Loss

This evening another huge hole has been torn in the fabric of my family. We mourn the loss of my eldest cousin, Barbara Allen Moore, who passed away from leukemia after a brave fight.

Barbie (and only our family called her that) was very close to my mom, who I think considered her to be more of a younger sister than a niece.  Barbie was at our house a lot as a young bride, seeking advice from Mom or doing little make-overs on us with her Avon.

I babysat her kids, then when they were almost grown up, she babysat mine. As adults, she and I became good friends. Our interests and hobbies were the same and we could talk for hours upon hours about gardens and birds and needlework and cooking. She sang in my wedding, too.

She was direct and to-the-point most of the time, calling a spade and spade and moving on with her life. Here’s what she had to say about herself in her Blogger profile:

“About Me: I am a mother, grandmother, artist, cook, baker, tomboy, feminist, writer, reader, shoe junkie and teacher. Life has often been very hard but I can't seem to lose my optimism or cancel my dreams or give up on humankind. It's just not in me to say stop when it's so much more fun to say go, go, go faster! Live life like you mean it!”

And this is what she wrote in her Facebook profile:

“I went on "my travels" a few years ago. Me, my old truck and Carlos Santana. We drove thru 12 states, talked to a lot of people, got lost, got found, saw lots of stuff. What I mostly remember was the women who were astonished that I would be driving around the country all alone. "What if you get a flat tire? What if your truck breaks down? What if you get lost?" were the most common questions. "I could never do that." was the most common reply. I had spent my entire life raising children, first my siblings then my own and it was time to take a break and just be alone with me. I had a great time! There was the old Navajo on Rt. 66 who had worked the railroad in North Platte the same time as Grandpa Bob, the giggly girls in California, the gas station attendants in Oregon who laughed at my astonishment over them pumping my gas, checking the tires and fluids etc. When I voiced my surprise they said "You’re in Oregon now ma’am, we do things different here". Camping by the ocean in Washington after assuring everyone that Nebraska did exist and no we didn't have an ocean. Seeing the aquaduct system and fruit tree groves in California. No, I won't spend time in Wyoming again. Stayed in the mountains in Colorado w/ my brother and enjoyed the museums of Santa Fe. Now, at this time in my life when the challenge is to just get up everyday, ignore my dread disease, and live, I remember that trip and how much fun I had. How it opened up the wanderlust in me, how the call of the ocean still rings in my ears. I have a list now of places to go and see and a plan to do it. So in the long scheme of my life I've learned that now is the most important thing and what I learn is the next. Cooking, sewing, painting, gardening fill my days and I am somewhat content.”

I was fortunate to spend an afternoon with Barbie recently. She was in the hospital and on the mend after being very ill. I noticed how much she looked like Grandma Adams. I’d not seen that in her before, and it brought me comfort. We had a wonderful visit - I made her laugh, and she made me cry. It was all good.

I hope she and Debbie and my mom and Grandma are sitting around the table with glasses of iced tea, laughing and chatting and solving the problems of the day. She will be sorely missed down here.

 

Why Was I in Trouble? She Said It Was Okay…

This is the story of two little girls, a screen door, a knitting needle, and fly season on a hog farm a long, long, time ago…

A little over two weeks ago, my cousin Debbie passed away, leaving an ache in the hearts of those who loved her. I take comfort in my memories of our time together when we were kids, growing up like sisters. This is one of my earliest memories of us together.

I think it was the summer I turned four years old, but I may have been five. Aunt Sherry and Uncle Jack had moved their family from Nebraska to a farm near Mahaska, Kansas, and I was delivered there to spend a few weeks. I remember the big house and yard, and also walking a dirt/gravel road to Sunday School at a small country church. Barbie was the eldest child, and in charge of us getting there and back.

Anyway, one afternoon I awoke from my nap and found the house empty and quiet. I wandered around looking for any of the family, and finally found Debbie in the back entryway, sitting at the open door. There was a full screen door – one of the old wooden kind on a spring that creaked when it opened and banged when it closed.

