A solid foundation.

There were times growing up that I didn't always appreciate being in a large family, especially in a small town. Not only was I related to probably half the town, but the other half were friends with some member of my family. So privacy was not a luxury, and getting away with ANYTHING didn't happen.

But I've learned as life goes on, as I raise my own family and as I experience the dysfunctional relationships in my husband's family, what a truly remarkable childhood it was.  

I'm not saying that all my family members were perfect, or all my husband's were bad. Indeed, all of us are flawed human beings. But what seems different is how, given similar experiences and community environments, how members of the two families responded to  their challenges. And how those reactions shaped each family.

Who you spend your formative years with can have a huge impact on who you become and how you approach life. These family influences definitely mold your character.  For me, it was my father's side of the family. 

I owe who I am to the ten children of my grandparents, Dave and Phoebe. Each of them brought a different element to the family dynamics, and each taught me something about handling life's challenges and opportunities. 

I would like to share each one of them with you this year. My creative challenge will be to find one word to describe each of them, and their impact on my life. I say "challenge" because I already know that one word won't be enough to explain their influence.

I am thankful to Dave, Bess, Mary, Jim, Bill, Larry, Gary, Bob, Mike and Jayne for teaching me the important lessons of life. Their legacy will live on through my children and,  hopefully, their children.

Deja Vu

                                             "Family faces are magic mirrors. 

Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present and future. 

We make discoveries about ourselves."  

-Gail Lumet Buckley

 

Family reunions are a joyful reminder of how life goes on. Children become parents, parents become grandparents. The voids of those we lost are filled by the new arrivals.

Life comes full circle.

 

At this year's reunion, I kept finding myself thinking there goes Jeri's little girl Phoebe or here comes Pennie. But then I'd catch myself and remember this is 2010. They aren't those little people anymore, instead, they have created THESE little people of their own. These beautiful faces, the splitting images of their mommies.

Life is magical.

The Day My World Changed.

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."- Anais Nin


The moment that will change your life forever doesn't march in carrying a banner that says "THIS IS IT". When you are in the moment, it just seems like a normal moment in your life. It is only through time that we realize, wow, if I hadn't done (fill in the blank) then (fill in the blank) would never have happened, and how totally different my life would have been.


Exactly 33 years ago today I met my BFF at CMU freshmen orientation. I was entering a lecture room in Anspach Hall and saw her sitting alone. It was a chance glance (bright, white legs) to the left that would change our lives forever. 


I don't even remember what Jeanee and I talked about that first day, I just remember how engaging and cheerful she was. How she made me laugh and how she accepted me for me. And the only thing I knew about our future, was that we would be great friends. (Especially after meeting up with her and her mother, Jeanette, at The Cabin for Jeanee's 18th birthday celebration later that evening! That sealed the deal.)


Our lives wouldn't always be spent by each other's side, but we knew we were always there. Life would send each of us in different directions, but our connection always kept us in touch and many times pulled us together again. As a bridesmaid in her wedding I would meet my future husband, her brother. My best friend would be my children's aunt. Our families were forever connected. See what I mean by life changing? If I hadn't met her, who would I have been married to now? Would I have children? The world WOULD have been a different and incomplete place for me without her. 


During these 33 years there has never been anyone else in my life that has shared with me what she has, our life stories are intertwined, sometimes bittersweet, but always full of memories of laughter and love. And, most importantly, understanding and forgiveness. 

Happy 51st birthday girlfriend.

Fauchie, NOT Hank

Remember that little guy I fondly referred to as Hank? You know, short for Francis Henry Smith. Seemed safe, and cute. 


Well, I was just sent a picture of him later in life. He is the one in the center. And his family called him, Fauchie. 


Now I don't know what that meant, but if this was the 1920's, and I was a girl on that beach, well, I think you know what I'm saying.


Time to take a quick dip in the cold ocean ladies.

Mr. Smith goes to Seattle!

FRANCES HENRY SMITH

b. August 31, 1903, Santa Barbara, California

I mentioned earlier this month that I had taken up a new hobby. And I'm glad to say it has been worth EVERY penny. 


This past week I found Mr. Smith (I wonder what his real nickname was? He is so adorable, I've decided to call him Hank) in another antique store in the small town where I work. 


This time I hit the jackpot. Included in the box were other pictures of this little guy's relatives - a great aunt and her family, a great-great uncle and two distant cousins. This wasn't clear to me when I initially purchased them, I was just happy to find SOOO many pictures with names and dates on the back. 


As I started to research lil' Hank, I realized several of the pictures had the last name Smith on the back. Though, Smith is a very common name, I crossed my fingers hoping I had found a family collection. 


