Raising Charley, Part V (?)

We were on our last camping weekend of the year, enjoying each others company and the peace of a weekend away. Friends drove the half hour to meet us for a nice dinner and a great evening out together in the little town where we were camping.

We walked the three blocks back from the restaurant to the campsite, all of us stuffed to the gills. Lots of chatter. Lots of laughter.

As we neared the RV, I saw movement at the lighted window over the kitchen sink. Puzzled at first, I finally realized it was Charley standing up on the kitchen counter!  "Lovely," I thought to myself as I hurried toward the RV, "another scolding for Charley." At the door, we found water steadily dripping out from underneath. And I could hear more water streaming from somewhere underneath the RV itself.

Upon opening the door, a cascade of water poured out, with more still coming. I stood motionless, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing. How could there be a flood in the camper? We hadn't left anything on. Had a hose or fitting broken open somewhere? What on earth happened here?

Number 7, bless his teenage soul, leapt into action, grabbing the rubber broom and using it to push water out the door. Tim went one way and another, trying desperately to find the source of the flood. And all the while the water continued flowing out of every sink, out of the shower, and out of the toilet (don't worry -- the black water tank was still sealed off).

Finally Tim grabbed the cap on the gray water tank (shower and sink drainage) and opened it. Gallons more water flowed out of that hose than could possibly have gone into the tank in the 24 hours we'd been there.

But we remained puzzled. And frazzled. Still we could not find any breaks in the water lines. But what else could have caused the flooding?

Then I remembered that Charley had been up on the kitchen counter when we came home.

And it dawned on me that Charley had to be the source of our problem. Sometime during the evening the dog got up on the counter and managed to flip the kitchen faucet handle from the off to the on position. Water poured down the kitchen sink drain into the gray water tank. And the rest is history.

He weighs 80 pounds. He stands at least three feet tall while still on all fours. He's nosy and slobbery. He's thick as a plank. His tail is lethal. He can ruin your slacks in one second flat with his humongous wet nose. He means absolutely no harm at all and he's a teddy bear inside and out.

Charley is a force of nature.

We're still cleaning up.

- Catherine

Hodgepodge Wednesday

1. Have you ever been 'asked' to report for jury duty? Were you chosen to serve? If not, were you happy or disappointed? Twice in my life I have been notified of jury duty. The first time I was a young mother and they were still allowing that as an exemption from duty, so I didn't have to serve. The second time, my employer wrote a letter asking them to postpone the duty because it would fall during the annual summer conference that I run -- the county exempted me and never asked again.  The first time, I really didn't want to serve. The second time, I'd have been happy to come back and serve in the Fall if they had asked me.

2. On a scale of 1-10 (with 10 being very), how mechanically inclined are you? Give an example to back up your answer. I believe I've never come to my full mechanical potential because my husband takes care of all of that for me. Thus, in my underdeveloped state of unrecognized potential, I'd say I'm a 2 on a scale of 1-10. I can use a screwdriver effectively.

3. Beets-cabbage-cauliflower-butternut squash....of the four, which is your favorite fall vegetable? BUTTERNUT SQUASH!  Ahem. Pardon my shouting. I really (really) like butternut squash, followed by cauliflower and then cabbage. Beets not so much.

4. What do you recommend to overcome self-pity? First, prayer. Follow that with service to someone else along with a healthy dose of uplifting/fun music.

5. Do you enjoy classical music? Yes. I took my Aunt to the symphony a couple of weeks ago and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We do have a classical station on the local radio scene, however I don't listen to classical on a regular basis -- I prefer popular music most of the time.

6. October is National Book Month...what's on your reading list this month? Mrs. Dunwoody's Excellent Instructions for Homekeeping (I've just started that one). I also have The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff lined up, as well as Patchwork: A Story of 'The Plain People.' I just finished an excellent book entitled Annie's Ghost: A Journey into a Family Secret, by Steve Luxenberg.  This is a fascinating true story that is part family history research, part coming to grips with family secrets, and part redemption of a young woman put aside and forgotten in the early years of the 20th century.

7. What is your idea of 'cute'? Something that is pleasing to the eye at the same time that it evokes a cozy feeling in your heart. How's that? No one has ever asked me to define "cute" before!

8. Insert your own random thought here. Randomly speaking, Charley-o is a year old now and remains as much a puppy as ever. Unfortunately all that puppy-ness is bound up in an 80 pound body that stands three feet tall when he's on all fours.  Life with Charley is never dull, that's for sure.

