neatly dressed and lying in bed. Most of the visit was held in the child's bedroom, at which time the CW observed the child. ...(misc. notes)... Mrs. Ecklund was obviously delighted to show off her baby, but her attitude was still rather reserved. Not once during the interview did she make an attempt to go over and pick up the baby and fondle or cuddle her or to hold her in her lap. ...(more misc. notes)...

3-3-49: CW visited the Ecklund home today. As soon as worker came into the bedroom where the baby was standing in her bed, the child began to shake all over. It lasted for about half a minute. Mrs. E went over to get the baby and picked her up. She brought her into the living room and held her while she told the worker she has noticed the baby having such shaking spells only during the past six weeks. They usually occur when a stranger enters. ...however, they have occasionally occurred when the child suddenly wakens from a nap. They believe such to occur because of shyness and fear rather than any emotional or nervous disorder. She has told their pediatrition about it and he believes there is little cause for concern because of the child's healthy condition. ...(several more paragraphs of notes)...

4-26-49: Worker visited the home today by appointment. Worker ws surprised to find Mr. Ecklund at home and he said he was sorry to be at home but that he was unemployed. He had been laid off about three weeks ago and has been unsuccessful in finding steady employment since. ...(misc. notes)... The couple are seriously considering moving to Fort Worth (Texas) and taking a job opportunity. It is plainly seen the Ecklunds are still young in their marriage and are one of the many young couples facing several changes before settling into an established position. Because of these temporary situations, Mr. and Mrs. Ecklund wish to proceed with adoption as most likely they will go on to Fort Worth within the next month or two.

They told that Linda's quivering spells are now almost terminated. They seldom occur and they believe she is becoming more adjusted to strangers. They have not found her unusually sensitive in other areas and believe now the doctor will give a recommendation that adoption be started.

Worker observed the child to be a happy, alert little girl. She was eager about being into the bookcase and the what-not shelves. Her mother took most of the responsibility for guidance during such investigations. Mrs. Ecklund seemed to be at ease and patient during such investigations, but worker wonders how long her patience will last. Mrs. Ecklund seems to be rather limited and flighty and a person who may not wear well. (In fact, she was an alcoholic who had a history of instability in her youth, and at one point some years later, after I had been removed from her custody, she was described by a hospital where she was committed for evaluation as having the social conscience of a fifteen year old. How strange to me that the worker picked up on this in her!) Mr Ecklund took no or little initiative in assisting his wife during such moments of curiousity. Yet on the other hand, he was affectionate and demonstrative with the child....On the whole, worker would not recommend a second placemement with this couple even though they were financially secure unless the adjustment of Linda proved to be a wholesome, happy one.

5-4-49: Mrs. Ecklund phoned to say they have now definitely considered going to Fort Worth.

5-9-49: Phone call from Mr. Hutchins who explained that the Ecklunds have engaged him as their attorney.

5-13-49: Phone call from Mrs. Ecklund explaining they are planning definitely to go to Texas. The Consolidated Aircraft Company is holding her husband's job open until they can arrive. The only thing holding them now are the adoption proceedings. (Under normal circumstances, adoptions were not finalized until after an entire year of supervision - they were asking for that to be cut short due to the move.)

6-28-49: Letter from Mr. Hutchins, attorney, advising that decree of adoption was entered in the County Court of Cook County on June 22, 1949, whereby Linda Irene Crawley was legally adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Tom Ecklund, and the child's name changed to Linda Jean Ecklund.

8-31-49: Case closed. Child legally adopted.

It's fitting that by coincidence I've finished this post on my birthday weekend. It was on my birthday a year ago that this whole journey of discovery began, the post that told about how I always asked questions on Mother's Day and my birthday, the post which found it's way to Kraig. But it hasn't just been my story, or Lillian's, or Tom and Irene's. It's about all those mother's who have given up their babies for whatever reason, all those hopeful adoptive parents, the children of adoption who long to know who they look like, and about all those boxes with information pertaining to those stories gathering dust somewhere.

Although I've finished going thru the papers Kraig uncovered, and finished with my 'search' for answers, I reserve the right to do one more post on what this has all meant to me, on what my reaction is to some of what I've found out, and most especially on what meeting a man like Kraig has meant to me. So: (to be continued...one more time)

Orphanage, Pt. 7: Relinquishment

2010-05-09T21:23:00.002-04:00

I was stunned when I read the last paragraph of the report from the United Charities of Chicago to the orphange . The hospital in which I was born was given instructions that Lillian 'is not to be given the baby at any time'. Of course, I know that that's not an uncommon practice, especially in 1948, but had hoped that in my case it would be different. I was hoping for a mother to child soliloquy along the lines of "I'm so sorry, baby! I want better for you than what I can provide. I will always remember the feel of you in my arms and your sweet little face". That was not the case, but I did find out that she didn't take the decision to give me up lightly.

"5-20-48: Worker visited Lillian at IRH (the hospital) today. Lillian stated her delivery was not difficult but she was looking forward to being discharged from the hospital as soon as possible. Her plans are to return to the Sara Hackett Home where she will stay until she can find other living arrangements. She stated that Mrs. Fox, her CW (case worker), was going to help her find a place to stay and also help her get employment. Lillian signed her paper surrendering her child to the agency."

After signing papers releasing me to the orphanage (not to be confused with relinquishment papers to be adopted), I was released to Lake Bluff Orpanage at almost two weeks old. I might have been released sooner, but there was a question of my being of low weight and of the orphanage being not quite ready for me. So, on May 26, 1948, eleven days old, I was picked up at the hospital by a case worker and taken to my temporary home, which noted that I was "a lovely little girl, well formed". And thus began those few months that have been shrouded in mystery, both in regard to myself and to what my mother was doing during that time period.

While I was beginning my new life in the orphanage, Lillian had gone back to the unwed mother's home. She took a job as a counter girl in a cafeteria at WMH (don't know what that was) while trying to decide what to do next with her life.

"7-6-48: Went to WMH today and was given permission to talk with Lillain......(misc. remarks)... It was apparent from the beginning that Lillian was not ready to sign final consent. She wanted to know more about our adoption program and the type of home the baby would go into. CW (caseworker) gave all assurance she could as to family we have and why it was best for the baby. Lillian then said 'I am afraid to adopt my baby out'. She knows she has no other plan as she is only able to support herself. She also knows a boarding home plan is unsatisfactory in the long run. She asked about her baby and CW described her. Lillian related easily to the worker, but tears came to her eyes during the interview. She definitely is perplexed in making her decision."

"There was a noticed change and a sigh of relief when the CW suggested that she would be glad to return in about 2 weeks. This would give Lillian time to rethink her decision and perhaps talk it over with Mrs. Fox (who was on vacation). She was given the CW's card and told to write her if there was any change in her plans. She said she did not think there would be any change but 'wanted a little time to think'".

"7-8-48: Phone call asking us to go along with Lillian until 8-5. They feel that Lillian is feeling the insecurity of not having Mrs. Fox on hand and has no one to turn to. If the worker could become acquainted with Lillian and perhaps visit her once more, they feel she will be willing to sign as soon as Mrs. Fox returns."

"7-29-48: Lillian is now employed in the Dixon Grill which is a small soda fountain...(misc. notes)...she was glad to see the worker and we talked together in one of the social service department offices."

"We had no sooner been seated when Lillian explained that 'I guess I am ready to sign final consent..........'. She explained that after she talked with the worker she had thought definitely in terms of keeping the baby. But the more she thought of how her baby would not have a stable home life nor two sets of grandparents, the more she realized that that was too much for her baby to miss. She was interested in knowing what kind of family the baby would have, but was especially interested in the grandparents. She herself has had little home life of any kind or contact with grandparents. She repeated that fact several times during the conversation and usually added the statement 'I never had a place to bring my friends.' " (Remember, she had already stated that she left home initially at age 16 because her maternal grandfather had moved into their home, was very strict, and they did not get along well at all.)

"Lillian ws composed and relaxed during the interview. She is more settled in her job and enjoys living in the girls' club (I'm thinking this is something like the YWCA that she lived in when she first left home). She expressed being glad that she was not living at Sarah Hackett and that she did not want to return there with her baby. She seems quite ready to sign final papers and will look forward to seeing the worker at that time."

"8-9-48: CW met Lillian today at the FSB office where she signed final consent. As Lillian had already reviewed the paper with CW, she had few questions regarding it. CW did take time to explain some of the details of the paper once again because she felt Lillian was trying hard to keep her emotions under control. Some time was also taken to explain some of the background of the prospective adoptive parents, the Ecklunds. Here again, Lillian was accepting of the information. She signed final consent and thanked the CW for being so interested in her and her baby."(I believe she's referring to Mrs. Fox, the case worker from United Charities.)

"CW then offered to drive Lillian to work as she was driving in that direction. As we went down in the elevator, Lillian gave the CW the copy of the final consent which CW had given her to read as she explained the details of the paper. She said she did not wish to keep the paper as it only served as a reminder. The girl was told that the baby would go into it's adoptive home within the next three or four days. She again expressed her gratefulness to the CW for finding such a fine home for the baby."

This ended Lillian's part in the 'story' of my birth and relinquishment for adoption. I had always wondered if she had a hard time giving me up - and I now know that she did. I had never blamed her for 'giving me away' or anything like that, or felt bitter towards her...just curious. To read the account of her struggle was very touching for me. Although I was disappointed that she had never seen or held me, I know now that I had been in her heart, and that has made all the difference. It erased the picture I had of her in my head the last thirty years that was taken from the later accounts of the alcoholic and neglectful mother who eventually lost her other four children. I now can see her as a teenage girl who found herself in a position that even an adult would have trouble with, pregnant with no means of taking care of a baby. She did the best she could, made the only decision that made sense at that time.

Lillian would eventually return to Galveston. Family lore has it that she called the orphanage and was told that I had died in a fire. I now don't think that's what happened. The records kept by United Charities and especially by the orphanage were very detailed, and I think that the thought was that if the baby turned adult came looking, the information would be there, that the story would come full circle. Kraig thinks, and I agree, that Lillian, perhaps, made the story up to stop the family from asking about it, to put an end to the story.

Next, the papers tell about the investigation of the adoptive family before my time at the orphanage ends. (...to be continued)

Orphanage, Part 6: Lillian's Story

2010-05-03T18:01:00.006-04:00

Last May 2009, I did a post giving a brief history of having been adopted, and how every year on my birthday I wonder anew what it was like for my mother to give up a baby, and what those three months I spent in the orphanage were like.

Here it is almost a year later, and I'm once again talking about Lake Bluff Orphanage. Only this time I have answers to many of the questions I've asked myself over the years. Thanks to that original post, a door was opened, and a kind man named Kraig xxx walked thru with a map of sorts, of the journey my mother took toward my birth and relinquishment to the orphanage, a record of the mysterious three months I was in the orphanage, and the beginning of my journey with the new adoptive parents. A greater gift has never been received.

Coming to Georgia from Lake Bluff, Illinois to interview me for a documentary he's doing on the orphanage, Kraig sweetened the deal with the delivery of two sets of records: (1) four typewritten pages of a letter written by Women's Service Division, Family Service Bureau, United Charities of Chicago in April 1948 to Lake Bluff Orphanage, and (2) twelve typewritten pages of records kept by Lake Bluff Orphanage beginning April 1948 and ending in August 1949.

The information in this post is taken from the letter from United Charities, who were acting as a liason between the unwed mother's home and the orphanage. It's waaay too long to tell every word, so I'm going to chose only those areas that were the most important or interesting, though it's still long. Seriously, both sets of records are so detailed, stating every occasion and what was said or done. I could paraphrase certain areas, but really - these are 61 year old records, and I think it's kind of cool to see what was said and done back then! Also, I think you could replace Lillian's name with any unwed mother's name, and it could be their story.

Remember the version of the story I've had for over 30 years? That Lillian hitchhiked to Chicago to find Don Miner, my supposed dad who was from there, and she either couldn't find him or was rejected by him, ended up living with a policewoman until the neighbors complained about an unwed mother in the neighborhood? And she was putting me up for adoption because her dad said if she brought the baby home he would kill the both of them? True and False. Here's a summary of what is reported in their records: (In the reprint of the original records, all names are blacked out with marker, but some can be assumed as I already knew many of the names I was dealing with. Every 'Miss Crawley was marked out!)

"Miss Crawley was referred to us through the Municipal Court, Court of Domestic Relations, when they learned that one of their policewomen had taken her into her home. This policewoman had met Miss Crawley when she walked into the police station, and rather than reporting her request to her supervisor, with whom there have been frequent quarrels, the policewoman extended her hospitality, and Miss Crawley went home with her. During her ten days stay, the policewoman telephoned Miss Crawley's parents in order to identify her, and at the same time gave them the information that Miss Crawley was pregnant. Miss Crawley had not wanted to notify her parents of her condition and claims that she ran away from Texas in order to prevent them from learning of her pregnancy."

"When the police department learned of the policewoman's action, they sent two policewomen out to the home to pick Miss Crawley up, and, unfortunately, kept her overnight in a police lockup, referring her the following morning to us for help in planning. By this time, Miss Crawley was thoroughly confused, wondering why the police were in on the situation at all. Also, the policewoman who had taken her in had arranged for private medical care, and Miss Crawley was perfectly content to continue with these arrangements. It was not until after we explained to her that the policewoman who befriended her had violated the rules of her job, and therefore had gotten both of them into trouble, was Miss Crawley able to express her desire to live with other girls where she would be free from interference."

"Once Miss Crawley was moved into Sarah Hackett Stevenson Memorial Home, she was quite relieved and was willing to break off the private medical arrangements planned for her by the policewoman. We talked to the doctor at one point when we needed the results for the Wasserman and Kahn tests so that Miss Crawley could be admitted to Sarah Hackett Stevenson Memorial Home. Our own impression of the doctor was that he had been too willing to offer her free medical care, so that we suspected that he might have been interested in the adoption of Miss Crawley's baby. Arangements were made for Miss Crawley to be delivered at Illinois Research Hospital and she has kept her appointments regularly." (In case you haven't figured it out yourself, the assumption is that the doctor and the policewoman were probably in cahoots in 'private' child adoptions.)

"Miss Crawley impresses us as being an extremely naive and unsophisticated girl who is quite gullible. She was extremely bewildered by the amount of controversy she stirred up in the police department when she hadn't done anything wrong. In our planning with her, she has assumed responsibility for appointments, and has been very adequate in finding her way around Chicago, and in carrying through her responsibilities. She also has a very good sense of reality and her common sense usually produces good judgement on her part."

(Next is a long listing of family information regarding her mother, father, grandparents, family history, etc., some of which I knew, some not, but very detailed about her family and the various relationships. Apparently her maternal grandfather lived with them and was very strict, and they did not get along, and that is why she left home at sixteen to live in the YWCA.)