In no time, thanks to Ancestry.com (no, I do not work for them...but if I could - I WOULD), Hank's family tree began to emerge. And, almost as quickly, I had made contact with Hank's nephew and Hank's son and daughter. They did not know a picture of him as a baby ever existed.


How wonderful is that? 
I happily mailed the four images to Hank's family. 
He is on his way home to Seattle right now!


This here internet thing is awesome!

A Love Story

Jake and Joel

You don't raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes. ~Walter M. Schirra, Sr.

PHOEBE'S PHLOWER

Queen Anne's Lace needs a new name!
A weed is but an unloved flower -Ella Wheeler Wilcox

For more than half my life, which is a significant amount of time, (I constantly feel compelled to throw this type of stuff in) I always thought this lacy, delicate wildflower was called Grandmother's Lace. More than likely it was planted in my subconscious because my grandmother, Phoebe, introduced it to me when I was young girl.

Grandma Phoebe was a lover of nature, she loved all things wild, and could name every bird species and wildflower in sight. Clearly I transferred that passion into renaming Queen Anne's lace (Daucus Carota, is its scientific name) Grandmother's Lace.

Everything about this flower brings back memories of grandma. It's bloom resembles the hand-embroidered edges to hankies or doilies that she and other family members would spend hours making. The pure volume of Queen Anne's along a ditch reminds me of our family in a way as well. It was a large one, 30 plus, wild, untamed grandchildren. And just like those unkept wildflowers, Grandma Phoebe found the beauty in each one of us. She could make you feel like you were the only child in the room, even when the noise and chaos would suggest otherwise. There even is a great deal of symbolism in this wildflower to the economics of our life back then. We didn't have a lot of money or a lot of possessions, but who needed overpriced roses, when nature had given us a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers free for all of us to enjoy.

As I grow older, her appreciation for these simple things of life seems to take on more meaning. What seemed so boring to me as a pre-teen, now seems like opportunity wasted to better understand the real beauty of life. Grandma Phoebe had it down cold. Beauty in the everyday and love for it, is the real wealth. Grandma mastered that, because as I look back on my childhood and my time with her, I don't remember ever feeling like I went without or that I missed out on anything. Every memory of her is priceless.

So now, I'd like to know who or where to petition for a name change. It seems ironic to me that this wildflower, aka weed, would be named after a queen. These days I know it wouldn't be found in a palace. I know the story behind the name, but, heck, times change, and we live in a world where history is constantly being corrected. This wildflower existed before the time of Queen Anne, her grandmother and her grandmother's grandmother.

Of course, I am willing to compromise on the new name. It doesn't have to be named "Phoebe's Phlower". (I just like to type it this way). I would settle for "Grandmother's Lace" Kind of a tribute for all grandmothers who have taken their grandchildren on nature walks, and gladly gathered bouquets of wildflowers along the way. To me it just seems right it be named for those who understand its true meaning. Queen Anne can still have her furniture, just give us back the flower.

I'm sure I'm not alone in this idea. I'm sure it isn't even an original idea. Being introduced to wildflowers by a grandparent is universal. It is their unofficial job. They've learned to slow down and breathe, to appreciate that beauty isn't in a bottle or on a label. It surrounds us each day in nature if we just take the time to look. When I retire, and am blessed with grandchildren, I plan on taking it up as a second career as well.

Until then, I intend to look into this name change thing.

Sentimental Journey...

It's been awhile since I posted anything. Life does that. Christmas,
kids sports and activities, high school graduation, and other
responsibilities sometimes get in the way of sitting down
and writing.

It was a good year, but sad, as I watch another child graduate
from high school and start off on her own journey. So I've been
feeling sentimental lately, maybe even selfishly wishing for
some of this time back that is escaping me.

This is one of my favorite pictures from my childhood...I bet we
all have one like this. So typical 60's/70's family travels to the
Southwest. We always spent about a month on the road over
Christmas breaks...weaving through Texas, New Mexico and Arizona.
(See the blog below on those memories!)

Anyway, this picture is a postcard representation of the time and
the place. Not to mention the clothes. They were custom, one of
a kind...my mother could stretch a yard of fabric like no ones
business! (Wouldn't our kids just die if they had to wear anything
besides AE or Hollister?)

So, that is my journey back in time for today. Hope you enjoy the
picture and reminds you of your own family journeys!

Friday Night Lights

Sometimes life's most memorable journeys are the ones closest to home!
Like Friday nights at the local high school football field.
Laughing with your best friends, cheering on the boys to victory
and watching our daughters' cheer team on the sidelines...
keeps life in prespective.

Friends, families and hometowns are the mortar in our path
through life! They mold us, support us and give us strength
along our travels.
Carry laughter in your heart and a smile on your face wherever you go!