 


- Catherine

Well, here we are again!

I have a blog! Good heavens, yes I do!

Greetings from our annual last-camping-trip-of-the-season. It's partly cloudy, as usual. It's cold, as usual. And we are happily squirelled away in our cozy camper on this October weekend. As usual.

Okay, we had some electrical malfunctions when we first set up last night, resulting in a VERY cold camper this morning because the heat had gone off. But we finally found the problem and got it fixed. So life is good again. A big thank you to the guys who work at the service garage next door to the campground -- they provided us with replacements for the fuses that were blown.

The "gladiator games" have been going on all day. That's what I call the play between Hank Williams Jr. and Charley -- gladiator games. Teeth are bared but tails are wagging. They clash chests together, then one grabs the other with his teeth, there is snarling, and then they break apart and it starts all over again with another chest clashing. Tails still wagging. They've wandered all over the campground today, taking their gladiator games with them. I hope they sleep like logs tonight!

I've happily spent most of the day indoors, working on some of the finer details of my family history research (it takes time to search through the 1910 census schedule for the entire city of Newark, NJ!).

The guys have been to the mineral hot pools in town. I like the pools, but my hot flashes don't, so I've avoided soaking this year. Sigh. Soaking IS really relaxing, but the horrible hot flashes aren't worth it to me at this point in my life. Terrible to get old!

Instead, I kept the dogs company and allowed them a few more bouts of gladiator games outside.

Life has been crazy lately, and having this weekend completely off is lovely. What with trying to take care of my family, trying to spend time with my aunt and take care of her financial affairs, trying to get back into racquetball, and trying to work 40 hours a week at my job, I am completely tapped out. I might sit down at 8:00 at night and watch something I've recorded on the DVR, but more likely I'm heading to the bedroom and a good book before turning out the light.

Crazy.

But God has brought me to this moment. And here I am, somehow surviving.

In all the hulaballu, I have managed to put up some 25 pints of peach jam and 24 quarts of frozen corn off the cob. We still have apples on our trees out back and, although most are wormy because we didn't spray properly, there are enough for me to put up some apple sauce or apple butter. Just hope I have the time to get to it.

Last weekend I sold one of the horses and purchased another -- one that will be more suitable for me to ride. Since then, the weather has been awful, so I haven't had the opportunity to try her out yet. I have played a bit with her in the pasture though, and her temperament seems quite lovely. Looking forward to this new baby in our herd!

Think that's the brief catch-up.

Hope you too are enjoying your weekend!

- Catherine

Grave matters

I finally fulfilled a longtime dream of visiting a particular cemetery in Newark, New Jersey.

Before you think I am off my rocker, recall that I love family history and have done extensive research on both my father's side and my mother's side. (If you don't recall that, then please take it on faith -- I do and I have.) Cemeteries are a significant source of family history.

For many years I have wanted to visit the family graves in Fairmount Cemetery. Unfortunately, it isn't the safest place in the world. The Central Ave. side of the cemetery is pretty much okay, as is Central Ave. itself. But the South Orange Ave. side of the cemetery is, apparently, a thief's paradise. As is South Orange Ave. itself at that end of the city. And, of course, it was the South Orange Ave. side of the cemetery that I was going to be needing.  So today I finally had the opportunity -- after some 20 years of waiting -- to drive up there, get a staff escort, and take photographs of the family graves.

I die happy.

Well, that's an exaggeration, but it really has helped my research by confirming many facts and giving me a couple new clues.

All but one of the graves were on my mother's side of the family.

This is the grave of my great-great grandmother.

See the birth year of 1840? Ha! 1833 is more like it. Mary Ann made herself younger by a few years with each census that was taken -- she claimed to be 78 years old in the 1920 census. By the time she died, her children weren't sure what year she'd been born. So they made a guess.

Wrong.

In reality, she was 90 when she died. I have other documentation to prove it.

There is one lone grave at Fairmount that is from my dad's side of my family -- he was my great-great grandfather and he is buried in the Soldiers' Plot (row on row of government-issued headstones).

He was a Civil War veteran who served for three years, coming home from the War in 1864 to find his wife had died some eight months earlier, leaving their young son motherless. Within 10 years, he married a second time and fathered two children in that relationship, but the marriage ended in divorce and those children were lost to the family after that.

Wounded four times during the war and plagued with dysentery, he apparently became an alcoholic. His wounds, of course, went with him for the rest of his life, along with kidney disease and heart trouble. He bounced in and out of the NJ Veteran's home three times in the first decade of the 1900s, finally passing away in January of 1910 at the Little Sisters of the Poor charity home in Newark. The U.S. Government buried him.