Debbie was sitting on the floor in front of that screen door, methodically punching holes in the screen with a knitting needle. We chatted for a minute, and she invited me to have a try at the hole-poking. I questioned the wisdom of this activity, but Debbie assured me it was okay and lots of fun. I was hesitant because I really didn’t think it was a good idea, but she was confident that it was okay. She was older and she lived there and she was quite convincing, so, I took a stab at it, so to speak.

You know what? It was fun! Poking that needle through the screen and seeing a perfect round hole appear was almost like magic!  I was hooked!Debbie ran and got a second knitting needle and we both sat there together and punched holes to our hearts’ delight.

I have no idea how long we did this, but we were running out of screen on the bottom section of the door when Aunt Sherry came walking up. One look at her face and I knew that this was definitely NOT okay. It was summertime on a hog farm. Fly season. We had just opened up the entire bottom half of the screen door.

Oh, Aunt Sherry was mad.

Debbie got spanked first. I remember telling Aunt Sherry that it wasn’t my fault, that Debbie had told me it was okay, and I really was innocent. Yeah, she didn’t care. I got spanked, too. Then we were sent to Debbie’s room.

My memory of this incident ends there, but I have always proclaimed my innocence. They just laughed at me over the years whenever I reminded them of the injustice of my being held liable along with Debbie for this crime.

Here are the three of us about 40 years later:

I will forever be an accessory to screen-door mutilation.

A Walk Down Memory Lane

This title is almost literally what I did one day a few weeks ago. I walked down memory lane in Harrison Park, and I went back, way back to a time of swimming at the pool, running the trails, and Girl Scout day camp near the creek.

Lots has changed in that park since I was a kid. The pool is gone now and you can’t really even tell it was ever there:

What seemed like an enormous concrete monument to summer didn’t really take up all that much space. I did get a little ache in my stomach when snapping this photo. So much of my childhood was spent here.

The pool isn’t the only thing that is gone – all of the play equipment up by the former pool entrance is gone, too. There is just a concrete walking path and a bike rack now.

Off to the west side of that path you can still see the trails through the trees, though. As children we ran those trails, playing in that little bit of wild forest available in the prairie.

Further down the path we come to the one thing that hasn’t really changed about this park, and that is Beaver Creek. Still nasty.

My brothers used to get in there and fish out the wayward golf balls from the country club golf course just to the west. Then they’d sell them back to the club house. I’m not sure they made enough money to justify the icky water and leeches, but that’s what they did. They also used to catch crawdads and bring them home, asking Mom to make them for supper. Thank goodness Mom always declined!

Down in the bottom of the park there were swings and a merry-go-round. This is where we had Girl Scout day camp each summer, and many a picnic. It’s been renovated now with new play equipment, sand volleyball, and a horseshoes area.

If you look closely at the left side of the photo, you’ll see the old merry-go-round – same one from when we were kids.

Bradley enjoyed coming along with me on my walk down memory lane. He was tired and ready for a nap, but listened to me babble on about what fun that park was for me when I was a child, and how much fun he was going to get to have there – different fun, but we’ll make great memories just the same.

 

Back to the Past

I wanted to make this a weekly topic with a different photo each time, but “life” has gotten in the way lately. Let’s get a fresh start, shall we? :o)

This is perhaps one of my most favorite Adams’ cousins photo ever. I do realize it’s only a portion of the final cousin-count, but I love the colors and the faces and and the old wallpaper and Grandma and Grandpa looking tired. Who knew they still had 15 or so more babies to come into this big, loud, raucous family?

So we’ll start with Grandpa holding Jody and go clockwise. Grandma is holding Tonita and in front of them is me. Then Bart is to my left and Jesse is next to him, grinning. Jeff is in red, Bobby in turquoise (some of you got cowboy clothes for something…). Paula seems to be staring down the camera, and  Barbie closed her eyes. Teresa in red, Debbie in turquoise, and Mike in front of Grandpa. Weren’t we all just the cutest bunch of kids ever?