"Miss Crawley could give very little information about the putative father. The name he gave her was (name blacked out), and he was twenty-three years old. Because she observed that he wore a high school graduation ring, she assumed that he had finished high school. He talked of being the only child and said that he was spoiled because of this."

"Last July, Miss Crawley met the putative father at a roller skating rink in Houston, Texas, and claims that on August first had intercourse with him at a hotel in Houston. In the morning he left saying that he would return and that they would go to Galveston to be married. When he did not show up, she began to wonder, and soon learned that he was not returning to her. She made several return trips to Houston to find him, and finally decided to hitch hike to Chicago with the hope of finding a cousin here who could take care of her." (So, not there to look for my father, as I had been told by Aunt Helen, who would have been eleven at the time.)

"The putative father's complexion was quite a contrast to her family. He had black hair, dark eyes, and an olive tan skin. She thinks that he was about five feet eleven inches tall, and weighed about one-hundred and seventy-five pounds. She said that he was built very well and had wide, broad shoulders."

"As we considered how Miss Crawley got into this pregnancy at this time, she felt it was because she was completely overwhelmed by his attention, and very unprotected being away from home in a strange hotel."

"We have arranged with Illinois Research Hospital that Miss Crawley is not to be given her baby at any time. We will let you know as soon as we hear that she is in the hospital so that you can begin planning to move the baby to your nursery." (Not to be given her baby at any time? Then how could she make an informed decision about what to do? Of course I know that they were trying to take the 'sentiment' out of the equation and have her make the decision with her 'brain', but this also means that my romanticized version of her having held me lovingly and having a mother to child soliliquy before making the decision was not a reality.)

Next post, the difficult decision by Lillian to relinquish her baby for adoption. Most babies at the orphanage were adopted within the first two weeks, a month at the most. I was there for almost three months before Lillian signed the final papers to relinguish for adoption. (to be continued...)

Orphanage, Part 5: The Interview

2010-04-28T17:32:00.008-04:00

You know how they say that you should take someone with you when you go to an important doctor's appointment, because, when the news is about you, you can't absorb it? That you need that third party to listen and to take notes so that they can go over it with you later? That's how today was.

Kraig arrived at our home around noon. He wasn't anything like I expected, though I'm not really sure what I expected! Cute as the dickens, I think he said he was about 45 years old, and just very easy and casual. I had warned him about our dogs, how they would bark like crazy for the first thirty minutes before they settled down. So he came with a box of Three Dog Bakery dog treats! He had also brought a black screen cloth, two unbrella lights, a tripod, a video recorder, etc.

We visited for a little bit, my daughter and husband showed up and we visited a little more, he set up his equipment and hung the black background on the curtains, attached the mic to me, sat me in a chair, started asking me questions based on my blog posts and on the emails he and I have exchanged, and on the information that he had found and I had yet to know about.

And what information he found! Never in my wildest dreams did I think he'd have this much! Some of it I already knew, some I wasn't expecting at all, and some just blew me away. To say I was stunned would be an understatement. To say that I'm still numb three hours later would be accurate. I'm not an overly emotional person in public, but my heart was beating wildly and my ears were ringing the entire time with suppressed emotion. And that's why I can't tell you about it right now. I've yet to process it.

That bag at the beginning? That's an early birthday gift from Kraig. It contains a book of the history of Lake Bluff, Illinois (with a section on the orphanage), a dvd of interviews with the two nurses who would have been my nurses for the three months I was there, pictures of the orphanage as it looked then, photos of the nursery and the cribs...and two sets of documents covering the end of my mother's pregnancy starting in April 1948 when the unwed mother's home is making arrangements for me to be placed in the orphanage, thru to the one year evaluation of me with my adoptive parents, all the way to "August 31, 1949 Case closed. Child legally adopted."

Some of the things I thought I knew about my birth, my biological mother and her family, were false. Everything I thought I knew about my biological dad was false. Things I knew a little about were elaborated on. New facts emerged about my maternal family, my mother's pregnancy, and my birth and time at the orphanage. Most was good. As soon as I read the papers again, look at the dvd, and maybe look at the video that my daughter took, I will be able to focus enough to make a post about all that I learned today.

For now, let me just say this. I turn 62 on May 15, and I never thought I would get this kind of birthday present at this age. Did I mention that I'm stunned? And that Kraig has got to be one of the nicest people I've ever met? And that he came all the way from Chicago to Ringgold, Georgia to give me the results of this research he did for someone he'd never met, who he only found out about last year from my mentioning Lake Bluff Orphanage in a blog post?

Yes, indeed, I am stunned. (...to be continued)

Orphanage, Pt. 4

2010-04-23T08:46:00.006-04:00

Having already informed me that he will be coming to interview me on April 28, Kraig writes again. I had told him in my reply that I had googled him and found some very nice things about him, about his involvement in his community, to which he responds here.

April 14, 2010

Must be another Kraig xxxx. All kidding aside, people tend to make a bigger deal out of things than they need to when it comes to publicity. I don't know if you've ever seen the movie 7 LBS with Will Smith from a couple years ago. I'm not a very big Will Smith fan, but it's a powerful movie, and there's a line in the movie when he is visiting a hockey coach and the coach asks him why Will's character is giving him a "gift". (I won't ruin the movie as to what the gift is if you haven't seen it.) But Will's character replies something to the effect " because you do good things for people when nobody is watching". I would like to think I'm the same, but there's always a lot of people "watching" where I live that I can't necessarily escape.

As far as flights go, thanks for your offer about Chattanooga, but I'm going to stick with my Nashville plan. I found direct flights from Chicago to Nashville each way that get me there in a little over an hour, and for just $59 each way! I couldn't ride a moped to your place and back for less, not to mention the time savings too. Chicago to Chattanooga flights were all $300+. With no direct flights---so even with the rental car, I'm still way ahead. And the more I can save, the more I can give to the Vliet Museum in the long run. So I'll see you on the 28th.

Your "fans" that are following your blog are putting a lot of heat on me to produce some life changing information. I know from what you wrote that you're not expecting much, so if you go into our meeting with that attitude, I'll hopefully leave you feeling happy and your soul a little more filled.

Just so you can sleep at night, I'm not going to show up with some 82-year-old hairy-eared-man with no teeth by my side and say he's your father. So no Luke Skywalker/ Darth Vader "Luke, I'm your father" surprises --so you can relax about that.

But I do certainly know a bunch about the people who took care of you the first three months of your life, and have some stories to share that I've discovered since sending you the first DVD that I think would best be done in person. Any additional tidbits, or, as you said, "nuggets" of information that my contact at Cxxx can give me to give to you when I meet with her next week, will be gravy to what I already know and had been planning to give you for over six months now.

So hopefully that will take some of the anxiety away from my approaching visit. Should any emergency come up and you need to reach me... Here's my cell xxx... Kraig

In just a few more days I will know...what? There's no sense in trying to guess or speculate, as I haven't a clue what's in store! But this I do know. Anything I find out will be exciting, and will add so much to what little I know about my early life story. It won't change anything then or now, but it will be nice to know.

I actually never thought too much about having been in an orphanage as an infant when I was growing up, especially since I was there such a short time. (The only thing I knew about orphanages was from David Copperfield and Annie!) My thoughts leaned more to my birth mother and why she had given me up, or to how my life surely would have been different or better if she had kept me (not so, as we found out!).

It wasn't until I had my own daughter that my thoughts turned to the orphanage, and again when she had her two children. We both took so many photos those first three months! Photos of so many moments that covered no particular milestone except that they were born and they were ours and they were beautiful and loved. So I naturally would have the passing thought about my first three months. Was I left to cry in a crib all day, receiving attention only when I was wet and hungry, or did they have caretakers and volunteers who held me and interacted with me, cooed and hummed lullabys?

Well, I may still not find out the answer to those questions, but I'll let you know what information Kraig does bring me, so tune in on the evening of April 28!

Orphanage, Pt. 3

2010-04-18T12:41:00.003-04:00

This isn't the email I had intended to post, the one I mentioned at the end of Orphanage Pt. 2. from Kraig xxxx. (As a reminder, he is doing a documentary on Lake Bluff Orphanage, and has offered to do research on my time there in 1948.) I think the two most current ones sum everything up pretty good, so I'll post this one first, and the other one later in the week. (I don't expect you to be able to keep up with all of this...there have been so many emails that I have trouble myself! Since I'm skipping some, you might feel that some 'pieces' missing.)

April 14, 2010

"Linda, how are you doing?I wanted to let you know my tentative plans. I've booked a flight to come see you on Wednesday, April 28th. I would fly into Nashville, which seems to be the closest and most economic flight situation with a rent a car. Flight gets in shortly before 8:00AM and I would then drive to your home and arrive around 12 noon or shortly before that?

I had hoped to do a short interview with you where you can tell your story. Basically everything you've written about, but just filmed. And then I plan to give you whatever information I have for you to fill in some details about what I could find about your first 3 months of life at the Lake Bluff Orphanage. I don't have any information or report yet from your file from my contact at Cxxx, but she's on the case! She should have this all together by this date.

I would leave around 3:00 pm to get back to Nashville to catch a flight that leaves at 7:00pm. Does this day and timing work for you? As far as the interview would go, the only thing I would need is for you to sign a video release saying it's ok to film you. I'm new at all this, but the video guy who runs the video program at the local high school who's assisting me when I have questions gave me a standard release form that he said I need to have everyone sign. All the kids at the school need to use them for any video projects kids are making for class.

The video I'm doing is a gift from me to my town. I'm giving it to the Vliet Museum of Lake Bluff History and they plan to show it over the Christmas season for a few nights as a fund raiser for the museum. The only thing I'm asking for is reimbursement for my expenses from the museum to make it. ...(portion deleted)... Anything beyond my expenses the museum will keep.

You can have anyone over at your house when we do this. I don't know if your daughter is around - hopefully your husband. I think they'd all share in some joy of what I hope to present to you this day . It would just need to be pretty quiet for the interview portion - the mic I use is really sensitive and picks up the most remote sounds.

Anyway, let me know if this all works, so I have time to cancel or change my flights around. The sooner the better, as you know, flights get more expensive the later you make changes.Best regards, Kraig

April 14, 2010, my reply:

The 28th sounds fine! Did you check for a flight into Chattanooga? It seems like relatives always come in to Nashville, but we've always used Chattanooga. Maybe it's more expensive? On the other hand, unless you have your mind set on getting a rental car and/or doing sightseeing, you could come into Chattanooga even if it was a little higher, and I could pick you up and return you and save you the rental fee and drive! We're only maybe 30 minutes from the airport, an easy drive down I-75. Just an idea. Whatever works for you! We're not a big family and don't have a bunch of friends that would come over even if we won a million dollars, so there shouldn't be any problem other than dogs barking, which we can try to hold to a minimum by getting them some extra long-lasting treats. The grandsons will be in school. I'm looking forward to meeting you, Kraig! I googled you, so know that this isn't the only good deed with your name attached to it ... unless there's another Kraig xxx! ... Linda

Ok, I don't know about you, but this turn of events seemed to come out of the blue, even though he had told me that someday he hoped to interview me. "Someday", to me, was...sometime in the distant future, maybe in the summer! And yet here it is, coming up in little over a week! The email he sent the next day is quite funny, so come back later in the week to check it out. (to be continued...)

Note to self: Get hair trimmed, get chip in front tooth fixed, do spring cleaning, find special treats to keep dogs from barking for a couple of hours...

Wednesday's Wander to the Wayside: My Early Spring Garden

2010-04-14T18:27:00.001-04:00

Today we're wandering to the wayside from your vantage point, but not mine...we're looking at my own garden! We went from winter to summer here this last few weeks, literally. From the 60s to the 80s and a sun so bright it could burn your eyeballs. I swore last year that I was going to paint my front door from dark green to white (it gets so hot that Conner burnt his hand last year), but with it being so hot already there's no way. Well, maybe we'll have some more seasonal weather before June actually gets here.

In the meantime, the garden is waking up. The daffodils/tulips/iris are absolutely gorgeous in our area this year (though my iris aren't even in bud yet), but, sadly, they're also fading fast because of the intense heat. Most knockout roses are already covered with buds, and all the flowering shubs and trees are blooming at the same time (forsythia, lorapedlum, dogwood, bradford pear, etc.), thus making this one of the worst allergy seasons we've had in a long time. Fortunately for me, most of my allergies are in the fall, but Garrett, the 7 year old grandson, really suffers.

I've had these strawberries for about eight years, or at least they're from the original ones I bought then, and I moved them into pots a few years back because our pasture grass would not leave them alone, and David didn't have time to do raised beds. They get their first delicious bounty by the end of May, and then another batch at the end of the summer.

This is the krawnzan cherry tree that we're still not sure will survive. It took a terrible drought hit it's first two summers, got canker, and the trunk somehow went all crooked. I'm having to prune the branches on one side to keep it from getting too heavy on that side and falling over! But it's right next to the deck, providing much needed shade in a few years, and a spot for birds to nest (if we ever get any).

David's always bring home cool pieces of wood, and lambs ear always softens it's edges. I just got thru cleaning this one up - if you've ever had one (lamb's ear) you know what an ugly mess they are at the end of winter!

This is a Lithodora, which is a ground cover that has a dark blue flower against dark green foliage that blooms thru June. I bought it thinking it was Forget- Me -Not, obviously not reading the tag. It was a deeper blue when I brought it home, but the sun has kind of faded it. I can't wait to see how it does, as it was one of those blues that just jumps out at you, and it will spread to 2-3' and reseed.

This bush is a witch hazel, and you really need to enlarge it to see the spidery flowers. This poor bush has been dug up and dragged to I don't know how many houses, but has finally come into it's own now that it's had four years to recover from the last move. It starts blooming in early March, or even in December if we have a warm year.

You just can't beat a tulip, can you?

And now, a sad story. This next photo is of a resident hawk (not sure which kind). Because of him, and the resident mockingbird, we have NO BIRDS. Seriously. Remember those beautiful bluebirds from last summer? No bluebirds. The bright yellow finch at the living room window? Nada. On the plus side, we also have no sparrows, but I'd gladly welcome them back if it meant the others would follow! Enlarge if you think you can identify it, or just to see the mean look in his eye! He can turn his head all the way around, and is so quick it's like watching a magic trick. He will sit there for hours and hours, and couldn't care less that I'm watching him. This shepherd's hook is only five feet outside the window, and he looked me in the eye when I took this photo!

The only bird he hasn't caught or threatened is...the f***ing (yes, I know, those of you who know me are surprised that I didn't say it out loud) MOCKINGBIRD that tormented the bluebirds last year, and has taken over the back yard to the nth degree already this year, including chasing away the bluebirds and cardinals before my very eyes. I actually have a video of two mockingbirds having a territorial fight out back, but couldn't get it to upload.

