The View from Here

New Year...New Me

 

                I’m ending this year sixty pounds lighter. I’m not going to post photos or recommend a “diet”. I’m not going to give you advice about how you, too, can lose weight. I’m just going to tell you that my success is the result of my sincere desire to be healthier.

            In the past I’ve dieted because I wanted to look better. The problem with that motive is that I really don’t care that much about how I look. Since I turned fifty or so, I’ve been less concerned about clothes and makeup and jewelry. My concerns have been more about what I can do, see, and experience. I suppose that attitude evolved because of a decrease in my mobility and an increase in my health problems. 

            This past summer, a trip to our local ER and some disturbing lab tests prompted my doctor to tell me, “You’re too smart to stay fat.” I can’t tell you exactly what that triggered in my brain, but I agreed with him and was determined to prove it.

            Since that day in his office, I have eliminated some foods, changed the way I prepare others, and drastically reduced the portions I eat. It’s not rocket science. We all know in our hearts what is really good for us…and what is not. I like to say that the adult in my body eats like she should. The child in my body needs control and some reprimanding now and then!

             My goal going forward is to lose more. How much? I don’t know. I guess I’ll just wait and see…

Patience

Growing flowers in the house, in the winter, is an exercise in patience, but worth the watering and waiting. 

What is a Picture Worth?

 

We’ve all heard the adage “a picture is worth a thousand words”. The saying was first used in advertising in the twenties, but even now the wisdom of it is a powerful reminder that art and photography often evoke much more emotion and tell more of a story than anything we can write or say.

I experienced that truth this week when I pulled this photo out of a box of photos recently given to me by my brother. You may recall that I lived a very transient life as a child. My father changed jobs a lot. We moved to work in the fields. We moved to find cheaper housing. We moved for better opportunities. We moved…

It isn’t surprising that my brain has no memory of some houses, and I can only conjure up brief glimpses of others. However, I learned from seeing this photo that sometimes our memory just needs the right key to unlock its secrets.

When I was ten years old my father and uncle worked on a dam project in Georgetown, Texas. We lived in a four-plex and my brothers played “Army” in a lot behind us. Dad took us out to the job site a few times, usually to see large dens of rattlesnakes they had uncovered and destroyed. My aunt and uncle lived in a house nearby.

One of our neighbors was a child my age, but smarter than I ever thought about being. He was already in high school. My brain isn’t sure, but I believe he may have lived with his grandfather. I don’t recall there being a woman in the home. I do remember that green roses grew by their steps, most of one room inside was devoted to a collection of National Geographics, and I was allowed to visit, so my mom must have considered the man to be a good person. The boy, whose name I can’t recall, tried in vain to teach me to play chess. We did have some long discussions about some of the places featured in the magazine. We longed to visit Australia and Africa.

The neighbors directly next to us consisted of a husband and wife and baby boy about nine months old. I remember that she cooked some foods I’d never heard about. (They were from some European country.) She made huge batches of apple strudel that she rolled out on their metal kitchen table. I can almost taste those delicious treats even now! She needed to go shopping one afternoon and asked my mom if she thought I was old enough for the responsibility of staying with her son. Mom assured her that I’d had lots of practice with my brothers and that she would also be available if I needed help. I remember feeling a little nervous, but everything went well.

I don’t remember who lived in the third apartment. Perhaps some single person without children or someone not interested in the neighbors.

Other memories and events of that time come to mind as I look at this photo. It tells the story of year in my life. That makes it priceless!

Merry Christmas!

Hope you have a happy and healthy day. 

Surprise...

One of my brothers surprised me Monday with a box of photos that has been in his storage unit for five years. He hadn’t placed the photos in it, just received it as a sealed box, along with several others, and hadn’t looked inside until he recently began emptying the unit. I never knew it existed. Since I had previously received family photos after the deaths of my grandmother, mother, and dad, I had no reason to wonder about any others. I quickly sorted through the box and was stunned by some of the images. Some are just different versions of prints I already have. However, there are some that I’ve never seen, and I don’t remember the occasion when they were taken. There are also a dozen or more prints from years before I was born.

Two things are a mystery to me:

How did anyone in our poor family afford a camera?

How in the world did a family that moved so often manage to keep this many photos?

I’m so thankful for this gift and will share more photos as I scan and edit them.

 

Christmas 1978

One of the best places we ever lived was Lone Pine, CA. Although our financial/employment situation didn’t work out and we moved on to Grove, OK, we all have fond memories of Lone Pine and still keep in touch with a few friends who lived there. Each day felt like an adventure in the little desert community, and we learned a lot about our strengths and weaknesses. My grandmother and aunt visited us for Christmas. It was a five-hour trip for them and we were thrilled to have them visit. They had to stay in a local motel because we lived in a tiny house that had once been a garage.

Sunday, December 24, 1978

Gran went to class with us and Betty drove around. Betty came back for church. We had a light lunch and then went driving. Betty is painting again so she took lots of pictures. We also collected dried flowers and grasses.

