Happy Birthday, Laurel

Today is my sister, Laurel's, birthday.  She is a tiny bit over 2 years younger than me but for most of the years I've known her that hasn't mattered at all.  (It does seem like there were a couple of years in our teens when we didn't have much in common but that was a short time a long time ago.)

In honor of her birthday, I thought I'd share a few things that not everybody might know about her.

And we'll start with the very early years.  She's always been blond but when she was really little, she was a real towhead.  Here she is with our little brother whose birthday is also today and who was born exactly a year after Laurel.

There were two girls and two boys in our family and Laurel and I were almost inseparable during our growing up years.

We grew up on a farm and spent all our leisure and work times together.  We shared responsibility for breakfasts, helping with supper, cleaning up after, feeding the rabbits, and weeding the garden.  We shared hours playing with the kittens and lambs, riding our horse, playing baseball in the orchard, and walking down the field road.

She always carried her babies like this:  (She's 7 months pregnant here)

We spent the most time together as our kids were growing up.  In fact, we used to take turns cleaning our houses.  It was so much more fun with two doing the work instead of one.

 

 She's a mover and a shaker.  She stayed with us a short time a few years ago and we finally got the wallpaper taken down in our hall and living room.  We also re-designed one of our ponds and probably did lots of other little projects that don't come to mind right now.

She bought a house all by herself, improved it (a lot!), and now rents it out.

She has three beautiful daughters and two handsome sons.

 

She's a baby and little kid magnet.  They all seem to fall in love with her at first sight.  (Even my little namesake.)

She's fun-loving.

 

But quiet and un-assuming.

Her legs and hand were once featured on a billboard on I-94.

She's married to a wonderful man who shares her love for almost everything including travel.

She and I took an overnight trip to Missouri and returned on a bus a couple of days late.

And we took a trip to North Dakota and returned on a bus a couple of days late.

We shared an apartment, rode the South Shore together every morning and every night when we both worked in Chicago, dated and later married two guys who worked on the South Shore, and shared every secret, confidence, joy, and pain that two sisters could share.

And most importantly, she's a wonderful person who would do anything for anybody.  She's never one to let grass grow under her feet and has always striven to improve herself and help those around her improve as well.   She's an excellent landscaper, decorator, and even a great golfer.  For all these things, I should be a little jealous, but I'm not.  I know I'm the lucky one.  She's my sister.

So, happy birthday, Laurel.  I hope it's awesome!!!

Some Nostalgia

At Beth's last week, I heard her musing about what her next You Capture subject would be. One of the subjects she mentioned was Rustic and we talked about it a little but then she decided on Industrial instead. For some reason, though, my mind latched on Rustic and I determined to try to catch some Rustic shots for the next You Capture.

Two days before You Capture day, I mentioned how hard I'd been working to capture Rustic pictures and Beth reminded me that the subject was Industrial. Rats!

As it turned out a family emergency distracted me from even thinking about a post so it didn't matter; but today, as I looked through those pictures, I wondered what to do with them. Finally, I decided they belonged in a post because the first place I sought Rustic was an abandoned farm where I'd spent many years and hours and happy family events.

The house is long gone, torn down after my dad moved to a continuing care facility but that old barn still stands - although barely.

When we first moved here, it was a dairy farm. This milk house, attached by a hallway to the barn, was where the milk was cooled after each milking, where it was stored until the big tank truck picked it up each day, and where all those milking buckets and accessories were washed.

The silo was where the cut green corn stalks were stored and allowed to ferment before being fed to the milk cows.

Eventually, the dairy operation proved to be too much work for a family operation where my younger brother was in high school, my older brother in National Guard basic training, my sister and I worked full time in Chicago, and dad worked full time so most of the work was on the shoulders of my overworked but ever optimistic mom.

But still the barn was a hub of activity. Dad had a workshop here where he fixed, fabricated, and invented everything from tools and cars to farm equipment and household items. He did it all and his sons and grandsons worked a lot here too, spending endless hours learning from a man who had a lot to teach and a personality that made everything exciting and hilarious.
It's hard to believe that it could have deteriorated this much so quickly but I guess it just shows what neglect can do. And, I think more than neglect punches holes through concrete block - maybe target practice but more than neglect.