It's a sad tale, but when I talked about this man's checkered existence with the historian at the cemetery, he was not at all surprised at how things had turned out. The 54th Ohio fought at Shiloh, at Gettysburg and at other incredibly bloody battles. That my great-great grandfather lived through it all is a miracle in itself.

They misspelled his last name on the headstone, although it is spelled correctly in the burial records held by the cemetery association. No dates, but that's okay -- I already know them.

I feel sorry for this man. I wonder what kind of temperament he had naturally and how it was changed by his experiences in the Civil War (did I mention that he was also captured at one point and then escaped about two weeks later?)  I think about how his son, my great-grandfather, must have wondered about his father. It seems, from the documentation that I've seen, that theirs was never a close relationship. I feel bad about that too -- my great-grandfather lost his mother when he was less than three years old and then grew up with a father who retained terrible injuries and problems from his service to our country.

Despite the desolate childhood that he endured, my great-grandfather was remembered fondly by his grandchildren (my father among them), so he must have been one of those people who could "re-write the script," as it were.  Good for him!

I love a cemetery on a beautiful, Fall day -- especially when there are family history treasures to be discovered.

- Catherine

Ten Years Later

My post for 9/11 was about my experience of that day in 2001.

Now let me tell you about my experience of that day 10 years later, for it is a tale worth telling.

Our pastor started our church service this morning with a few words of remembrance, etc. Out of the blue -- to me -- he asked my Tim to pray for our armed forces. Right after that, the music team (including me) got up to lead worship.

About the second of the four songs, I noticed that Number 7's face -- down in the congregation -- was red and it looked as though he was upset. During the music, I glanced over a time or two, saw him leave the room and come back again, and saw his father cradle our boy's head in his shoulder. Somehow, though, I wasn't losing my focus (thank you, God!). But I was somewhat concerned.

In the fourth song, I suddenly saw Tim and Number 7 walking up toward us at the front of the room. Tim motioned me to stop. Musician that I am, I made him wait until I'd finished the line we were on, and then we all came to a halt. I watched, not alarmed, but wondering.

Number 7 turned toward me and my concern was all for him at that moment. I hugged him hard and then listened in utter amazement as my strong, stoic husband announced, in a voice cracked with emotion, that our second son had just touched down on American soil after a year of deployment in Iraq.

And then we all sobbed. And cheered. And our wonderful church family sobbed and cheered along with us.

During the sermon, the pastor let us in on an important God-moment of the day -- he usually asks our sound-guy (my beloved Sammy) to pray for the armed forces whenever that is appropriate or desired as something special in our church service. This morning, our pastor felt that Sammy was not the right choice for today, and when he (our pastor) walked past Tim in the outer room, he felt God saying, "That's the one." So he asked Tim. And just about the time Tim sat down after praying, he received the text from our son that he was on U.S. soil.

We all shed tears of great happiness on a day of such sad remembrance. The irony was not lost on us -- our boy came home safe and alive on a day when so many lost their lives in the years since 9/1/2001.

We do not forget those who will never come home again. But today we are grinning from ear to ear and we are so very, very grateful for God's mercy.
 
- Catherine

Where were you?

It is hard to relive the day of September 11, 2001. I, in fact, am avoiding most of the commemorative shows and events. Not because I am not moved or touched, but because sometimes you have to guard your heart.

That said, I well remember where I was and what was happening around me that day. We lived in Central New Jersey at the time - within commuting distance of NYC. Many of my daughter's friends had parents working in the city on a daily basis.

When my secretary told me about the first plane, I assumed it was a little Cessna that had gone astray. When she told me about the second plane, I looked up and said, "We're under attack!" Both of us tried to get details - she from NPR and me from the internet. To my frustration, my reliable standby website for breaking news, CNN, had already crashed from the overwhelming internet traffic. Ditto for the New York Times. Eventually I found that Princeton University had made the CNN satellite feed available on its website, and I sat transfixed with horror as the plane crashes were replayed and as the Twin Towers fell again and again and again.

My employer sent us home early, which was just as well since I had a very distressed teenage daughter waiting for me. The father of one of her dearest friends worked in Manhattan. He hadn't been heard from and there was good reason to be worried - his office was across the street from the WTC. Thankfully, it turned out that he was safe and had been making his way home all day. He walked in the door that evening, having been unable to get through with his cell phone due to the overloaded circuits.

