Dear Mom...

Dear Mom...

I know that you are no longer here on this earth to receive this letter, but I am going to write it anyway.  You see, I find myself talking to you and Dad in my mind every now and then, so I guess a letter isn't all that crazy.

I wonder sometimes if you knew just how much I appreciated everything you did for me.  You lived in a time when mothers rarely worked outside the home.  Keeping a home for your family, seeing that they were fed and clothed and taken care of was your job.  And you did it well.  Much better than I ever could.

I know that I didn't always want to learn the things that you were trying to teach me.  I still can't make a bed with hospital corners and have it look as good as yours.  And the house cleaning thing...I'm not as good at that, either, as you were.  I don't live in squalor, and my apartment is relatively clean, but I just don't like scrubbing and waxing and polishing.  That's not your fault, for you tried.  That's just me.

Some things you taught me though, I learned really well.  I can sew a straight seam and the things I make turn out pretty well.  And when I am sitting at my sewing machine, I think about you and about all the pretty clothes you made for me and my sister over the years.  All those little dresses with white pinafores and the lacy Easter dresses.  I am guessing that you probably wished that I were a bit more girly than I was, for dresses didn't fare too well with baseball and tree climbing, but I want you to know I remember how good I felt when I was wearing such pretty things that you made for me.

I know that I grumbled and whined and complained about having to work so much in the kitchen with you.  I hope you understood that at ten years old, I just didn't understand how hard it was for you, what with your feet and hands swelling so badly and the pain in all the joints of your body.  I am glad now that you made me stay at it and taught me so much.  I am a pretty good cook, and although your gingersnap cookies were better than mine, I make one seriously good apple pie.  Maybe that is because of the summer that you had me fill the freezer with pies.

I wasn't real keen on peeling all those tomatoes from our garden, or canning them all.  Same for the tons of green beans and peas and sweet corn.  But now I am really glad that you had the patience to stick with it, for those skills are helping me make it through these times when everything is so expensive.  I think about you often when I am up to my elbows in Farmer's Market produce and my canner is bubbling away on my stove.

I guess what I am trying to say is that, even though I didn't always show it, I appreciated everything you did for me.  I don't know where I would be now if it hadn't been for your guidance and patience and understanding.

I know that I have told you in the past that I love you, but I am going to say it again, just on the off chance that somehow you will hear me and know it to be true.

I miss you, Mom.  And I love you very much.

Your daughter.

Marjorie Mae Paul Matheny

1924 - 1996

Such a Noise

Last evening I was sitting at my kitchen table working on a crafty project.  In the spring of the year, before the weather gets too hot, I like to keep my front windows open a bit.  Outside my living room window I suddenly heard an awful racket.  I knew that it was a bird, but the chirping sounds he was making were so loud that they startled me.

When the noise continued for a few minutes, I finally went to see what kind of bird was sitting outside my window and to see if I could tell what he was yelling at.  I expected to see something the size of a crow, but there on the corner of the ledge outside the window sat an itty, bitty sparrow, yelling for all he was worth.  He would lean forward and sing like mad, sit back, take a few breaths and do it again.

Finally a little female sparrow joined him on the ledge.  He was quiet for a time and then flew down to a branch in the little tree just outside my windows.  There he sat, yelling loudly again for a minute or two.  The little female finally joined him in the tree and the serenade stopped.

Ah, spring.  Love is in the air, even for sparrows.

And it seems to take very little to amuse me.

I Am Trendy

I had to chuckle a bit the other day when I was at our local bakery.  They have the best 7- grain bread and I treat myself to a loaf every now and again.  The owner, who is just a bit younger than I am and has a similar country life-style background, was telling me about some homemade mango salsa that she had tasted.  When I asked where she had gotten it, she said that one of her neighbors had canned it herself.  I remarked that I was under the impression that I was pretty much the only person around who did home canning any more.  She said that several younger people she knew had started canning.  But she said that it wasn't the kind that we did when we were young.  We did basic vegetables, fruits, jams and pickles.  Whatever it took to get through the long, cold Minnesota winters.  She said these people were into canning gourmet salsas, specialty sauces and watermelon pickles.  But, she said, canning is canning.  She then said that this canning thing seems to be a new trend, so therefore, we must be trendy, too!