All this started when I put out feeders this winter. Birds of all kinds came from miles around to feast in my yard during our four snows, until the starlings also arrived. And then the hawk. And then the mockingbird. But it all started with the feeders, and I'm sure the hawk was circling overhead and saw them all hanging out. So it's my fault. As for what to do about it, I don't know. I'm guessing that we can't shoot either bird (except in my dreams), so I'm at a loss. Any suggestions? Imagine, a nice big yard with trees, bushes, and flowers...AND NO BIRDS!!!

One last thing...I didn't take a photo of it but will mention it anyway. Did you ever make a donation to something like the Arbor Day Foundation, and get fifty twigs in the mail that you're supposed to plant? Well, last year, that's exactly what happened. I think I forgot to take them out of the plastic bag they arrived in, and they got soggy and moldy. I stuck three in a pot of dirt to see what would happened, and promptly forgot about them. Until this week. Lo and behold, what do you think is growing in that pot? A Sargent Crabapple, a Golden Rain Tree, and either a dogwood or crepe myrtle. The problem is that the color code has worn off, so although for some reason I still had the descriptions pamphlet within easy reach, I don't know which is which. Oh wait, I guess there is a drawing for leaf identification, so that might help. Except that the trees are very misshapen trunk wise (or twig wise I should say), so I'm not sure if planting them would be a smart thing to do. Though I guess it won't hurt to give it a try. They couldn't look worse than the trunk of the cherry tree!

Happy gardening to all! I'm enjoying seeing everyone else's spring flowers, and I look forward to seeing the fruit of YOUR efforts in the coming months.

Orphanage Pt 2

2010-04-05T17:51:00.006-04:00

As I told you in part one of The Adoption Story that Keeps on Giving, I received an email from Kraig xxx last May after I had mentioned Lake Bluff Orphanage in one of my posts about adoption. He and a friend were doing research on the orphanage, and he was interested in my story. He also had a dvd that he sent me of the early days of the orphanage, filmed about ten years before I was there in 1948. I didn't mention it here at the time because I was going to wait to see how things turned out, if he finished the documentary, etc.

Over the last ten months, Kraig and I have exchanged many emails, both about my story and about his documentary, and then this last Christmas(2009) I wrote to see if the documentary had been finished on time and how it went. A couple of weeks ago, March 2010, I received the following email:

Linda, How are you? I've taken about a 3 month break from the film documentary to concentrate on my full-time work. Now I've got a 6-week block of time I'm committing to getting back on it. I was wondering ....

1) Did you ever find out who was your biological father? If I could find that out for you, would you care to know? I'm not sure I can get it, even if it's available without a court order , but I thought I'd ask.

2) You said in your original post that, "I would have loved to have had at least one photo of that time, either of someone holding me in the orphanage, or especially of Lillian holding me before she signed therelinquishment papers." If such a photo existed, would you allow me to find it for you?

The reason I'm asking all this is some of this information MIGHT exist. I use the word might, because I don't know quite yet, but I'd like to find out for you. You usually need to have a lawyer or a person who specializes in adoption searches do this for you, which can cost in the thousands. I'm happy to find out for you at no expense. I've come across a person on the "inside" (so to speak) that has become a pretty good friend while I've been working on this project. She's pretty good about getting me what I need without all the red tape that you might have to go through yourself. I've read different "posts" from some adoption websites that complain that nobody returns their calls, or they come to a dead end with finding what they need from this same organization that holds all the files. Here's a chance to try to gain any info that might be available for you very easily.

Here's what she wrote me that I would need from you to, pardon my French, cover her "ass" ... 1) A letter from the original person(s) - (that's you) stating: their name (and adopted name if it is different from their name now), their adopted parents' name, their birthdate. 2) A letter form the original person(s) stating that they are "granting XXXX permission to release any and all biological information related to the adoption that took place through the Lake Bluff Children's Home to Kraig xxx". Let me know

Well, as you can imagine, this was quite exciting news! Not that I have any illusions about what he could find, but just the idea that there might be some nugget of information out there that has escaped my attention would be a bonus addition to my story!

For example, as I told Kraig in one of my emails, referring to the letter that Homes for Children had sent about my mother in 1978, the letter said that "the record shows of no further contact with her after signing the relinquishment." Yet I have it from two sources that this is not the case. When I first contacted my aunt Helen, when I told her what my birth name was and when I was born, she screamed "oh my God, you're Lillian's oldest daughter, the one she gave up for adoption! We were told that you had died in a fire!" She's the one who told me that Lillian and her mother had called to check on me, to see if I'd been adopted, and were told that I had died in a fire. And the older lady I spoke of, who said that every May 15th Lillian sat at her table talking about the baby she gave up for adoption, said that Lillian never got over that she had been told I had died in a fire. But, as I said before, I believe this was not an uncommon practice back then" (to give the death story to the biological parent, or to not give all aspects of the information to an adoptee).

Also, the orphanage letter said that "we have no information about the putative father except her report that he was 23 years of age, had dark hair, and probably had graduated from high school." My question has always been 'would a 19 year old girl, away from home and across the country for the first time, be able to go thru an unwed mothers home and this adoption process and not share something else in the course of the conversation, like that she came to Chicago from Texas because that's where he was from, and he either rejected her or she couldn't find him?' And 'really, she didn't even mention that he was in the service at the time, like in the Navy and stationed in Galveston, this during a time when so many young men were in the service?' I guess it's possible, but if there was even a small notation answering these questions, I'd like to know about it. And what if she had actually said his name, Don Miner, and the adoption guy who wrote me had chosen not to give it?

In other words, if this current 'inside' person that Kraig talked about is able to access my records and the information contained in them, I would love to see it. On the other hand, if nothing else is there that I don't already know, then no harm is done in trying. Right? And let me make it clear here, I am not expecting anything, only indulging in some wishful thinking, and I'll not be overly disappointed if nothing comes up.

I had another nice email from Kraig that I'd like to share with you, but it's too long for here. I'll try to do that another time as it shows a lot about the character of the man who is offering to do this, as well as his acknowledgement that I had already, indeed, obtained a lot of information on my own or from the orphanage guy, and wasn't sure himself exactly how much more there could be. I've got my permission letter printed and ready to put in the mail. In the meantime, we will just have to wait however long it takes for any new information ...or no information!

Let me add, too, that one of the reasons I find this whole situation so fascinating is not just because of my story or what information might be in it for me. But just think about it - orphanages in the United States are pretty much a thing of the past, at least on a large scale like Lake Bluff was. Most cities have gone to the foster home system. So for hundreds of thousands of adopted children who are now adults, there is a box in some attic, warehouse or basement collecting dust, and containing information that they may never be able to access because it's not permitted under the rules of the system. Information that could complete the fabric of their life, could answer their questions. What a shame.

Orphanage: Pt 1

2010-03-21T21:12:00.012-04:00

After I mentioned in one of my earlier posts that I had been adopted from the Lake Bluff Orphanage in illinois, I received an email from a man who was doing a documentary on the orphanage, which had since closed. Iwas shocked, until he said that he had heard about my mention of the orphanage from an article in a community web newsletter, by someone who had apparently flagged the name and had told part of my story on their website! Here is that email:

Dear Linda, My name is Kraig xxx. I am forty-four years old and a lifelong resident of Lake Bluff, Illinois, where the orphanage you were adopted from was once located. If you happen to get some e-mails or posts from people in town this week, know that it’s because “The Gazebo News”, which is the official Lake Bluff web news site posted a link to your story.

My childhood home was just four doors down from the orphanage. My brother and I played with kids from the orphanage and one child (now a man) is a good friend and was in my wedding as well as my brother’s wedding. I was so touched and moved by your story. The irony and timing of reading your story is even more incredible. You see, the orphanage is no longer here. It was torn down in the 1979, much to the dismay of many disheartened community members. When the orphanage was closed, the name changed to Childserve and offices were relocated to another community about 15 mines north of here.

This year, The Vliet Historical Center in Lake Bluff received a huge box of information containing orphanage scrap books of pictures, news paper clippings, etc. from Childserve dating back to 1900 when the orphanage began. Also included were journals and photo albums from many of the superintendents that ran the orphanage. I have been “sifting through" all this stuff for the past two months because I am currently in the process of writing and producing a documentary about the orphanage with another lady in town, Cathy xxx. We are not a professional film makers, but we love to make movies on subjects we are passionate about.

So here’s what I can tell you that might fill in some blanks: The building at the top of your page is the Mackey Memorial Building. It was one of eight-red Georgian brick buildings that took up an entire block which was the orphanage. The picture of you below with your adoptive mother is taken on the front steps of the Mackey Memorial Building. The gray-haired lady to the left is Ms. Margaret Brooks, the 3rd superintendent of the orphanage in 1942. The other woman is not familiar to me.

Many of the new infants spent their first few months in the nursery at the Swift Health Care Building (located just 100 yards east of the Mackey Memorial Building) or at Mackey. The Mackey Memorial Building was the built as the primary replacement school building.The first floor contained school classrooms, a nursery and administrative offices for the staff. The second floor contained more classroom space, a library, chapel and a room for tutoring. The basement space was used primarily for industrial education space, including a print shop, wood shop, shoe repair and clothes shop and club rooms. Mrs. McIntosh & her husband, a wealthy Lake Forest couple, donated the funds for the building and requested no expense be spared to make it as attractive as possible for the children.

I have an original short 10 minute video (8 mm film) that was taken in 1931 that brings everything to life that I’ve had transferred to DVD that I’d be happy to send to you. It’s pretty rough and jumps around alot like much of the film taken at that time. There are some quick shots of the nursery that you more than likely spent the first three months of your life at. I also will keep my eyes open for pictures and the time that you were there. Because you were there for a short time, odds of a picture, other than the one you already have, may be rare. Most of the pictures seem to be of kids ages 2 to 10 years who spent many years of their lives at the facility. If you would like to send me your mailing address, please feel free and I’ll send a copy of the DVD to you. My cell number if you wish to talk is xxxx.

After the initial shock of reading this email, which came totally out of the blue, I went to the website that had apparently referenced my post, and when I read it I was momentarily confused, thinking that I was reading about someone who had a similar story to mine! Realizing they were talking about me, I left a comment about my shock and a little about how I felt about being adopted and the hole it leaves in your history.

True to his word, Kraig sent the cd, and I was so touched by seeing actual 'life' at the orphanage, knowing that but for the luck of the draw I could have been one of those children who went into toddler-hood and beyond there, but also knowing that one of those people in this 1938 footage could have been someone who actually held me all those years later in 1948.

Ok, fast forward to January 2010. I remembered that Kraig had said that he planned on presenting his documentary in December 2009, and wrote to ask him how it had gone. This was his response:

Good to hear from you. I haven't spoken to you in awhile, so some updates: This has taken me on a journey FAR more than I ever thought when I started the project. My original thought was to tell how the orphanage got started, how it ran in the early days and the important people that made that happen, and then close with the closing and destruction of the buildings - end of story.

What has happened in the process of researching and contacting countless people to tell the story has lead to a story of reuniting old friends and staff. I've been able to reunite kids who were at the orphanage for many years of their lives and who had lost track of their friends - many of which were basically their only family growing up. This has taken me to New Mexico, Denver and other places in Illinois I can drive to. I'll be going to Arizona in March.

I may even come to see you - if that's okay somewhere down the road to have you tell your story. So that being said ... I realized a few months ago that this story is not going to be finished until NEXT Christmas. I think the last time we were in contact it was over 4 or 5 months ago when I thought I could have this done by this X-Mas.

So, if you were under the assumption that my adoption story was over...you would be wrong! Because today, Sunday March 21, I have received yet another email from Kraig. More about that later. (to be continued...)

Blog Anniversay

2010-03-16T12:21:00.022-04:00

During the pain and sickness of the last month, I missed noting my blog anniverary - one year on Feb. 25. It's been an interesting year, I've met so many nice people, and I've learned a lot about myself, what I like and don't like. Like what, you might ask?

(1) I learned that as much as I like to write, I'm not really an author or an entertainer. I pretty much write as if I'm talking to someone in person, which is funny since I probably wouldn't be talking to you if you were here in person (we all know I have socialization issues!). There's not a lot of razzle dazzle or anything really educational, and to me seems almost boring, but also like talking to a neighbor over the fence. I've talked about bluebirds, snakes, flowers, pets, grandkids, driving down country roads, clouds, my 'stuff', pee on public toilet seats, cuckoo clocks, and adoption, childbirth, and miscarriages.

(2) I'm not attracted to a lot of razzle dazzle blogs, but rather to bloggers who talk from the heart and seem like regular everyday people I might meet over the back fence or in line at the grocery store, like Ginger with her chickens and Susie with her homemade dog treats. We have enough things in common to share an email here and there on this and that, and that's the part I really enjoy.

(3) I'm attracted to people who are 'flawed' in some way, like Annie at Quiet Commotion, who are working thru issues from a dysfunctional past or poor health and are not afraid to share their thoughts and feelings about it. This isn't surprising, since I had a dysfunctional past, and also wanted to be a social worker at one point in my life. Like I'm always saying, I love the blood and guts of what makes up a person's life along with the joys and triumphs.

(4) It took a while, but I finally found the older generation out there. In the beginning, because I was following my niece Wendy, I was seeing mostly stay-at-home moms and home schoolers, and a lot of crafters and ebayers. Then somewhere along the way I stumbled onto Julie at Midlife Jobhunter, and thru her blog list I found my 'niche'. Not that I don't enjoy the younger moms and women and their trip thru the adventure I've already been on, but I also like being able to talk about my grandsons with those who won't find it boring! And then there's Bernie at Old, Who Me? who is writing from her eighth decade of life!

(5) I'm attracted to people who love animals. Dana and I shared a gazillion emails about the death of her beloved Lucky and then the adoption of her new fella, Beau, and Donna and I have shared training ideas for her rescue Izzy. But even if it's just someone who loves their pet enough to show a photo now and then or who includes their pet in family news, like Mary's humongus poodle Griphon, that's the kind of person I like to read.
(6) I found a few men out there! Glenn and his down-home tales and short stories, Tim who writes quirky posts and poetry that he knows I don't 'get' but read anyway, and Dan and Ron who are photograhers who share their view of the world thru a lens.

(7) Comments are my favorite part of blogging (like you didn't know that already!). I've been known to leave comments longer than the other person's post, and I read all the comments that others leave on other's posts.