It probably started with the roof. Once it was no longer patched, the barn was vulnerable to the effects of the weather and pretty soon nothing could have saved it. The lightning rods with their weather vanes on the roof fans are still there though.

In a way, I hated to take these pictures because I knew they'd make me sad but there's more than sadness in my heart when I look at them.

There are thousands of happy memories. I look at the pictures and see my mom and dad - happy, hard-working, and perfect! I see family get-togethers where our children played so freely and happily and learned to love their cousins like siblings.

The house may be gone and the barn might as well be, but the memories are intact. Sometimes it just takes a picture or two to bring them out.

Home

Well, vacation's over. We couldn't have had a better time. We started and ended our trip visiting Lori in Nebraska

and the whole middle was filled with fun and family in Colorado Springs.

I'm finding out that no matter how great the trip, getting home feels good too. (It makes me wonder. If we move south someday after Mr. Right retires, will it feel as much like home as where we've lived for the last 38 years? Mr. Right says, yes. Home is where you hang your hat.)

Anyway, I do enjoy getting home except I didn't know we had monsoon-type rains while we were gone and that our usual fast-growing lawn had turned into a jungle. And how did those weeds spring up everywhere? Did I really leave all those rocks around the pond and the backyard in such disarray? And can the mail and newspapers possibly make that huge of a pile? What about the laundry? Where did all that come from?

Then there's the dreaded unpacking. It seemed like we unpacked for hours the first night we were home and we didn't even finish! Why is it so much more fun to pack than to unpack?

We got home on Friday and on Saturday we had company from Michigan. We also had to spend some time with our Valpo family so I didn't really catch up on much (or anything) over the weekend but that's okay. Many years ago when all six kids were little, I struggled to keep up and worried then about what wasn't done. My sister, Laurel, embroidered a verse for me that I've never forgotten.

Cleaning and sweeping can wait til tomorrow
'cause babies grow up I've learned to my sorrow
So settle down cobwebs and dust go to sleep
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

I've carried that philosophy with me into grandparenthood. I was so happy to see my kids and grandkids and great grandkids this weekend that I wouldn't have considered wasting one moment while they were here mowing the lawn or sorting mail. I love every moment that I can spend with all of them.

So it was a great ending to a great vacation. Now if I could just figure out a way to see my Kentucky and Virginia kids and grandkids, life would be complete. I'll figure out a way but first I've got a lawn to mow and rake and a lot of weeds to deal with.

(By the way, which would annoy the neighbors the most - the wild, unkempt grounds or weed whacking at 7 am?) I sure hope it's the former.

Looking Back Tuesday - Wrong Way All Day in 1966

I wrote the following synopsis for a post back in May and at that time, indicated that a future post would tell what happened next. This is that original post clip.

When my sister, Laurel, and I drove our brother back to Ft. Leonard Wood after a weekend leave from the National Guard back in the spring of 1966, we arrived so late in the day that we had to spend the night in a motel. It was located right on the cloverleaf that would take us back to Indiana so we didn't need to look at a map to find our way home. We drove all day and had a great time. The muffler went out on the VW so we bought some white shoe polish, painted a huge mouse on the side of the car and the words 'the mouse that roared', and laughed and laughed. We saw signs that said Springfield so we knew we were headed in the right direction and since we didn't have to worry about changing highways until we got near Chicago, we just kept on going. About the time we were wondering why we weren't seeing signs of Chicago, the engine blew on our little 'mouse that roared'. A couple of helpful motorists, a truck driver and a local resident, stopped to help us. They looked at our license plate and asked where we were headed. We said, "Home, to Indiana". They said, "You're eight miles from the Oklahoma border". Laurel and I looked at each other and, you guessed it, laughed until we couldn't breathe. We had driven all day - the wrong way. And the Springfield signs we had seen were not for Springfield, Illinois like we thought. They were for Springfield, Missouri. How we got home will be a subject for a future post.