Well, what do you know!  After nearly 66 years, I am finally trendy!

It's the Little Things

I don't very often get down in the dumps.  I suppose if I took the time to dwell on all the unpleasant things that have happened over this lifetime, I could work up a pretty bad case of the blues.  I choose not to.  Those things are gone.  I remind myself from time to time to "Look Forward."

This has not always been the case.  There have been times when I have let past hurts and disappointments overwhelm my thoughts.  This was brought home to me a while back when one of my children told me that all I ever did was say negative things about my ex-husband, her father.  That hurt me so much that I started to cry.  Not because of what was said, but because of the fact that she was right.  And I hadn't realized it until it was pointed out to me.  And I felt awful about hurting my children with my negativity.

From that day forward I made up my mind to do my best to banish that kind of negativity from my life.  I don't always succeed, but I do try my best.  And it has helped my whole outlook on life.

There are still unpleasant things to deal with.  There always will be.  But I think that the trick is to deal with them and then move on.  I am finding more and more that it is the little things in life that make me the happiest.

An excited phone call from my granddaughters telling me all about their latest dance competition.  That makes me happy.

Spending a few days making a surprise gift for my grandson who graduates this year makes me happy.

Looking at a huge bouquet of lilacs on my kitchen table, picked from a neighbors lilac bush, makes me happy.

Watching Jessie Jane and Lily do their twirling, whirling Yorkie Dance Team dance in anticipation of a treat makes me laugh out loud.

Sharing a couple of jars of homemade jam with a neighbor who was delighted to receive them because they reminded her of her days on the farm, makes me very happy.

Looking through my old photos makes me happy.  Sometimes I feel sad, knowing that so many of the people I have loved are no longer here, but the good memories of when we were together overshadows the sadness.

I am not a Pollyanna or a Little Miss Sunshine type of person.  Nor do I bury my head in the sand and pretend that everything is all love and sunshine.  I am realistic enough to know that there are bad things and bad people out there.  I know that the economy could go down the tubes in a heart beat.  I know that the damaged nuclear plant in Japan could collapse in another earthquake, doing horrible damage to the entire world.  I know that going outside my own door at night these days is not the wisest thing to do in my neighborhood.  I know that politicians wouldn't know the truth if it bit them in the butt.

I can't change any of these things.  I can only change my attitude.  I can be aware, but not allow the negativity and the bad stuff to keep me from being a happy person.  So I find joy in the little things.  The last time I talked to my brother, he said that I sounded happier than I had in many years.  I think I will continue to look for the little things to make me smile.  It seems to be working.

Just Ain't the Same

I love the Dollar Store.  You have to watch what you buy, for lots of the merchandise is junk.  But now and then I find really good deals.  Coffee is one of them.  As I go through coffee by the gallon and because I am not a coffee snob, (If it looks like coffee and smells like coffee and sort of tastes like coffee, I'm happy.) I buy my coffee at the Dollar Store.  Food for my pets is cheaper there as well as some other things I use on a regular basis.

So a few weeks ago I was browsing the shelves at my local Dollar Store and saw some canned ham.  My Dad used to buy a canned ham once in a while when I was a kid.  It was good.  He would slice it up and fry it to go with pancakes and eggs or for sandwiches.  So I bought one.  Nice to have on the shelf if I had a craving for ham.

Today I decided to have ham and eggs for breakfast.  I opened the ham.  Didn't really look like the canned ham I remembered.  Popped it out of the tin.  Didn't smell like I remembered, either.  Started to slice it.  It was sort of like trying to slice canned Alpo.  So rather than waste it, I decided to try to make sandwich spread out of it.  I mushed it up, added some onion, pepper, a little sweet relish and mayo.  Mixed the whole works up.  Slathered on a slice of bread.  Took a bite.

Dollar Store canned ham makes Spam look like fillet mignon.  My Yorkie, Jessie Jane, is the consummate trash hound.  Can't leave anything even vaguely resembling edible within her reach.  She can tunnel into a trash bag filled with garbage waiting to go out to the dumpster, quicker than you can blink.  Good thing she is short or nothing on the table or kitchen counters would be safe.  I dropped a little chunk of the meat (if that's what it was, minus the mayo, etc.) on the floor for her.  She wouldn't touch the stuff.  This is the same dog who would dine from the kitty litter box, given the opportunity!