Well, I could go on and on. My follower list is pretty short compared to most of my readers, and my blog list isn't too long either. But that's fine with me - I think it feels more intimate. I won't link to everyone, as all you have to do is look at my list! In addition to the ones I've mentioned above, there's Lorna and her search for a healthy life, Ethlemae who writes the most incredibly detailed and entertaining stories of her real life, Renee with her three sons, Missy with her book reviews, Bernie at On My Own who is the nicest and most inspiring person I have ever 'met', Rosaria raising my social consciousness and sharing her passion for writing memoirs and encouraging others to do the same. I know I'm missing some, but my hands are getting tired of typing, and you'll know you're on my radar because I visit you on a regular basis!

In looking back over the posts I've done this last year - approximately 123 if you include those still in draft - I do have a few favorites, including Confessions of a Demented Mawmaw about my temper, Watch Out for the Animals about keeping an eye on our neighbors dogs, the one about the suicide of my brother-in-law titled How Do You Get That Lonely, and the series about our baby bluebird.

What about you? Is there any post or topic in particular that keeps you coming back to visit me?
If you haven't guessed already, this post is a thanks to all of you for stopping in to visit, for wandering to MY wayside, and for sharing yours with me.

More Eva Jean

2010-03-13T13:39:00.004-05:00

After several weeks of stomach virus and mind numbing back and hip pain, I haven't been able to focus on anything long enough to write about it. But I figure I can't go wrong with some photos of the white goddess.

Eva Jean and her flying duck taking a nap.

Enjoying a rare warm winter afternoon.

Indulging in an afternoon nap with blankie.

Tonight brings another time change ... bringing us closer to spring! It can't come soon enough for me! I look forward to seeing everyone's photos of spring flowers.

Friday's Favorites: Kitchen Window

2010-03-05T19:30:00.006-05:00

You may have heard me say that I have a really small kitchen, which means I also have a really small kitchen window. Like the buffet I've written about before, I have a tradition of what I put in any of my kitchen windows, the same thing every time: the stain glass flower that my sister-in-law, Sandy, made for me; a yellow flower pot that we inherited with the house we bought in 1974 with an ancestor of the ivy that was in it at that time, my bluebird sun catchers, old bottles that we've collected over the years, and seed packages.

Although the window is small, it looks out onto a large yard, only just coming into it's fourth summer of being somewhat landscaped. There were no trees or bushes when we moved here in Dec. 2005. On the horizon is the green area I've talked about before (the hundred year flood zone), where just today I watched a heron glide in and make a graceful landing, and where I look toward the awesome sunsets that we get all year round.

The photo above was taken when the rose of sharon was in it's first year of blooming, and the dogwood tree was also only two or three years old. The hummingbird feeder is hanging off the side of the deck and usually covered with and surrounded by hummingbirds, so we get to see them up close and personal as it's only three feet from the window.

This is about 7am on a foggy morning, with the moon still up in the sky. The crepe myrtles are so heavy with blooms and dew that they were dragging the ground.

So although the window is small, it looks out onto many wonders of nature. I can hardly wait until this coming spring and summer, when the bushes and trees will be reaching their maturity, and the cherry tree next to the deck will be tall enough so that we will be eye to eye any birds that nest there up. Only a few more months!

A Must Read

2010-03-02T10:10:00.004-05:00

If you haven't been to visit her already for this week's post, jump over to Ethelmae's place to read this story, the Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. Not only a review of a book about an incredible and true story that you probably heard about in the news, but how this true story touched her own life. She can spin quite a tale, this Ethelmae!

Visit with Dana

2010-02-23T21:41:00.011-05:00

(photo removed til Dana sends me one she took...yes, I hated it that much)

I was in the middle of doing dishes about 4pm on Monday, the phone rang, and it was Dana. They were here! Already! For some reason, I wasn't expecting them til 6pm, so I was a little unprepared, even though I've had several weeks to prepare. After we talked over each other for a few minutes trying to decide what to do - meet at the hotel, meet at McDonalds, come to my house - we decided that I would come to the hotel and they would come out to me in the parking lot. Then she and I would go 'somewhere'.

Why are these situations so...well, not exactly uncomfortable, but...yeah, uncomfortable? Do we hug, even though we don't really know each other, only each other's words? I'm not good at meeting people under the best of circumstances, either getting diarrhea of the mouth or not having any words at all, rarely an in-between conversationalist. And I have a bad habit of jumping into the middle of someone's sentence to insert my own comment before I forget about it, thus throwing the other person off script. Or I throw in a bunch of "me, too's!", or "you, too?"s. And what about a little gift? All the posts I've read about other blogger friends meeting talk about how they shared little trinkets with each other. I didn't have time to even go to the dollar store and get a snow globe with 'Ringgold, Georgia' on it, or an ashtray/spoon rest/shot glass with a Georgia peach on it!

Well, I hurriedly dealt with the dishes, made sure Conner (who I had been with all afternoon and who spends the night on Monday since he doesn't have school on Tuesday) knew that I was leaving and would be back soon and that Pawpaw would be here with him. Remembering at the last minute that I had forgotten to put a month worth of trash and clutter from the inside of my small Nisson into the trunk, I dealt with that and was on my way for the fifteen minute drive to the hotel.

There they were, standing at the door when I pulled into the parking lot in front of room 107. Looking just like the few photos of them on Dana's blog! It was then that I remembered the crack going across my windshield. Darn, I should have told her about that so she wouldn't think...well, I don't know what I didn't want her to think. We introduced ourselves, Joe thanked me for some of the emails I had sent to Dana during a rough patch, and I admired and petted Beau (who is adorable!).

Right away we decided to take photos, in case Joe was asleep when we came back. So, the photo above. Joe took a couple with my camera, a couple with theirs. And I hope to hell that their's turns out better, because I hate this one! Seriously, I know it's not that important, but what the hell was I thinking? Did I forget that this would be splashed across multiple screens out there in blogland? Where is my makeup? Where is the clip that's supposed to hold my bangs back? Oh, and that puckery smile, like I ate a lemon or dill pickle? I broke a chip off a front tooth last week, and was trying to not show it. Plus, Joe took forever to take the picture, as evidenced by Dana's grin...she finally told him that her cheeks were hurting from holding the smile!

So, to sum up the visit so far, they're waiting to meet a blogger friend in the parking lot of a hotel, and up drive's a stranger with a cracked tooth and a cracked windshield, no makeup and a month past a haircut. All that's missing is the bag of boiled peanuts.

Dana and I hop in my car and I drive her around Ringgold. Which took about five minutes. We ended up back at McDonalds, which is right in front of her hotel. After boring the cashier to tears with our confusion at the types of coffee drinks they had, we both got an iced mocha coffee and took our seats.

And talked. And talked. And talked over each other. And said a lot of "me, too!"s, and "you, too?"s. I won't reveal any of Dana's secrets here, but suffice it to say that the hour and a half flew by. And just when we were getting to the comfortable talk instead of the frantic talk, it was time to go. Dana had to go take some pills and get to bed ... (or so she said). I drove her to the hotel, a hug goodbye seemed natural, and neither of us were really ready to end the evening, but...end it we did. After saying our goodbyes, saying we'd keep in touch, she went to the door, and her key didn't work. Knocking to get Joe to open it for her, they waved the final goodbyes and I drove away, realizing as I looked at my watch that it was only 7pm.

How would I sum up the visit? Way too short! A lot in common and similar views on a lot of things. I think next time - and I'm sure there will be a next time if they go back to Florida - we will go somewhere other than McDonalds (the coffee was terrible and the lights too bright), and we won't talk so fast or rush so much and just relax and enjoy. In hindsight, I'm reminded of those speed dating things where you only have x number of minutes to get acquainted, so you say as much as you can about yourself in that time period. Next time we'll have laid the groundwork, and can just get on with building a long distance friendship that now has a firmer foundation. I heard a term the other day in regard to social networking that I thought rang so true, something about it lacking 'genuine interaction'. I think we now have that.

Now, I can't wait to hear what Dana has to say about our visit as soon as she gets her internet service! (And I can't wait to see what happens with my spacing here, because every time I do preview it has no spacing for paragraphs.)

My Week in Review

2010-02-19T19:30:00.008-05:00

This was the first year that Garrett played basketball, and I haven't been to any of the games because (a) I don't do sports, (b) I babysat Conner so Melody didn't have to chase him around during the games, and (c) I don't have to if I don't want to. This past Saturday, however, was the last game, and I had promised him from the beginning that I would go to that one.

I won't bore you with a bunch of photos of the game, but this is him in the center, doing basketball stuff. It looks a little like some kind of dance, doesn't it, with everyone waving their arms!

And this is Conner, trying to explain to me why he should spend the night after the game, which he did end up doing. (he's very convincing)

Sunday, Valentine's day, we celebrated three little boy February birthdays at the Chattanooga Zoo. Garrett would turn seven on the 16th.

They each had an Alabama Crimson Tide cake with their name on it.

They took us on a tour of the zoo...and no, I won't show you all the photos! Except these. Like the chimp above, one of several who entertained us or just sat and looked at us.

These birds were so beautiful! Look at those colors!

Aren't these the most fascinating monkeys ever? Their faces are like shrunken little men. If you look closely or enlarge, you can see a baby on her back. (Hmmm. Actually, no you can't. He's either not there, or very well hidden.) (No - wait - it is there, on the left shoulder, you can just make out his nose about even with the mother's nose!)In fact, I have a video of a tiny pair of twins that were also on display, but I didn't have sense enough to use the zoom, and didn't have my reading glasses on to actually see what was on the screen.. So never mind on that one.

Garrett says this is some kind of deer, but I'm not so sure and forgot to look. But they're definitely interesting looking.

This is just the boys posing on a statue, and Conner insisting on climbing it even though he could barely hold on!

This was my attempt at being artistic by taking the photo thru the wire fence. Just as I started to click he put his wings down.

In addition to the tour of the zoo, they also had a hands-on presentation in the cabin. I touched the snake so the boys would think I was cool, but only the boys actually did this, hold the snake! Actually, Conner had me hold him and stay way at the back!

He was, however, more than willing to tickle the tummy of the iguana. He looks pretty tickled himself, doesn't he!

And to finish off my week, here is Conner playing in the SWIMMING POOL! In February, a week after our third snow and record low temperatures! It's been in the low 50s this week, and today will apparently be near 60! Huh? And then in another week or two it will be back to winter. Is it any wonder that the plants are confused? And so are the people! (Yes, those are Woody pajamas, and it is the middle of the afternoon. And he wore them to Lowes and Wendy's.)

Speaking of plants, my hydrangeas have green buds, and the tulips and lilies are poking up. And, much to my surprise, the hellebores have fragile-looking but tough white flowers under the frost- burned foliage. I don't want to clean them up yet as the foliage is protecting the flowers from any further frost, but as soon as possible I'll have to get a photo up as they are gorgeous.

My next post will be next Tuesday about my visit with Dana and Joe. Woohoo!

Garrett with chair on head video

2010-02-06T19:02:00.001-05:00

When I got my first digital camera a year ago, I didn't realize for several weeks that I could also do video with it. This video is me practicing. Unfortunately, once I figured it out and wanted to put it on my new blog, I couldn't figure out how to do that. It was the same situation as with the links - no one told me that you have to do these things in edit Html!!! Anyway, I found this when I was going thru my picture folders tonight, and laughed so hard at how stupid it is! And yet also endearing in it's stupidity. Hope you have a good laugh with it.

FYI, I'm just sure that my voice isn't that annoying, although I have to admit that I do tend to talk in a singy-songy voice with the boys. And I'm sure you'll be excited to know that now that I know how to upload videos, I probably won't be posting so many photos. And, I have several more old videos that I can upload before I do new ones. I know, I know, you can hardly contain your excitement!

Wednesday's Wander to the Wayside: Belated Snow Photos

2010-02-03T16:59:00.014-05:00

I swore I wasn't going to post any more photos until I had thought of something to post about, but...I haven't thought of anything to post about, so here are photos of our HUGE snow and ice event last week. You would have thought we got two feet of snow instead of 2 inches, judging by the number of snowmen found even two days after the event. Children across the area got another day off from school, and memories to last at least until the next huge snow event.

The photo above is, obviously, the finches that I said make me happy (enlarge, please). There were up to a dozen of them on these three feeders at a time. The reason I put them under the eaves is because of the mockingbird that bullies everyone at the other feeders, and also the starlings were eating all the suet I put out but can't land on the little finch perches and socks.

This is Garrett, posing as if he's going to throw a snow ball at me. Notice the snowman on the chair behind him, left over from Christmas and yet to be put away. I also still have holiday lights on the bushes and around the door, so was the only one in the neighborhood, maybe even in the entire area, who was able to light up the snow that night.

I'm thinking that this snowman looked like a good idea the day of the snow...but two days later, not so much so. It looked like a giant penis (with eyes and a hat).

I thought this was such a clever idea, putting a patch of grass on his head for hair.

You can see by the leaves in the snow that they really had to scrape the ground to have enough snow for three snow people.

This was probably the most fashionable one I saw, and must have been quite the dashing snowman two days before!

It looks so funny to see all these snowmen but with no other snow around them!

This is Conner's snowman(men) at his house. A little on the short side, but so is he! And in his defense, it had done a good deal of melting by the time I took this photo.

I thought this was quite imaginative, a snow dog. Just kidding, it's actually a Georgia bulldog statue. (haha, that's my feeble attempt at humor)

Yes, another one.

We rarely get cardinals in our yard because of the woods behind us, but this one came by to peck at some fallen suet under the butterfly bush. Last week I thought I had a cardinal in another bush and got the binoculars out for a look-see, but it was only that stupid mockingbird doing an excellent imitation. I'm hoping this cardinal will go tell his friends that I have food.

I almost feel the need to apologize for doing another photo post, and of things that you can see right out your own door. When I thought about doing a Wednesday's Wander to the Wayside, it was intended to be more about me going out for a drive and exploring, with you in the passenger seat, but more often than not it's only from my driveway to my daughter's four minutes down the road!

Wednesday's Wander to the Wayside

2010-01-27T14:33:00.011-05:00

I had to go to town today to pick up some prescriptions, so decided to take a few pictures. Nothing special, just things along the way.

I thought these statues were a thing of the past, but we are in the south. And I think that sometimes they're just displayed as an antique. Or not.

Everything is so brown here right now, so this patch of green moss really jumped out at me.

This is one of those photos that you really do have to enlarge to see what I was taking a picture of! It's an old homestead type place with the old-timey string of goards and a martin house. Both usually get taken over by the sparrows. And yes, I could use my zoom on some of these photos, but then you don't see the surrounding area!

Another one that needs to be enlarged. I love this place with the old barn. The horses hang out on this east side of the barn in the morning, and switch to the other side in the afternoon.

I get a kick out of some of the street signs around here. This is just a few, though some I passed were better (like Murphy's Law Lane) and I just couldn't get the other cars off my ass long enough to take a photo! Maybe I'll start paying more attention and make this a regular feature.