Had our Christmas dinner tonight- ham, roast, yams, salad, rolls, peas, apple pie. I’m stuffed! Everyone went to bed early except us. We stayed up ‘til 11:30. Jean came by and brought gifts for the kids.

Christmas Day, 1978

The girls woke up at 5:30. I made them stay in bed until 6:30. Then I made coffee and let them open a couple of presents. Robert got up at 7:00. Betty came over at 7:45. This has been one our best Christmases ever. I can’t help thinking how different this Christmas has been from past ones. We didn’t have to borrow money for presents. Everything was less hectic. We really have so much to be thankful for this year.

Betty and Gran left at noon. I called Mom and we talked for a while. Went to bed at 9:30, exhausted.

Games...

I found this photo of mom yesterday. She's teaching her young grandson to play marbles. 

This photo is my brother playing marbles around 1963-64.

This one is me at school, playing hopscotch. 

This one is me, with a friend in 1976, showing my daughters how to play jacks.

Good times. Good memories. 

Presents Under the Tree

For the past few years, I’ve faced the same challenge each December. Gary asks me what I want for Christmas and I can’t decide what to tell him. We’ve been together fifty years so he no longer attempts to surprise me. We’ve downsized and simplified our lives to the point that there really isn’t much I need or want that I don’t already have. And this year, when so many people are doing without the basics of life, it seems selfish to sit here in a warm home with food in the pantry, and ask for anything more.

                Of course, that wasn’t always my attitude. I’ve spent some time this morning reading Santa letters from 1913 and I remember feeling like this young man:

                Dear Santa,

                I am a little boy 11 years old and been studying my books so hard that I think you might remember me this year. I want a pocket book, a French harp, candy, apples, nuts, fire crackers, a pistol, and some books to read. Darl Pearce

 

                Each year I studied hard, tried to be the best I could be, worked in the fields alongside my parents, and hoped to be amply rewarded. I even tried to be nicer to my brothers and not argue with the other children at school.

                I don’t recall writing letters to Santa, but I’m sure I must have. And I’m sure that some years I was disappointed. However, a few years stand out in my memory as the “best Christmas ever”.  The one that always tops the list is the year my grandfather made a little kitchen for me. One year my parents bought me a record player and the man who filled the juke box at my grandmother’s café either sold or donated a large stack of 45s to Dad. I was thrilled to be able to play my favorite songs and sing along with them! Another year I received a little doll house that I wanted. One year there were colored pencils and paints and fancy paper under the tree. When I was twelve, I received a red skirt, white sweater, and red cardigan. I felt so grown up!

                It’s interesting though, to think about all the presents I do NOT recall. I can’t tell you what I got when I was fifteen or twenty. I can’t even tell you what I received ten years ago. What I clearly remember is feeling loved and blessed that someone took the time to make or buy a present in order to make my life happier or easier.

                I do this each year- think about past Christmas holidays and compare them to the current one. I’m sure you do the same. And what I’ve realized for the past twenty years is that my most vivid memories are of gatherings with friends and loved ones- dinners, parties, church musicals, parades, school programs, and charity events. Perhaps that’s the true challenge of this year, for me and for everyone else. A present under the tree will be appreciated, but being present with loved ones may become a lovely memory or a lifelong regret. I pray that each of us makes wise decisions in the next ten days.

Grin and Bear It...

I was looking for something to post on my family blog when I came across this untitled poem written by my grandmother in 1939:

Untitled

If everything goes suddenly wrong,

Grin and bear it.

If life gives you the gong,

Grin and bear it.

Tho the bugs eat up your crop,

And farm prices do a flop,

Endless trouble seems your lot,

Grin and bear it.

If fate deals you a crooked hand,

Grin and bear it.

One that’s hard to understand,

Grin and bear it.

For every cloud there’s bright sunlight,

Day has always followed night,

Things most always come out right,

Grin and bear it.

Della Springer

I’ve mentioned before that I was blessed as a child to be surrounded by strong women, and certainly the two strongest were my grandmothers, Beatrice Simmons and Della Springer. Each had experienced pain and sorrow and hardship, and each had learned to deal with those experiences without wallowing in self-pity. Each of them was kind, hard-working and positive. Each provided a role model of strength and faith.

This poem perfectly describes the way my grandmothers lived their lives. Grin and bear it doesn’t imply just accepting the hand of fate. My memory of discussions with Della tells me it means that you can smile, be positive, figure out a solution to your problem, and go forward despite your current challenge. You can’t change the fact that the bugs ate up your crop…but you can certainly decide if you want to fight them and continue farming, or simply give up. My grandmothers were fighters.

Four Legs

We went to Hagerman yesterday and were surprised to see a herd of deer. 

Then this morning the llamas were grazing with the cattle in the back pasture. 

I love being outside! I just never know what I'll see next.