I guess I should have known better, but the memories of that canned ham meal my Dad would make were still strong, and hope does spring eternal.  But sometimes hopes are dashed.  It just ain't the same.

Grandmas Get To Brag

It says so.....right there in the contract.  "When you are a Grandma, you get to brag."  Now when you are just a parent, it is OK to brag just a little bit.  After all, when your kids do something awesome, they should be recognized for it.  But when you become a grandparent, you can pull out all the stops.  You get to tell anybody who will stop long enough to listen just how marvelous your grandchildren are.  It is such fun...probably one of the most fun things about being Grandma.  That, and the part where we get to enjoy our grandchildren without the responsibility of disciplining them.  I really like this Grandma thing.

Now, on to the bragging part.

This week I have not one.....not two.....but three (count them.....three) grandchildren that I get to brag about.

The first one I get to brag about is Zach.  Now, I ask you.  How many eleven year old boys do you know who take their mothers for an airplane ride.  As the pilot!

Zachs Mom emailed me these photos last evening.  Pretty darned cool.  I am so impressed by this boy's abilities.  I just can't imagine what it must be like to fly a plane, much less at his age.  When I was eleven, the training wheels hadn't been off my bike that long.  His Mom says that he does an excellent job doing what his instructor tells him to do.  He does everything himself, including landing.  Below are some photos that Jill took during the flight.

Valter's Aviation from the air.

He went above the clouds!

View from plane.

Marina in Stillwater.

Flying over St. Paul.

St. Paul.

Jill says that Zach wasn't thrilled with the Foshay Tower Observation Deck, but altitude while flying doesn't bother him at all.  I can relate.  I get a little bit shaky just climbing on a kitchen stool to reach something in the top cupboard.  But I love to fly and have no fear of heights while in a plane.

Which is something you need to keep in mind, Zach, when you get your pilot's license.  Your Grandma really does love to fly.  Hint!

Now on to the second part of this Grandma brag-a-thon.


Over this past weekend my granddaughters, Boston and Maddie, took part in their first dance competition of the year called "Talent on Parade" at the Minneapolis Convention Center.  Their Dad tells me that there were between fifteen and twenty teams competing.  In addition to the regular team competition, both girls performed in special dances, Boston as a solo and Maddie with three or four other girls.

Boston's solo dance involved using the bench that her Dad made as a prop.  I haven't seen them dance yet this year, but I am told that she dances on top of the bench and does a cartwheel off from it.

Both Boston and Maddie won First Place Trophys for their special dances.  This is above and beyond all the practice time they put in for the three dances performed with the dance team.  I am so proud of these girls.  They both love to dance and they both work so hard.  David tells me that both are taking extra lessons at the dance studio to improve their performances, although I think it may be hard to improve on First Place trophys!  Congratulations, girls.  You have earned every bit of the pride this Grandma has in your accomplishments.

Boston and Maddie's team went on to win first place in their Jazz dance and second place over all.  You done good!

When David called to tell me that they were on their way to the competition, I asked him if he had plenty of Kleenix with him, as he says he has a tendency to tear up while watching his daughters dance.  I can relate.  My heart is full watching them on stage.

Yep.  Grandma bragging rights.  I am so very proud of all of you!

A Sad Day

Today I received one of those phone calls that nobody likes to get.  My brother-in-law called to let me know that his Mother had died.  I knew that she had been in the hospital with pneumonia and that she had been put on a ventilator.  It had been nearly a week since she was admitted and I had hoped that no news was indeed good news, but it was not to be.  The decision to take her off the ventilator was made yesterday and she passed peacefully early this afternoon.

She had been my mother-in-law for the 20 years I was married to her son.  After Mike died, she stayed in touch and although it was difficult for us to get together, we talked by phone often.  She told me all about her great-grandchildren, who were the light of her life, and always asked about my family and laughed at the stories I told her about the things my grandchildren had done.  She always ended each conversation by telling me that she loved me.

I am so very glad that the last words I said to her were "I love you."

Rest in peace, Peg.  I will miss you.