Our woods are mostly hard wood trees, so they lose their leaves in the winter, leaving a huge landscape of brown. But I thought this was kind of pretty.

These next photos are for Dana at Life is Good. She and her husband, Joe, are moving from Florida back to their home in Indiana (kicking and screaming the whole way), and will be driving to within fifteen minutes of our house. So, after some discussion as to whether either of us is an internet predator, they have decided to stop for a face-to-face meeting! They found a hotel at the interstate that takes pets (they have a recently rescued maltese, Beau), so I ran by there to check it out and see if it was a 'safe' area. I took lots of photos so they could see that it's nice looking, has plenty of dog walking area, is right across the parking lot from McDonald's and a Ruby Tuesday, etc.

I'm not going to say the name, because I don't want any googlers coming here wanting reservations, so I'll just say that last year it was a Rd Rf Inn, and now is a Qlty Inn.

This is the view behind the trees of the back edge of the hotel lot.

This is one of the driveways leading up to the hotel there on the left. Go right and there's the McDonalds.

This is the view from the driveway leading to McDonalds. Very well lighted, by the way. And plenty of room to walk Beau as the lot between them is grass and cleared.

Pretty much the same view but a different angle. That's Ruby Tuesday (my gosh they're expensive!) straight ahead on the left side. The interstate is right behind that.

This is the check-in area. Again, well lighted and very clean 'looking'. I only went in the lobby and didn't look at a room, but they were cleaning and it smelled and looked very clean - and not like one of those truck stop ratty looking places where you're afraid to go walk the dog after dark. It's $10 extra for a pet.

I'm really excited about this meeting, and look forward to it. We'll just play it by ear as to how much visiting we do (as they will obviously be exhausted after their long drive from Florida), or whether they feel up to coming to my house. I'm sure we'll be posting photos, so stay tuned at the end of February! Anyone else coming down I-75 between Atlanta and Chattanooga, give me a shout out!

I can't leave without sharing one of my cloud photos! It looked like a giant space ship!

Happy 101

2010-01-23T23:12:00.001-05:00

Glenn at Differences with the Same Likenesses has passed along this Happy 101 Sweet Friends award to me! It says "Add kind words; Mix in sweet thoughts; Enjoy good times". The rules are that I have to tell you about ten things that make me happy, and pass it along to an unspecified number of fellow bloggers (though Glenn did nine). I've been going over these two things in my head, and it's not as easy as it sounds, but here goes:

1) I think it could go without saying that my grandsons make me happy, but I'll say it anyway... Garrett and Conner make me happy beyond anything I could have ever dreamed.

2) My daughter, Melody, has been making me happy since the day she was born.

3) My dogs make me happy; in fact, dogs in general make me happy. And cats. And cows and goats.

4) Margueritas, and rum and coke, make me happy.

5) 'Up' and 'Beverly Hills Chihuahua' make me happy.

6) Yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Peach cobbler. Real key lime pie. Kit Kat bars. Vanilla ice cream with fudge ripple. (Ok, that's five things, but it can be lumped under desserts.)

7) Dancercising to 'Whatcha Think About That ' by the Pussycat Dolls, and 'Crazy ' by Gnarls Barkley, makes me happy.

8) Watching Conner sleep makes me happy.

9) The dozens of finches at the feeders hanging on my living room window make me happy.

10) Blogging makes me happy for so many reasons.

Ok. This is the really hard part. Not finding other bloggers to give it to, but going back and forth to copy their link! So, in no particular order, I pass this award on to:

Julie at Midlife Job Hunter

Lorna at Bathtime Blogger

Susan at City Gal Moves to Oz Land

Dana at Life is Good

Michele Renee at Must Be A Full Moon

Donna at Mystical Journeys

Wendy at Wisdom of the Moon

Jeanie at Living Consciously

Ethel Mae Potter at The Adventures of Fred and Ethel (even though she already has one)

Dan at d2

Please accept these awards as thanks for the reading enjoyment you have each given me, and for continuing to visit me and contribute your own comments to my posts. It's that back and forth that makes this adventure so much fun.

First post of 2010

2010-01-16T21:41:00.020-05:00

This is my first post of 2010, and part of that is because my blog is messing with me! All of a sudden one day my words started turning into hindu looking words, and it doesn't matter if I'm in compose or edit html, one way or another it's messing with me. If anyone has an idea why it's doing that, please let me know. So far so good on this my hundreth try, but we'll see if I make it all the way to the end before it turns into hindu again. (UPDATE: Problem solved...somehow I had enabled the English to Hindu setting under Global Settings. I don't even remember being on settings since I set up almost a year ago, so I must have been in a black-out!)

One of the things I've been doing the last two weeks is clean out my pantry/storage/laundry room (though room is a misnomer, because it's actually a closet). If you read my last post you know that it was one of my 'wants' for 2010 because it had gotten out of control. Some of you will think that my 'before' looks better than your's does on a good day, but the problem is that it's so small that even a can out of place leads to frustration, especially when paints and pesticides and crackers and cereal are in the same small room, along with a washer and dryer! Basically, the room is three doors wide. Anyway, here's the before and after:

Ok, so now that I have the photos here I can see that the 'before' doesn't look all that bad on first glance, but I took it long before the area was at it's worst. The dryer on the left and the washer on the right were piled high with 'stuff', like a basket of dog grooming supplies, plastic containers of misplaced household items, etc. They all had a 'place', but getting them to their place was hindered by...all the other stuff that wasn't in it's place.

Remember my post about demented mawmaw, when I had a temper tantrum in response to Garrett's temper tantrum, and smashed his just purchased gun with a hammer? Well, I threw most of the pieces into a recycle bag, but put these smaller ones into a zip lock bag and stored it in the laundry room...as a reminder of my flash temper and the need to get it under control. I have thought of that moment so many times, usually when we're in the midst of another drama, and it's not one of my prouder moments. Though I still think he deserved it! And it did serve it's purpose in some ways, because to this day I can say "do I need to mention the hammer incident?", and he knows exactly what I'm talking about!

You may have heard that we had a snow event a couple of weeks ago, and frigid temps in the 20s. The snow was a whisper, but the temps kept us all in the house for a couple of weeks, including the dogs. You've heard about a dog's life...here's a perfect example of it:

And here's our snow event (please don't laugh too hard):
(Eva Jean thinks I'm taking another picture of her!)

Conner rolled up a snowball about the size of a marble, but it was big enough to pretend to throw at me!

You can't tell from this photo, but the pond at the phone company is frozen.

And even with the frigid temps, mother nature graced us with a perfect sunset:

I hope your first few weeks of the new year are going well.

Goodbye to 2009

2009-12-31T09:50:00.044-05:00

I've had the house to myself this morning - no husband and no grandsons - so I've been reflecting on this past year. The television takes care of the national news reflection for me - Octomom, Balloon Boy, First Black President Takes Oath, National Health Care Battle, Michael Jackson Dies, Teddy Kennedy Dies, Plane Lands on Hudson, etc. But, for my own reflections, I have to turn to my calendar, on which I try to post most of the important stuff, and the photographs that are a sure fire reminder. Without them, I'm not sure I'd remember anything but the normal day to day, and there's a lot of that! I call it "same old, same old", because every day is pretty much the same.

January : *It began with a sigh of relief because our bankruptcy had been discharged on Dec. 31. *David's mother died of old age and alzheimers, and we went to Colorado for her funeral and a family reunion of sorts. This is where we moved from in 1988 (and wonder to this day why), so it's always bittersweet when we visit...and then have to leave again and return to Georgia. *Started my Facebook account. *David and our son-in-law entered a new venture together, a franchise where David works in conjunction with moving and insurance companies on damage claims, repairing furniture and whatever else he can. After 35 years of being in construction, David's body has gone into old age mode, so this was something that was still in his line of work (anything to do with wood), but not so hard on his knees and back.

February: *Bought my first digital camera, finally. *Started babysitting at a church nursery for a Mom's Group twice a month, which bored me to tears but was $50 each, and I got some great photos on the way to and from for my 'Wednesday's Wander to the Wayside'! *Garrett turned six. *Did an airedale transport. *Published my first blog post on the 25th, with absolutely no clue as to what I was doing or what lay ahead!

March: crickets chirping

April: *Had a pair of bluebirds nesting right out the front door, and found one beautiful little egg on the 26th. *Conner had his tonsils out, a routine procedure, but the waiting made me so nervous!

May: *Found a tiny naked baby bird out front in the bluebird house! *Snake ate our baby bluebird . *Adopted eight month old Oliver, a long haired chihuahua, on the 23rd from a rescue group ($250 that I had saved from house cleaning and babysitting, + $150 for the first vet visit. Ouch!)

June: *Riverbend Festival in Chattanooga. *First Father's Day without my Dad. *Had a wake-up call in regard to my flash temper in a confrontation with Garrett.

July: *Daughter turned 35.

August: crickets chirping. Oh wait, we went to the Chattanooga Nature Park and did our first canoe trip with the boys!

September: Conner turned four.

October: Alice and Doug (sister-in-law and her husband) visit from Colorado for a week - easily the highlight of my year, even though we mostly just hung out around the house - oh, and did go to the Grand Ole Opry Museum in Nashville.November: Last bankruptcy attorney payment and last truck payment. Woohoo! Unfortunately not extra money in the pocket, but money to put toward taxes.

December: Talked to brother Lawrence (Yes, that's right. I actually called him and had a nice conversation.)

Like I said, a lot of 'same old, same old'! And I'm very grateful for that, because it means that we didn't have any traumas or dramas in 2009 (except for Nita dying), and having no medical issues was especially nice since we don't have insurance. I'm very fortunate to be able to spend a lot of time with the grandsons and my daughter, so that's something I'm really really grateful for. I guess the worst part of the whole year, like with most people, was that we're in financial turmoil. Some months barely surviving, but we're still standing.

I don't usually make new year resolutions, so let me just say that there are a few things that I want to do this next year, that I want to give more attention to:

(1) I want to clean out my tiny laundry room that has somehow become a pantry/storage/laundry room that I can barely get into. I have to stand on a stool or a cooler to be tall enough to see the settings on the dryer behind the clutter piled on top. There are pesticides and paints stored right next to crackers and cereal. Need I say more? The problem is that we also have a very small kitchen, so to pull everything out of the laundry room means also having to clear all the clutter out of the kitchen into the small living room, which means...well, you get the idea. If I would just take that first step toward getting it done.

(2) I want to start walking my dogs more. I started out with good intentions with Oliver, walking him and Charity together, then walking Eva Jean and Oliver. Then we had some dogs that were off leash that made walking stressful, so I got out of the habit. I need to start walking them again because it's so good for them, and because I need the exercise to help get rid of that roll that has developed around my waist.

(3) I want to work on having a stable pack. Eva Jean, Charity, and Oliver individually are the best dogs in the world, but together are totally dysfunctional (except for Oliver and Charity together). The first unstable pack we have had in 35+ years of being pet owners, so it's something we were totally unprepared for when it started four years ago, and have not taken the initiative to fix, have not stepped up to the plate to be strong pack leaders.

(4) I've been so grateful for having found my inner voice on my blog, (the voice that seems to disappear when in a social setting), and for having found so many other blogs and bloggers. I can spend hours reading what everyone has to say! And that's the problem. So, I want to spend less time at the computer and more time living my life, no matter how ho hum it might be! Just like with Garrett and his computer video games and tv cartoons, I need to set limits for myself on how long I can sit here at the computer.

(5) I'm sixty-one years old. That hour glass/clock is ticking! Yes, I may have another twenty years yet to live and try to get it right, or I may drop from a stroke tomorrow. I feel that I should want to live more consciously. I don't mean that in a spiritual way, but in a 'get the hell off your ass and get out there' way. Seriously. I am so much of a homebody and nester that I rarely leave the house except to the store or Melody's, or go somewhere with the boys, or to clean someone's house or pet sit. I don't have a passion to follow up on. But I need to figure out how to get myself out of the house. Maybe volunteering at the animal shelter. Maybe getting a job. Who knows what might be out there for me. Something. Something to enrich my life, something to enrich my soul, something to contribute to the community I live in, something to make my husband, daughter and grandsons proud of me, to make myself proud of me? (Why did tears jump to my eyes when I wrote that sentence?) Problem is, I'm perfectly happy being just a homebody and a nester, a wife, mother, and mawmaw. This isn't the first time I've talked about this issue, and I'm sure it won't be the last!

No matter what happens, I'm going to continue to wander around my wayside, and I hope you will continue to join me when you can.

Wishing you and yours a safe New Year's Eve, and absolutely a healthy and happy 2010 that is enriched by the love of family and the comfort of friends.

Christmas 2009

2009-12-27T17:03:00.017-05:00

So, here it is two days after Christmas! We had a pretty mellow holiday this year, so there wasn't a big letdown once it was over. Melody and her husband, Brent, and the two boys came over Christmas Eve for most of the opening of our gifts for the boys, then they would come back the next day for a few Santa's gifts (yes, he comes to our house, too!). Christmas morning we spend at the home of Brent's parents for a brunch. Anyway, here are my requisite photos of the week. Nothing more special or different than yours, just ours!

I couldn't decide which photo to use - the dark or light one - so decided to use both.

That's Annabelle's ashes there in that white box (she died a year ago), with her photo in front of it. Toby's under there, too, (he died two years ago). Yes, I realize that that's a wierd thing to do!

This is Eva Jean taking a nap with Annabelle. She likes to scratch her face on the branches. We don't have presents under the tree because of year old Oliver the chihuahua.

We bought this simple manger thirty-six years ago when we were poor, and have just never 'upgraded'. When Garrett was two, he lined up his cars in front of it, on the brown part. I keep telling Conner that I don't think they had pine trees like this in Bethlehem, but he thinks they should be there anyway!

This is our Christmas Village, of all different sizes because we mixed and matched! The boys don't care, and one of the first things we do each Christmas is get this out and set it up, the boys on a stool and shuffling everything around til it looks just right. I think we have a tradition started with this! Mawmaw gets to decide where the buildings go, but everything else can be arranged and rearranged as each boy sees fit, as many times as they want.

I'm real proud of these four stamped wooden ornaments. I painted them about twenty years ago, and the exciting thing is that I'm not in the least bit artistic. Most importantly, I can give each boy a set of two for their own trees when they're adults.

Garrett and Pawpaw relaxing. That's a lap drawing set from the Dollar Store that Garrett got for Christmas because drawing is his passion right now.

I have no idea why Conner has underwear on his head. This was before Christmas, but I don't remember what led up to it.

Oliver helping the boys with their new Hot Wheels race track.

Mawmaw and Conner with their antlers on.