I have no idea what the occasion was, but since Jesse and Paula, and Bobby and Bart are there, I’m going to guess it’s Thanksgiving and pheasant season?  It looks like we’re having, maybe, potato soup and there’s a plate of leftover turkey in the middle of the table?

I wonder when Grandma got that bright yellow table? She gave it to my mom years later, and Dad still had it when he died. Randy had it in storage at a rental house and unfortunately the tenant ruined it. I regret that I didn’t bring it home and wedge it in here, somewhere.

It was a good, solid table and there were hundreds and hundreds of family meals eaten while sitting at it. Goulash, meatloaf, pot roast, and fried chicken with mashed potatoes. Thousands of bowls of cereal, pancakes, scrambled eggs. Lunch meat sandwiches and potato chips, bowls of soup, bread and butter.  Our entire family sat together every evening at 6 p.m. for supper. No TV, no radio. One of the best rules my parents had, I think.

Our birthdays were celebrated around that table with cake, candles, and ice cream. Usually we had a white or yellow cake baked in a 9x13 pan with chocolate frosting.

Eventually I not only sat there with my family for meals, but also served them  meals I’d prepared. Never a tablecloth or centerpiece or candles. Food was served in the pans they were cooked in, condiment bottles set in the middle. Casual and informal. Pretty much just as you see in the photo.

There are more than food memories associated with the yellow table. We did our  homework there, and played games and paper dolls. I literally covered it with piles of cut-out Christmas cookies one year, polished my fingernails, and folded hundreds of loads of laundry on it. Mom and her friends and sisters gathered ‘round with their babies and “community” glasses of iced tea.

Yes, there are tons of warm, wonderful memories for me associated with that table, but there are also some sad and painful memories. Fights and tears and sorrow. Sitting with family after our brother died. Getting in trouble for various childhood bad decisions. One of the last times I sat at that table was with my brothers to plan our father’s funeral.

I was 16 months-old in that photo, and the last time I sat at that table I was 43.  To me, that table was a symbol of how our family was the most important thing, no matter what else was going on.

Okay, so you see how this post ended up in a totally different direction than it started?  That’s kind of how it works sometimes…

Going Back to the Past

With the imminent arrival of the next generation, I've been thinking a lot about documenting stories about our family, and decided to do part of that on this blog. Every week I'm going to post one or two of the old photos that I have on my computer and talk about what I remember about it. I welcome input from anyone else who remembers when the photo was taken and what was going on at the time. (It's REALLY EASY to comment here, and I know there are many family members reading who probably can add to my stories, so I hope to hear from you!)

Since today is Dad's birthday (he would be 69!) my first photo memory will be from his file... (click on photo to enlarge)

This is from the early 1950's. From left to right we have Aunt Jan, Uncle Eugene, Dad, and Uncle Wendell. Notice their clothes and boots behind the tank on what looks like rolls of fencing by the windmill.

I do not know the story behind this specific photo, but I chose it because I have a personal memory of swimming in the horse tank at Grandma's house.

I am the eldest grandchild on the side of the family, and the only one who remembers "the farm". They moved to town when I was five, so it must've been the summer I turned 4 that I remember spending several days on the farm with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandma was busy all day with household and garden chores, and I remember her letting me play in the horse tank while she worked outside. After we went inside, Grandma had me take a bath, and the best part was that I got to keep my swimsuit on! :o) (My poor mom, I asked for weeks to bathe with my swimsuit on after that.)

Well, after spending time in the horse tank, then time in the tub, my little hands were wrinkled beyond recognition. Grandma was ironing clothes and when I noticed my hands and showed them to her, she offered to iron them for me to smooth them out. Of course I declined, and she assured me that my hands would eventually return to normal without the ironing.

I also remember helping Grandma set the table for supper, and she told me about how, during the Dust Bowl years, she had to set the plates and cups upside down so they didn't get too dirty to eat off of before the food got to the table.

Okay, Jan and Wendell (and Eugene if you still look at my blog), I'd love to hear the story behind this photo. Any details and memories you can add are appreciated!