Now, here's the rest of the story.

One of the motorists towed us to the nearest truck stop. That truck stop was not the modern oasis that motorists enjoy today. It was truly a truck stop where mainly truckers stopped and ate lunch. You could gas up and eat and leave. That was about it. Of course, the proprietor knew the locals and knew the mechanic who would come and analyze our engine problems.

Soon there was a group of men standing around the car, looking at our mouse with the long tail artwork and saying hilarious things like, "she ain't gonna roar no more". And offering all kinds of help for my sister and I like "I've got a place you can stay tonight. bwhaha!" Soon, though, a very countrified looking southern gentleman (think hillbilly) named Pud proclaimed that the engine was truly blown and would cost hundreds of dollars to fix or replace. I turned to my sister and said, "what are we going to do?" and she replied, "let's just wait 'til the mechanic gets here". "That", I said, "is the mechanic". And we laughed and laughed and laughed!

Soon we realized we were going to have stop laughing and call our Dad and see if he'd send us the money to get the car fixed. Deep down we both knew that wasn't going to happen. But I called (probably collect) and, we were right. He wasn't going to send that huge amount of money. In fact he wasn't going to send any money because he seemed to think it wasn't a mistake that we drove all day the wrong way. He thought we were running away. Why we would do that I don't know but all he said was, "get home". But, Dad, I said, "we only have $13 between us. Just before he hung up he said it again, "get home".

In Dad’s defense, I’m sure he thought we were too smart to drive all day the wrong way but he was wrong.

My sister and I were nothing if not faithful so we decided to walk out in the beautiful field behind the truck stop and say a prayer. Probably we should have known when we climbed through that fence that there might be cattle in there but obviously this wasn’t a stage in our lives where we always wore our thinking caps. There was a herd of cattle but they were docile and we escaped unharmed.

And most importantly, our prayers were answered.

Pud lent us the money for bus tickets and towed our car to his house, we never called home again. When I think of what our poor mom must have gone through, it almost breaks my heart. There really wasn't a way for them to research where we were or who we were with. There were no cell phones or computers to help us find our way or help them find us once that connection was broken. We knew where we were and we knew we were okay, but we were too stubborn to share that with our parents. I'm thinking that about the time Dad hung up that phone, he was starting to regret being so curt and terse. On the other hand, he must have known that if we couldn’t figure something out, we’d call back.

We rode that bus overnight and arrived in downtown Chicago. From there we took the South Shore train to Michigan City. We called home then because it was about 13 miles from the train station to our house and we were REALLY tired. Sure enough, Mom was waiting for us when we got there.

Now all these years I've felt that we were greatly wronged that day. That Dad should have made sure there was a way for us to get home - that he should have helped us figure something out. Now, after thinking about this post, I'm thinking differently. (These blogs can be very therapeutic.) Now I'm thinking we should have kept the home front apprised of where we were those two days and what we were doing.

Nothing was ever said about those two days when we were out of contact.

And when my Dad and Mom drove to Missouri a few weeks later to pick up my car, Pud told them what nice girls we were. He said we were so polite that we even asked if we could smoke before we lit up in his truck. Ooops. We may have told Dad that we never smoked.

And as far as our being too stubborn to call home again? I wonder where we inherited that trait.

Versatile Blogger Award

Thank you Nancy for sending me this Versatile Blogger Award. I really enjoyed reading the post you wrote when you received it and, based on that, I thought to participate. What I didn't think about was that it might be difficult to think of 7 interesting things to write about myself. Then I remembered, you never said they had to be interesting so here goes:


1. When our first daughter, Lori, was born back in 1969, the doctor didn't recommend using plastic pants (disposable diapers didn't exist as far we knew) for at least three months. So every time our baby wet her diaper, it required a complete change of clothes. And we didn't think anything of it.

2. I'm retired and love it more than words can say. I was very unhappy in my job and I firmly believe that life shouldn't be lived unhappily. Now, though, I'm challenged to enjoy this retirement to the fullest because, guess what, there aren't enough hours in the day. I'm still working on sorting all this out - doing the things I love to do, doing the things I need to do, and doing the things that I just want to get done. It's a process but I think I'm making progress.