Garrett bought me this cute little kitten in a cup at the school Santa Shop, and was so proud of himself! The cat looks like one of ours that died in 2008.

All three dogs had a stocking , but only Oliver was willing to pull one of the toys out. If you look toward his feet, you'll see that it's a silly looking bird.

Well, there are a lot more, but I won't make you look at them all since you've got your own to sort through!

I have a bit of a secret ... I don't remember any of my Christmas' before I had my daughter. I've been told about and have seen in a photo or two that I spent Christmas Eve at the country club with my adoptive mother, grandparents, aunt and cousins Nancy and Marylin when I was little. But I.do.not.remember. Any of them. Any Christmas' or trees with my adoptive mother. Any Christmas's with my adoptive dad and step-mother. I have no memories. Even when I look at the few photos I have of a few of them (and I mean a few - maybe two or three photos). So the holidays spent raising our daughter, and now ones spent with my grandsons, are so special to me. I go over the photos again and again each year, imprinting them on my memory so that I never ever forget another one.

I hope you had a good Christmas, and that all of us see a good new year.

(p.s. Astute viewers will notice that the background where the television is has changed ... we originally had an old table with leafs that had speakers on them, and then we had the chance to receive some free glass shelf units that give me much more horizontal space in our small living room.)

(p.p.s. I've had the plural of Christmas spelled three ways now! What in the world is the correct way?)

Wednesday's Wander to the Wayside: Christmas Parade

2009-12-16T19:33:00.012-05:00

I'm a real scrooge when it comes to Christmas parades. It's been my experience at the one's I've been to over the years that there's way too much advertising - for churches, plumbing, landscaping, cars, banks, politics, whatever - and very little Christmas caroling and kids. I'm sorry, but a politician with a wreath hanging on his car and the wife and kid waving is not Christmas to me. Nor is a backhoe just because it has lights on the cab. I know that the city needs the registration fee that these participants supply for - well, for what, exactly? For the cops that wouldn't be needed if there wasn't a parade? Why can't the businesses that pay the registration fee just decorate their vehicle and keep the advertising out of it or at least minimal...for the simple joy of entertaining the kids?

Garrett and I went to Ringgold's parade a couple of weeks ago, and once again I was disappointed. Sure, there were floats with kids waving, and maybe a speaker blaring carols from it for two seconds as they passed. But I get really irritated when there are fifteen minutes of politicians and plumbers between every one float with kids. The float with Santa took forever to get to us, maybe thirty minutes into a one hour parade- oh wait, it wasn't a float at all, it was Santa on a motorcycle - and he went by so fast that I wasn't even able to get my camera on him for a quick shot! WTF? Even Garrett almost missed seeing him!

I guess the important thing is that the kids enjoyed it for the most part (though there was some whining along the lines of 'when will it be oooveeer?'). I think most of them just wanted the candy that was occasionally thrown at them. We had a problem with some bigger kids standing next to us - every time the candy was thrown out, one of the three boys would jump in front of us and grab up Garrett's share, and the parents did NOTHING. After this happened maybe a dozen times, and Garrett had maybe four pieces of candy, I called them out on it. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? YOU'RE REALLY GOING TO KEEP JUMPING IN FRONT OF A SIX YEAR OLD SO THAT YOU CAN HAVE MORE THAN YOUR FAIR SHARE OF CANDY?" (with a side glance at the parents, who had been visiting with someone behind them and not paying attention to their children). One of them apologized and handed over some of the candy they had just picked up from in front of me, and they didn't jump in front of him again...and the parents turned forward and started paying attention.

Anyway, here are the pictures from our evening together! We got there early and walked up the street to some of the stores (which takes about three minutes) and to the old train depot that is now a community building and tourist attraction. Garrett and I are like two peas in a pod, so just being together was a huge plus. Then we went to the drive-thru at Taco Bell on the way home - woohoo! When I have the kids for the evening, I really go all out!

As a side note to the parade, here's what I had to eat today: chocolate fudge from David's stepmother that came in the mail the other day, more fudge, a bowl of hot fudge pudding and peach cobbler (side by side) that Melody made for Brent's office luncheon, more fudge, a cookie from a bag that was actually going to be a gift for anyone who might have given me one and for whom I did not get one (because Melody wanted to know if I had any cookies she could take to Conner's play group tomorrow, and I needed to taste them to see if three year olds might like them, which they wouldn't have, so now I have to eat them), and more fudge. Ah, one of the joys of Christmas!

Mattie Stepanek

2009-12-12T16:52:00.015-05:00

For a brief second on tv the other day, I caught a glimpse of Mattie Stepanek. I don't know if it was a preview of an upcoming program or what, but for the briefest of seconds he was there. And my eyes filled with tears before I was even able to absorb what I had seen. Mattie Stepanek, who died in 2004 at the age of fourteen after the proverbial 'brave battle' against a devastating disease. And he still has the power to make a sixty-one year old woman cry.

Who could forget this incredibly brave and talented boy and his short journey on this earth? He contributed more in his life than most people do in a normal span of years, and is still, five years later, remembered as a poet, a peace maker, and a philosopher. He wrote six bestselling books of poetry (Heartsongs), and one bestselling collection of peace essays. Mattie also had a rare form of muscular dystrophy that claimed the lives of his three siblings, and is shared by his mother, Jeni.

Ok, it could be said that he became a darling for the media, and his being cute as the dickens didn't hurt. But he had an awareness of the world that was well beyond his years and deserved to be spotlighted. His awareness of his own almost certain early death would knock most people flat, and yet he spent his years with a purpose, promoting peace and good will, and sharing his wit and wisdom on all human conditions with people of all ages. Oprah asked him in an interview when he was twelve: What do you know for sure, Mattie? And Mattie answered:

That our attitude is a choice. I believe we can decide to be miserable, to roll ourselves in the dirt and say, 'Hit me again.' But when we do that, we're missing out on so much! I know for sure that while it's great to have role models, we should never try to be anyone but ourselves. I know for sure that when we use words, not bombs, we all get peace. I know for sure that there's something bigger than the here and now—some people call it God, some call it Buddha, some call it Yahweh. I know for sure that we don't need to be afraid of death, because we'll be greeted by something better on the other side. And I know for sure that life is a gift to be treasured—and that we must always live it to the fullest.

How was a twelve year old boy able to say all this, how did he articulate it in exactly those words in a conversation before a national audience? Yes, he'd shown an innate talent from a very early age, recording poetry before he could even 'write'. But I think that you have to look to his mother. Having been dealt one of the cruelest hands in life, unknowingly passing the gene for this disease on to four children and not being diagnosed with the condition herself until adulthood, she had to have found a well of courage and peace within herself and passed it on to Mattie in her words and actions. Can you even begin to imagine? And yet she is has a doctorate degree in early childhood education, and is a noted and award winning motivational speaker on topics such as bereavement, spirituality, and living with a disability. Above all of this, she is a mother who has lost four children ... and who not only encouraged and enabled her son Mattie to have hope, but continues even today to live life to the fullest, and to honor the memory of her son by keeping his story and his message alive.

Let me say here that I have not read any of Mattie's books, though I've seen a poem here and there, and of course saw him on 'Oprah' and 'Good Morning, America', and probably read an article in People and many articles after his death. I'm also not in the least bit religious or spiritual. But Mattie touched my heart, and, as shown by my gut reaction when I saw his picture the other day, he is still in there.

So, during this season of peace and love, this season of memories of family and friends, I'd like to give a shout out to Mattie. Your messages touched so many people, Mattie, and continue to touch and inspire them today. I can only imagine what treasures you would have contributed had you lived.

Wednesday's Wander to the Wayside: Clearing the camera!

2009-12-09T22:32:00.006-05:00

Technically it's still Wednesday, though not for much longer (only thirty more minutes), so I'd better get these photos up. I'm clearing the last of the photos off the camera in preparation for all the Christmas photos! Just a smatter of wandering here and there...

Remember all those pretty fall leaves? Happily, those aren't in my yard!

If you enlarge this, you'll see a big house on the hill. Not old, just a big brick house with lots of land!

Conner is still fascinated with getting in the cage with Oliver. Oliver doesn't think it's near as funny as Conner does.

This is someone's driveway, and I keep saying I'm going to go up it someday to see the house that goes with it. Don't know what it's like when it ices!

I don't know how old this little grocery is, or it's history, but it's on a beautiful, winding, tree lined road on the way to the vet's office, with a little creek on the other side of the street.

Four year old Conner's little school Thanksgiving propram, showing me his leaf of what he's thankful for. The last word is 'toys', I'm thankful for my 'toys'! If you were to enlarge this, you would also see that he's thankful for grandmother and granddad, but mawmaw and pawpaw aren't on there, apparently because they ran out of room.

My contribution to the Thanksgiving dinner: peach cobbler, deviled eggs, fruit salad, pumpkin pies (not from scratch).

Our early and first snow of the season. It was so gorgeous for about an hour, and then was melted by 10am!

This is Oliver's first snow (at least with us), and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it. Notice he's on the grass that has no snow on it!

That's all for this Wednesday. Thanks for stopping by, and thanks to those of you who followed me on the telling of my adoption journey, especially for your nice comments.

My Adoption Story: Part 8 Sounds Like Life to Me!

2009-11-28T18:17:00.024-05:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWpGBTi53KM (Daryl Worley, Sounds Like Life to Me)

What I saw as so cut and dry twenty-nine years ago, find my birth family and my life would be complete, has turned out to be a journey with many twists and turns, triumphs and failures, lessons learned.

I haven't intended any of this story to be a diary, a tell-all, a poor pitiful me story ... but rather a recording of one aspect of my life - being adopted - with all that that entails, and those lives that have intersected with that story along the way. The details are similar to many other life stories whether the word 'adopted' is used or not. That's why this next part of the story has been so hard to write - there's too much of it, and trying to summarize it was much harder than I thought it would be. I've re-written it a dozen times, with a result that it 's still way too long. But how can I tell the complete adoption story without telling how and why things turned out with the family I worked so hard to find? So, if you're in a hurry and want to skip thru the middle section to the end, you have my permission!

Aunt Helen died in 1995, and Uncle Sonny not long after. I never saw either of them again after the 1980 reunion, though Aunt Helen and I did talk on the phone and exchange long letters a couple of times a year, and I was so grateful for her in my life and for the stories she was able to tell me. I have never had any contact with her children (my cousins). She called me at Christmas 1994 and told me that she had congestive heart failure, and we had a long talk, which would have been our once or twice a year talk. I didn't really know anything about congestive heart failure at that time, so it never occured to me that that would be the last time I talked to her. Next thing I knew, I got a call from Kathy that Aunt Helen had died, but her children had taken offense at my not coming to see her when she was in the hospital and dying, even though no one called to tell me that she was dying. They told her to tell me that I was not welcome at the funeral, and I also was not to be included in the obituary. That part really hurt, because in that final summary of her life, I was not included. The thing is, they didn't even know me, had never met me! Well, I was living in Georgia at the time and could not have afforded the trip anyway.

Not counting the time she lived with or near us in Colorado for that four months, I've only seen Kathy one other time since 1980, when Melody and Garrett and I met her in Florida for a quick visit while she was there in 2003. Two of her kids came to live with us the summer of 1989, and as nice as it was to have them be in my life for a while, I ended up having to send them home early as Amanda (whose birth I had attended back in 1979) was acting out in an inappropriate manner, and it turned out that she had been molested by one of Kathy's boyfriends. Kathy and I talked on the phone every once in a while, and exchanged emails, but for some reason I just haven't been in touch with her the last several years, even though she has emailed a time or two. It's nothing she did or didn't do...I have no explanation. I just don't feel an attachment to her. Isn't that odd? She has three children and several grandchildren, and none of them are part of my life. One of her sons is in prison for life, for alledgedly molesting a male cousin who was a minor, when he himself wasn't much older than a minor. Life in prison in Florida. With no chance of parole. And in his 20s. She herself lives in New Mexico, and I'm here in Georgia, so the distance factor is a huge one. Let's see: one extended visit, two others in the thirty years since.

Lawrence and I actually became quite close for a while, talked several times a year, and I was able to drop by to see him a couple of times when I used to drive from Georgia to Texas to see my adoptive dad. He had started out pretty screwed up, and was always screwing up. He lost the best thing to ever happen to him - a wife and three kids - by skipping out and never looking back. He lived to regret it, though he now has another wife and a step-family that he loves and who clearly loves him. His children haven't been part of his life in well over twenty years, the youngest two having virtually no memory of him. I haven't talked to him in a year, my fault and not his. I just forget. Really. I know he's there in Texas, all I have to do is pick up the phone. And I just forget. He tells me that he was diagnosed as manic depressive, which I guess means that all those times when he screwed up his life were during a manic stage. Well, who knows. I'm trying to figure in my head...in the 30 years since I first met him in 1979, 1989, 1985, 1987, 1995, 2000, 2002, and 2004. Eight times in 30 years. None of those visits was more than a couple of hours, but I have seen him more than the others. So why can't I remember to call him?

I've seen Karen twice since the 1980 reunion, in 2000 and 2004. She's nice, and we get along fine when we see each other, and talk easily. But there just is not a connection. Melody and I stopped by to see her when we were through Texas four years ago, met her two now adult kids and a grandchild, and I haven't talked to her since. No reason. We just don't make the effort. Visiting her was like just visiting someone I met casually along the way, but have no vested interest in. Tally: three times in 30 years.

Stephen. Oh, Stephen. The most damaged of them all. We met only one time after that few minutes in 1980. A few years later, in June 1984, he was in Colorado for some reason and stopped by to see us. Melody and I were home alone, and he was only there for maybe thirty minutes, but he could not leave soon enough for us. Melody told me afterwards that he gave her the creeps. He married and had one son, then ended up in prison for alledgedly molesting his step-daughter. We corresponded for awhile, but he turned to God and kept writing letters about Jesus and enclosing literature, and wanting me to send him money. I stopped corresponding with him. He eventually got out of prison, only to end up there again for some reason or other. I felt really bad about deserting him, about stopping even written contact, because I had told him early on that I would always be there for him - and thought at the time that I meant it! He even asked me if I could 'sponsor' him when he got out, but I was afraid that he would show up at my door here in Georgia, and I did not want that to happen. Tally: two times in 30 years, for a total of maybe forty-five minutes.

There are a lot of cousins for Melody - Kathy's Jacen, Branden, Amanda; Lawrence's Christina, Jennifer, Robbie; Stephen's Ryan; Karen's Jennifer and James. Don’t know if they’ll ever be in contact with each other, but I would like for them to at least be aware of each other’s existence. I think that at a certain stage in everyone’s life, they at least have a curiosity about aspects of their ancestry and heritage other than what happens in their own immediate personal life - and it’s to these extended family members, past and present, that we can reach out. I have been fortunate to have actually found my niece Christina, Lawrence's daughter, and we follow each other on Facebook! We're not thisclose, but she has given me a chance to show her that some of her dad's family are not so bad. And I've been able to share all the information I've found with her so she, also, has been able to fill some of the void. She, Jennifer, and Robert James have been fortunate in that they had a mother and her family who gave them a life to be proud of.

Which brings me to my own genealogy research since first finding my maternal family. I started doing some research online in 2000 when we got our first computer, and I found several relatives, who led me to other relatives, each of whom were able to add another piece to my puzzle. One, Mary, was a cousin to my grandmother, Rhoda Irene, and she had a wealth of information to share with me, as well as photos (including a priceless photo of my grandmother as a child sitting with Mary’s father for a photo!). The daughter of a cousin of my mother’s, Jennifer, lives close to me here in Georgia, and we’ve met once (her son also suffers from mental illness). My favorite contact has been with Gladys of Galveston, my mother's cousin. She had information about my mother as a girl, and it was horrible to hear. Lillian was raped by several men at a fire station next to her home as a grade school girl, and her father was physically and emotionally abusive to his wife and children. Is it any wonder she turned out the way she did? Gladys and I have seen each other several times and talk on the phone. She will be the last contact I have with my mother’s generation, but that’s secondary to the genuine affection I feel for her!

I talked about lessons learned. One thing I've learned is that every family has some level of dysfunction and skeletons in it's closet! Child abuse, drug addiction, rape, alcoholism, mental illness. Brought into our lives by people who we had no choice in, and oftentimes by people of our own chosing. What's that old saying about being able to pick your friends but not your family?

And not all family members are or have to be connected at the hip or even be good friends. Some family members fall by the wayside due to time and distance, some from a poor relationship to begin with or a falling out, some from lack of nurturing. It just happens. In every family.

Another thing I've learned is that while many people like the idea of finding or being found, they are often only in it for the short haul. I found many relatives of one kind or another online, and we were all woohoo! at finding each other. But after awhile, after facts were exchanged and a few stories shared, they just dropped to the wayside as each got back to living their own lives. That's another thing: after a while, all you have are names and dates on a piece of paper, many times with no story behind the name to humanize them for you. But isn't that the way with any family? Dad had a brother who has a son that had five kids who were lost track of in a divorce when they went to live with the mother's family? They're still your cousins, but just names on a piece of paper somewhere.

You always hear that people want to find their adopted family to find out about health issues. Oddly, that never really entered my mind except for briefly when Melody was born. I did find out that, though there weren't any serious issues like heart disease brought to light, alcoholism and manic depression has shown up in generation after generation. Not that unusual, but still, it's good to know.

One of the biggest and probably most important things I have learned has been something that probably just comes with age. And that lesson is this: SHIT HAPPENS. TO EVERYONE. And, in the big scheme of things, my shit is way down low on the scales of how shit is weighed and measured. Ok, so that's not very lyrical, but I think it holds true. Children of all ages lose parents who have been dearly loved. Parents lose children much before their time. People divorce. Teenagers leave home to make it on their own, and somehow never manage to make it back home again. Parents move to Florida and never see their grandkids. Which of these losses do you think weighs more: me never knowing my parents and not having a relationship with my siblings, or my husband losing a dearly loved sister to breast cancer, a brother to suicide, and a mother to alzheimers? That's where putting things in the proper perspective comes in.

But. The need to know, to fill that void, to find the missing piece, to hear the story of from whence you came, to maybe see a photo or two. That is what an adoptee's story is all about. On my own journey, I unearthed something that I think would ring true for any adoptee: It doesn't matter so much what you find out, it's that you did find out. What you know isn't near as frustrating as what you don't know. I found out that my birth mother was a horrible mother, but at least I know that her name was Lillian, and that she remembered me and had not taken my birth and subsequent relinguishment lightly. I also found out that I'm Irish, and I have my mother's and great-grandmother's thin lips, and my great-grandfather's big ears! I found out that I have child molesters, wife abusers, robbers, murderers, alcoholism, and mental illness in my family, which of course I'd rather not have known about, but there was also a second cousin who was a nurse and a great aunt who was secretary for a congressman!

There was a time in my life when I did feel like poor pitiful me, and in my mind it was all because I was adopted. If my mother hadn't given me away, this and that would never have happened. Really? Life happens, whether you are adopted or not. Do I wish that I was closer to my siblings? Absolutely! Do I feel like I squandered the chance I was given to have the family, the siblings I always dreamed of? Well, yes and no. I tried early on, but they weren't ready. By the time they tried, I had moved on. I feel like the biggest obstacle was the miles between us. I'll always regret how it turned out. But, somehow, just knowing that they are out there matters.

One last thing, a postscript if you will. I've talked like I never had family until David and I had Melody, or until I found my biological family. And that's just not true. I know I always refer to my adoptive dad as, well, as my adoptive dad. I actually don't know why I do that, because he was a dad to me in every sense of the word, even if we were often out of sync. And I can't forget to mention my adoptive mother's sister, my Aunt Jean, who was a stable influence in my life as a young girl, and her daughter, Nancy, who was about eight years old when I was adopted and who remembers it. We actually moved here to Georgia because of her, and she is probably my dearest friend of the heart as well as my cousin, even though nowadays we only see each other a couple of times a year (Christmas and our birthdays in May). And her kids - Patty, Angie, and Kent - who I've known since they were babies. I'm closest to Angie since I've been around her the most and I think we'd be friends even if we weren't related. And her kids Christina, Evan, and Anthony. They are much more my family than the family I've just spent nine posts telling you about. And I'm so grateful for having had them in my life, and for their including me when they talk about family.

My Adoption Story: Part 7 Family Reunion

2009-11-25T15:52:00.005-05:00

( Kathy, Lawrence, Linda,Karen, Melody - Galveston, Texas 1980)

One and a half years after finding my family, August 1980, six year old Melody and I headed for Galveston to meet my Aunt Helen, Uncle Sonny, Karen, Stephen and cousins for the first time. Lawrence and Kathy and her two kids would also be there. Was I ready for this?

It took several weeks and many visits to the Mental Health Services to prepare myself for this trip. I was overwhelmed with joy at the idea of being able to look at, touch and talk to these strangers who were my family, but the emotional strain was tremendous. What if I didn’t like them? What if they didn’t like me? Also, I had learned from Kathy that they were a pretty rough bunch of people, poor and living in poor conditions, and I wondered if I would spend most of my time repelled by their living conditions and in fear for our safety. I didn't know what to expect. And we would be hundreds of miles from home! My therapist and I tried to work through all my fears and anticipations, but if I could have packed her in my suitcase to take along, I would have.

We met Karen first, stayed at her apartment, and my hopes of our hitting it off were more than fulfilled as we had an instant rapport and feeling of kinship. She was a good deal younger than me, and I really played it up with the sisterly advice and wisdom, and loved every minute of it. And what was nice was that she seemed to enjoy having a big sister to talk to and share things with! She had a lot of pent up and confused feelings about our mother, our family situation, and, by talking about them, we realized that we were no longer alone.

We drove together to Aunt Helen’s house, and came very close to turning back. We even stopped before we got there to muster up our courage and get our feelings under control.

She hadn’t seen Aunt Helen, Kathy and Lawrence since a brief visit more than a year before, and hadn’t seen Stephen since that morning long ago when she had gone to school. Is it any wonder that we were both almost sick with anticipation?

When we finally got the courage to go on to Aunt Helen’s, it was almost more than I could bear. I felt very awkward and 'out of the loop', totally spaced out, and spent most of the time just listening and looking. It was especially hard to listen to my siblings reminisce about when they were kids, reminiscing about our mother, even looking at photos of when they were young kids together ... feeling like an outsider because I had not been there. Many of the stories they told, especially about our mother, were not pleasant. Stephen, who I'd only just met, stuck around this get-together for a few minutes before he disappeared - I guess it was too much for him, as well, as he had been too young to share their memories. Aunt Helen was wonderful, very maternal (she had something like thirteen kids-only a couple of whom were there), and had many stories to tell about my mother, grandparents, and great-aunts. She was also able to tell me more about the time period of my conception, and a little about who she said my father was (and no, I never found him).

As I look back on my short time there (only one day and two nights), three events seem to stick with me:

One, my meeting with Uncle Sonny, my mother’s blind brother. (Aunt Helen said their dad, my grandfather, had thrown him against a wall when he was a toddler, causing the blindness). I had shown very little emotion during the reunion with the others - remaining aloof and unemotional, uttering the expected greetings and responses - until he walked in from work. As Aunt Helen introduced us, he reached out to me without hesitation and wrapped his arms around me and cried. I choked up and almost fell when he released me, and Lawrence was next to me and grabbed me before I fell on the floor from the impact of my emotions at that moment. I think in that few short minutes the full import of the situation really hit me.

Second was the time we were sitting around the kitchen table of an old lady who had been like a grandmother or second mother to my mother. She had been walking down memory lane with the other kids and not finding much to talk to me about, and I was getting a little more than ill from watching the cockroaches crawling in and out of the food containers laying on the table.

Then, during a pause in the conversation, she turned to me and said that my mother had sat at that very spot many a time - especially when May 15 rolled around - drinking and crying about the child she had given away. What was so emotional about this to me was that every May 15 I would be thinking about the woman who had given me away, wondering what kind of mother she would have been. I think I felt closest to my mother at that minute than at any other time since I had “found” her, knowing that in some small way I had been a part of her life. What a strange feeling, remembering how I had always wondered on my birthday if my mother ever remembered me, and now finding out that at possibly that same moment in time she had been thinking about me!

The third thing I remember is when Aunt Helen gave me a very strange “remembrance” of my mother - the ribbon that was on her funeral wreath. It’s a soft pink ribbon that says “OUR LIL”. Maybe a morbid thing to give me, especially since I hadn't known her, but a reminder to me that she had lived ....and she had died.

As we left Aunt Helen’s house, I was filled with so many conflicting emotions - joy that I had met and touched my real family, regret that I couldn’t stay longer, anger with myself that I hadn’t been able to overcome my emotions long enough to ask more questions, relief that it was over and I could go home, guilt that I didn’t especially like some of my siblings, and sadness that I might never see them again. But I had found my “blood” family, and I had found a part of myself that had always been missing. And now all that remained was to fit that piece into my whole being, put it into proper prospective, and get on with my life.

I had spent so much of my life looking for “me” and wishing that I had someone who was related to me by “blood”, as if that would make a difference, would make everything better, would make me better. And I guess it did - it helped me to put my discontent to rest, and it made me see that I already had a family - I had David and Melody. A small family, but mine, and one that meant more to me than any other. They were my present and my future, and with them I could fulfill every dream I ever had about what a family should and can be.

But, the story's not over yet. It's been twenty-nine years since that summer day in 1980. A lot has happened since then. More stories have unfolded, relationships have changed, other family has emerged, lessons were learned, loose ends need to be tied up. (to be continued...just one more time)

My Adoption Story: Part 6 THE FIRST YEAR

2009-11-22T12:56:00.006-05:00

The life of each of her children eerily paralleled each other in various ways. As their stories became known to me in those first few months, I couldn’t help but wonder about fate, genes, life patterns.

Kathy and Lawrence were sent to live with their father after being taken away from Lillian, each already bearing emotional scars that would effect their development and lead to serious problems even into their adult years. Lillian had been a barmaid in what we used to call in Texas a 'shitter bar', and she herself was a drunk . She brought home strangers who were as dysfunctional and unsavory as she herself was. Kathy, being only in grade school, had become the mother to the other three children. (If you've read some of my other posts under the labels 'adoption' and 'about me', you know that my adoptive mother, also, was a drunk and promiscuous, and declared an unfit mother.)

Karen and Stephen, at something like four and five years old, were sent to a foster home. Karen went to school one day leaving a little brother at home, but when she returned that afternoon she was told that they had sent Stephen back to social services. She herself was adopted, but was so distraught at losing her only remaining real family that she never forgave them and left the home at the age of sixteen and struck out on her own (just like her mother had done). She managed to graduate from high school and married young, but she says she found it hard to put her trust in anyone. Plus she blamed herself for Stephen being sent away. She was not in touch with her maternal family until she was 18 years old, only to find her mother dead and her brothers and sister strangers to her.

Stephen grew up with only shadowy memories and images of his real family. All he knew as he grew up in the boy’s home and foster homes was that he had apparently been unwanted and unloved and had been “sent back” as if he were an inferior article of clothing purchased at a store. He was also abused. I think Aunt Helen searched for and was able to find him when he turned 18. He lived with her a short while, but he just had too many issues with anger, and was also caught peeping in windows. Not a good sign.

Little John was put up for adoption as baby, almost immediately after being taken away from Lillian. He was believed to have slight brain damage because of malnutrition.

Although I hadn't met them at this point in the story, 1979, from talking on the phone and exchanging letters we seemed to accept each other without question, and the word LOVE was used immediately. Strangely enough, I found out that they had known about me, known that Lillian had given up a child for adoption and she(I) had died.

I was in touch by mail and phone that first year after finding them, and made it known that my home would be open to them whether it be for refuge or just kinship. There could be problems - it takes a while to accumulate “shared experiences”, until which time we would be virtual strangers. We did have one shared experience - having been born to the same mother - and that in itself made us a family. Maybe together, as a family, we could help one another forget or at least forgive our legacy, and begin a life of sharing, caring, and loving.

ONE YEAR LATER, 1980: Things don’t always work out as one hopes. My hopes for “instant” family were not realized even after a year, and it was such a disappointment.

Kathy and her son, Jacen, moved from Massachusetts to Colorado to live with us for a while (a single mother who needed help, and the new big sis just jumped right in there!). I even attended the birth of her daughter, but we just didn’t hit it off after the initial excitement. Maybe we had our hopes too high, maybe we tried too hard to make up for too many years too fast, maybe we wouldn’t have gotten along no matter what the circumstances. She wanted to be the mother, I didn't want to be mothered by a younger sister. She used people to get what she wanted/needed, we paid our way. The best way to describe it is that we irritated each other. She moved from our home to a trailer home, and then one day she just packed the kids up and left...leaving me responsible for a huge phone bill from a phone that I had co-signed for. But at least I had photos to show for her visit, of her and my niece and nephew with me and my daughter, photos of what looked like a family.

I also met Lawrence once when he came from Texas to our home in Colorado to visit, but it just wasn't for long enough a time to get a fix on each other, though we both tried. After he went on his way, he would never call or write. But, again, I had photos to show of his visit. Of me and my brother!

I talked to Stephen on the phone once, but then he disappeared. Karen would write occasionally, but after a while you run out of things to say to a stranger. At least she called me on Christmas Day. I hoped that as they all got older and got to know themselves better, they’d be more ready and able to establish a relationship with me...and I with them. Until then, I could only wait and hope.