3. When my sister, Laurel, and I drove our brother back to Ft. Leonard Wood after a weekend leave from the National Guard back in the spring of 1966, we arrived so late in the day that we had to spend the night in a motel. It was located right on the cloverleaf that would take us back to Indiana so we didn't need to look at a map to find our way home. We drove all day and had a great time. The muffler went out on the VW so we bought some white shoe polish, painted a huge mouse on the side of the car and the words 'the mouse that roared', and laughed and laughed. We saw signs that said Springfield so we knew we were headed in the right direction and since we didn't have to worry about changing highways until we got near Chicago, we just kept on going. About the time we were wondering why we weren't seeing signs of Chicago, the engine blew on our little 'mouse that roared'. A couple of helpful motorists, a truck driver and a local resident, stopped to help us. They looked at our license plate and asked where we were headed. We said, "Home, to Indiana". They said, "You're eight miles from the Oklahoma border". Laurel and I looked at each other and, you guessed it, laughed until we couldn't breathe. We had driven all day - the wrong way. And the Springfield signs we had seen were not for Springfield, Illinois like we thought. They were for Springfield, Missouri. How we got home will be a subject for a future post.

4. I'm a koi pond enthusiast. I love my big fish and my tranquil ponds. What I don't love is cleaning the ponds and this spring the cleaning of the big pond is doubly challenging because we're completely re-working it. Some of the rocks that Mr. Right and I are moving were put in place with a tractor so it's a big job but we're finally making some progress. I'll be posting pictures of the finished project if and when we ever get it done.

5. When I was 18, I bought a red '64 Volkswagon Beatle that I loved. My friends and I went out almost every night meeting people we already knew and people we didn't know and having the time of our lives.

6. I used to smoke 3 packs (or more) of cigarettes a day and NOBODY thought that I, of all people, would ever be able to quit; but one day (and I remember exactly where I was when it happened) a thought came into my head that I believed in my heart, "If you don't quit smoking, you will never see your grandchildren". And finally something was powerful enough to make me quit.

7. Lynn, Betty, Rosanne, and Laurel are four very special women that I've known most of my life. Some I seldom see, some I never see but they will always be close to me in my heart. Each one has profoundly affected my life in some way and I'll always love them for it.

That's it and it was a lot of fun re-visiting these amazing times for me. Thank you again, Nancy, for the opportunity.

Now, I'll address the next prerequisite of the award - passing it on to other bloggers. Since Nancy sent it to me and Rhonda, they're both out so I'll send it to Beth. She started me on this blogging journey and I'm very grateful to her for that. The second goes to Mendie. I don't personally know her but, despite the disparity in our ages, I feel like we have a lot in common. The third and fourth go to Toadmama and Imadramamama both of whom I've recently discovered and very much enjoy following.

I hope we're allowed to pass it to four people because I'd really enjoy hearing what each one has to say!

Busy Day, Disappointment, and Triumph

Today my sister and I went shopping. It wasn't your everyday shopping either. We were shopping for a wedding dress for her and a maid-of-honor dress for me. This is her second marriage and we're all very happy for her. And I'm especially excited that I get to be her attendant. When she got married for the first time over forty years ago, I wasn't able to be here. Mr. Right was in the Air Force and we were stationed in the southern tip of New Mexico. Unfortunately, money was tight and I had a new job so a quick flight to Indiana was out of the question. Truly, it broke my heart.

She's my only sister and we're only a couple of years apart in age. We've always been very close. I never could have foreseen that I might not be there when she got married.

Now, this second, small wedding is only a little over a week away and I'm a little nervous and very excited.

Shopping was a bit of a trial since I've packed on about twenty pounds since I retired but I'm determined to not let it put a damper on the occasion. And I think I've finally got my mind right on changing the weight gain into weight loss. We'll see.

So we had a busy day, I was disappointed that nothing fit, but I'm still optimistic and determined to change that weight problem around.

And ultimately, nothing could be sweeter than her wedding and my part in it. After forty years, It's time.