One and a half years after finding my family, August 1980, six year old Melody and I headed for Galveston to meet, finally, my Aunt Helen, Uncle Sonny, Karen, Stephen and cousins for the first time. Lawrence and Kathy and her two kids would also be there. Was I ready for this? (to be continued...Part 7 here)

(Sorry - but I told you it would be long! Hope you're not getting bored. Really, it's almost over.)

Blog List: OOPS!!! (Update...)

2009-11-21T09:45:00.007-05:00

Ok, I think I have most of it back between you guys and my follower list (which I finally figured out). I'm drawing a blank on names of some that I read who don't apparently visit me at all, and some I'm just letting go because I've made nice comments til I'm blue in the face and have never been recipricated or acknowledged in any way. And some others I'll just have to wait til I stumble across them again! I'm so grateful for all of you who come here, and thanks for including me in your blogging visits. You've added a new dimension to my life.

I just accidentally deleted my entire blog list, which I use instead of 'following'. I meant to remove only one blog (who's apparently no longer blogging since they haven't posted in five weeks), and clicked the wrong button. Soooo, if you are a reader of mine, please check in so I can re-add you to my blog list.

Crap (she says, pounding her fist on the table and saying way worse words than crap)! Don' t you just hate it when you do something like that? I'll go back thru my comments and see who all I can pick up that way, but that's pretty time consuming, and some people who I read don't read me. What the hell was I thinking? (Don't answer that, because I obviously wasn't thinking!)

Oh, wait! I can pick you up from my followers list! Ummmm...no I can't. That only gives the names and who they follow. Ok, still working on this ...

My Adoption Story: Part 5 HALF A DREAM COME TRUE

2009-11-19T16:00:00.001-05:00

February 1st, 1979, had been one of those hectic days that a mother/housewife experiences more often than she’d wish. It was cold and cloudy, I was babysitting for an active one year old in addition to my four year old, and they had been at each other’s throats for hours. By 4 o’clock my head was throbbing, my neck was killing me, my nerves were shot, the house was a disaster, and dinner was still a mystery. I had been staring at some of my search papers, at many of my dead ends, and had half convinced myself that the whole thing was probably hopeless. At about 4:30 the phone rang.

“My name is Helen Caballero, and I’m calling from Galveston, Texas. My aunt passed along to me a letter she received from you concerning the descendants of Dennis and Maria Crawley.”

I was dumbstruck. My body started shaking. Mouth went dry. Bees buzzing in ears. Mind blank. After what seemed an eternity, I managed to begin a conversation. Yes, she was a daughter of Rhoda and Martin Crawley. She had a sister named Lillian and a brother named Edward. Lillian had been born on December 29, 1928, but had died in July 1971.

Lillian, born December 29, 1928. Lillian, died July 1971. Lillian, my mother. I had prepared myself for the possibility that I’d never find her. I had prepared myself for the possibility that she wouldn’t want me in her life. I had even prepared myself for the possibility that she’d be dead. Or so I thought, until it became a fact.

Somehow, I managed to say “may I be frank with you?” “You certainly may.” “I was born on May 15, 1948, in Chicago, and the name I was given way Linda Irene ...”. Before I finished, Helen yelled “oh my God, you’re Lillian’s oldest daughter!”

The next few minutes of the phone conversation were filled with exclamations, tears, disbelief, exchanging of stories. I still couldn’t believe my mother was dead - but my Aunt Helen couldn’t believe that I was alive! They had apparently contacted the orphanage after my mother had returned to her family, and had been told that I had died in a fire. Lillian eventually married and gave birth to two children, then later to three others by different men. She, like my adoptive mother, had a drinking problem, and all of the children had been taken away from her at almost the same time that I was taken away from my adoptive mother for the same reason.

The news that I had two sisters and three brothers was more than I had hoped for in regard to siblings, but didn’t quite make up for the loss of my mother at that moment. Having been raised an only child, I had always dreamed of having brothers and sisters somewhere, so half of that dream had come true. But half of my dream was shattered - the idealized version of a mother that I had envisioned in my youth had instead been an alcoholic and an abusive mother who had died young of cirrhosis of the liver, destitute and lonely.

When my first conversation with Aunt Helen ended, I was left both drained and elated. One of my brothers was living with her, and it was arranged for me to call back that night to talk to him. In the meantime, I had to digest all that had been said. To know that I had found my family thirty years after my birth, and after only a five month search, was almost more than I could believe. I knew that I would have to actually see and touch them before I truly believed it.

The most difficult thing to accept was that my mother was dead. I cried for her that night as if she had just died that day, which for me she had. I mourned her as if I’d known her and loved her all my life, and mourned the fact that I would never be able to know her. This went on for several days, until one night I had a dream that ended my grief. In the dream, I was visiting her grave and talking to her, telling her about my search and how I’d found Aunt Helen and the other kids. I told her “Lillian, you let me down twice in my life. First you gave me away after I was born, for which I can forgive you and maybe even thank you. Then you died before I had a chance to find you, to know you, to know a mother’s love. But you left me a family, an aunt and brothers and sisters and cousins, and for that I’ll be forever grateful”. As I walked away from the grave in my dream, I woke up with tears really streaming down my face, and cried the last tears for the lady who had given me life.

Lillian’s legacy to me was a family. Lillian’s legacy to life was six emotionally scarred children. My life and the life of each of her other children eerily paralleled each other in various ways. As their stories became know to me, I couldn’t help but wonder about fate, genes, life patterns. (to be continued...Part 6 here)

My Adoption Story: Part 4 A GOOD LEAD

2009-11-13T16:35:00.013-05:00

Besides the emotional impact the letter had on me, it also supplied me with enough information to give my search direction. She was born on December 29, 1928, she was from Galveston, Texas, and she had gone to work as a file clerk at the age of sixteen - and the chances were very good that her last name was Crawley. Now the real work would begin.

The letters I wrote and the phone calls I made over the next five months! The best contact was the Rosenburg Library in Galveston, for they helped research old City Directories (these aren't phone books, but more like a census with names, occupations, etc.). By obtaining these old listings, I was able to put together some names that, strangely, I knew instinctively were my family.

Beginning at the time of my conception, 1947, I found a Martin and Rhoda Crawley (my grandparents). Going even further back, I found that Martin and Rhoda had lived with a Dennis and Maria Crawley (my great-grandparents). This was pure speculation and everyone told me not to get my hopes too high, but I just knew that’s who they were. In 1944, there appeared a Lillian Crawley who was working as a file clerk - the same year that my sixteen year old mother was supposedly working as a file clerk. In 1948, the year I was born, Lillian disappeared from the listings. In 1950, two years after my birth, Lillian appeared again. The problem was that in 1964 all listings for Crawley disappeared - and I had no idea where to go from there.

The library went over and above what I could have expected of them. I had written to ask if they had newspaper obituaries for Dennis, Maria, Rhoda and Martin, and they had one for each which they sent me copies of. The lady who did the research took it upon herself to check the current phone book for listings of some of the next-of-kin, and was able to find listings of some of them, including listings for two of Rhoda’s sisters (my great-aunts). She sent me their names and addresses.

On January 29, I sent a letter to each of the ladies. I took some time to compose them as I didn’t want to risk hurting my mother by letting any skeletons out of the closet. Since I was unsure of exactly how the names I had collected along the way were connected (despite my gut feelings), I decided to take the approach that I was tracing the family of Dennis and Maria Crawley. I also mentioned a few other names, including Lillian’s, and asked if they could give any information on them. Once the letters were written and mailed, I again began a mailbox vigil - and jumped in anticipation every time the phone rang. (to be continued...Part 5 here)

My Adoption Story: Part 3 ORPHANAGE LETTER

2009-11-13T16:19:00.018-05:00

The day the letter came was one of the most emotional experiences of my life. I would finally have some idea of who my mother was and why she had given me up. As I read the letter through the first time, I felt as if I were intruding on someone’s life. As I read it a second time, I realized that I was reading about my mother! I cried as I read it through the third time:

“I have your written request for information from you adoption file. We can understand your need to know and are happy to provide any information we have except that which might identify the natural parents, since that part of the record is sealed by law.”

“Your first question deals with the issue of the delay between your birthday, May 15, and the date of the relinquishment by the mother to the agency for adoption. According to the record, your mother was having difficulty with the decision to relinquish. This ambivalence was increased because of the pressure of other young mothers in the hospital who urged her to keep the child. The worker from the Lake Bluff Orphanage sensed the fact that your mother had not really resolved her feelings in the matter and encouraged her not to sign until they had been able to help her work through her real feelings in the matter. The worker from the agency actually delayed the signing of the papers two weeks beyond the time when the mother wanted to sign just to be sure. This case worker developed a very warm relationship with her and it is obvious that your mother came to the belief that she was helping you by making it possible for someone else to give you the care which she was not in a position to give you at that early stage in her life.”

“You asked about where she was confined during her pregnancy. The police- woman who befriended her after she had hitchhiked to Chicago actually took her into her own home until some of the neighbors complained about that. The kindly policewoman then arranged for her to enter one of the maternity homes in the city. At the time of delivery then, she was admitted to a hospital.”

“According to our records, the medical information show that your mother was a very healthy person and that there were no hereditary diseases. She was born December 29, 1928, and was of French-English-Irish descent. Because she had not had a stable home and family life, and not been able to complete grade school, she had been employed from an early age. According to the record, she ‘is a petite, healthy looking nineteen year old girl from Galveston, Texas. She has brown hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion. She is about 5 feet 1 inch tall and well proportioned.’

“There is an indication that she was interested in sports such as skating, swimming, and bowling. She had left home at the age of sixteen and lived independently, working as a file clerk.”

“We have no information about the putative father except her report that he was 23 years of age, had dark hair, and probably graduated from high school.”

“I hope this information is helpful to you. Having read the file carefully, I am convinced that your natural mother struggled through a difficult decision and finally came to the conclusion that it was in your best interests, given her difficult life situation, to give you up for adoption by a family which could offer more stability.”

“Given the kind of world she lived in then, that seemed to be the most selfless plan and one made in genuine concern for your well being. If she were making that same decision today, she would be facing a different world and with different options. But according to our records, and given the world in which she was living at that time, she and the workers from the orphanage felt that she was making a good decision. I hope you feel that way, too.”

Besides the emotional impact the letter had on me, it also supplied me with enough information to give my search direction. She was born on December 29, 1928, she was from Galveston, Texas, and she had gone to work as a file clerk at the age of sixteen - and the chances were very good that her last name was Crawley. Now the real work would begin. (to be continued...Part 4 here)

My Adoption Story: Part 2 THE SEARCH

2009-11-13T15:36:00.014-05:00

Each day I waited nervously for the adoption papers to arrive, and each day it seemed that the mailman arrived later than the day before. I would actually tremble with anticipation when walking to the mailbox! When they finally came, I hesitated before opening the thick envelope. Would they contain a key to my identity, or would they just be a lot of legal words masking my identity and closing the door on my search?

It's kind of funny when something like this happens. As excited as you are, you are equally filled with dread. Your mind goes into a funny whirly place, with gauze over your brain and ringing in your ears. Your stomach is in your throat, your heart is beating wildly, your mouth goes dry. You lick and purse your lips a few times, take some cleansing breaths, glance around to see if anyone is watching and wondering what you're doing just standing there. You can't decide whether to rip it open right there, or wait until you're in the safety of your house and open it slowly and neatly. It makes you see why sometimes people will hand over the envelope to someone else and say "no, please, you open it".

IN THE COUNTY COURT OF COOK COUNTY: Thomas W. Ecklund and Irene M. Ecklund -vs- No. 124737Lake Bluff Orphanage, a corporation, and Linda Irene Crawley, a minor. There it was in black and white - LINDA IRENE CRAWLEY! It took a few minutes to get past that, the name my real mother had given me at birth, but as I read on I discovered that “on the 9th day of August, 1948, the mother of said child duly surrendered the said child to the Lake Bluff Orphanage for the purpose of adoption.” August 9? Why had she waited almost three months to sign relinquishment papers? Had she kept me with her during those three months? Had she held me and loved me, only to decide that she couldn’t or didn’t want to keep me?

“The Court further finds that said petitioners are of sufficient ability to bring up said child, and to furnish suitable nurture and education therefore, and that it is fit and proper, and for the best interests of said minor, that said adoption should be had.” In thinking quickly over my childhood, I had to laugh at this paragraph, although it was certainly not something to laugh about. Suitable nurture? Best interests? Of course, they couldn't have known what actually lay ahead.

“It is further ordered, adjudged, and decreed that the name of the child and it is hereby changed to Linda Jean Ecklund, according to the prayer of the petitioners herein.” So they had kept the name that my birth mother had given me, Linda. But instead of keeping the middle name, Irene, which was my new adoptive mother's name, they changed it to Jean, after her sister. I would later learn that my maternal grandmother's name was Rhoda Irene, and I had been named after her.

After receiving and reviewing the adoption papers, I began an earnest search for the lady who had given me life. It didn’t take long to realize what a huge task I had undertaken! First, I had to determine what information I already had ( which was not much despite all the paperwork-birth name, orphanage, name of hospital) and where the information would best be put to use.

The first place I wrote was the hospital for any records that might still exist. For a $20 search and copy fee, they were able to supply me with xerox copies of all my hospital records, which would also include my mother's since they were entertwined. Of course, once again, I had to wait for it to come in the mail, which took several weeks! When they did arrive, there was little information to aid in my search. Though I did learn that I was a poor eater, and had had a rash on my face. All reference to my mother's name had been blacked out, but I did see record of her labor and delivery. And I did learn that I had been released directly to the Lake Bluff Orphanage on May 26, 1948, 11 days old and weighing 5 pounds 12 ounces. Which meant that my mother had not kept me for those three months before signing the relinquishment papers.

The next step was to contact the orphanage. It took several weeks to locate it because of a name and phone number confusion, but it was a very fruitful contact. After talking to the orphanage director by phone, he promised to send any “non-identifying” information that they had on file. Until I received his letter, there was nothing I could do but wait. Again.

(You may be wondering why I didn't just get my birth certificate since I knew the birth name now, but at that time all birth records sealed forever. There was a battle of sorts going on in this time period with adoptees and various groups trying to get those records unsealed when an adoptee turned eighteen , but I have forgotten the details all these years later.)

The day the letter came was one of the most intense experiences of my life. For the first time in my life, I would have some idea of who my mother was and why she had given me up. As I read the letter through the first time, I felt as if I were intruding on someone’s life. As I read it a second time, I realized that I was reading about my mother! I cried as I read it through the third time. (to be continued...Part 3 here)