One of my co-workers was not as fortunate. Her husband worked for an IT company that sent him to various venues each week. September 11 was his day to work at the WTC, and, sadly, he lost his life in the tragedy.

Word came round that our church would be open for prayer that evening. Many of us sat in the silence for a long time, tears streaming down our faces.

A surreal and horrifying day for all of us. As the stories of bravery rolled in, I marveled at the nobler side of humanity. I still do, and I hope it does not take another national tragedy to bring that side to the fore once again.

Where were you?

- Catherine

Hodgepodge Wednesday

1. What is one piece of advice you would give a 'just turning' 21- year old adult?

Don't be an idiot.

2. Besides cooler weather (or warmer weather, depending on your hemisphere) what is one thing you are looking forward to this fall?

NFL football on Sunday afternoons, cozily ensconced in the TV room with my two best guys (and two best dogs).

3. What sound lulls you to sleep? 

 

A fan can lull me to sleep, and that's about the only sound I can tolerate.  Any other sound will likely keep me awake.

4. September is National Preparedness Month...does your family have an emergency 'kit' and/or disaster plan in place? 

 

Prayer is our only disaster plan. We live in an area of the country where the dominant religion emphasizes preparedness, so there are lots of resources at my fingertips. But we still don't have a plan.

5. How has your blog changed since you started blogging? Or has it? 

 

I don't think it has changed because it's never been about just one thing.

6. What's something you've recently learned to do on the computer?

 

Ummm ....  I don't know. My skills improve whenever something new comes out, but I've no idea what has been recent.

7. Is a picture worth a thousand words? Elaborate.

Yes and no. (Nothing is black and white with me!) Yes, a picture can convey a deeper and clearer sense of a situation, that's for sure. But pictures without words can be very misleading, even damaging. And words well put together can create an amazing picture in the imagination of the reader -- which can be better than a photograph.

8. Insert your own random here. Randomly speaking, I despair of the current political situation. I decry the polarization of our country. And like Rep. Jim Cooper, I think that those politicians who continually and blindly put their own partisan gain before the good of our country are bordering on treasonous activity.

I hate ending on a downer, so let me also say this -- I'm glad God is sovereign over all, and that's pretty much the only sanity in my world.

Thanks Joyce, for another set of thought-provoking questions. If you, dear reader, wish to play along, skip on over to Joyce's blog and link up your own answers there.


- Catherine

The Can Can

Today I made... and canned... both peach jam and peach butter.

What is WRONG with me???  I spent the ENTIRE day at it!

And I loved every minute of it.

And I can barely move tonight.

I must be channeling my mother. And my grandmother. And every single one of my great aunts - Ethel, Ann, Gert, Mabel, and Bert. Plus numerous cousins.

I come from a long line of canners.

We all can can!

I haven't canned anything since, like, 1980, for cryin' out loud.

So, I'm not sure the peach butter is the right consistency. But if not, it will make for a nice peach topping on pancakes or ice cream. I'm philosophical that way. It will also make for a great glaze on a pork loin.

I must admit I am really, really enjoying the sight of the little golden jars, and am looking forward to stocking them in my pantry downstairs. Some cold winter day I will walk down there and return with a jar of golden sunshine.

With a big label that says "I made this!!!"

Just kidding.

But I do have enough to give as Christmas gifts.

And that is a mighty fine thing.

Oh, and the leftovers that could't be preserved? Toast this week!!! Does it get any better?

-Catherine

A favorite clip

Just the other day I got to thinking about the very funny show "I Love Lucy" and I wondered if my favorite scene was on Youtube.

Because everything is on Youtube, right?

Right!

The picture quality isn't very good, but the scene remains hilarious. It's about 4 1/2 minutes long -- well worth it to see the end!



 Have a great weekend!

- Catherine

Various and Sundry Things

"Various and sundry" is a phrase my mother always used instead of "random," but they amount to the same thing. So, here are my various and sundry thoughts for the day.

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I meant to play racquetball yesterday. Instead I bought a car. No, those two activities are not in any way related. It's just that the Explorer has had its day and I've been wanting to get something smaller for running around town. Enter the black VW Jetta with the manual transmission. I love driving this car! (I'm one of those people who really enjoys driving a stick, even in town.)

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There are two family things I get to do this week!

One is to see our newest grandbaby, who was born on my birthday back in June.

The second is to visit Number 6 at his new home. Hard to believe he has his own place now!

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Our Charley-monster got hit by a car last weekend but his mangled back paw is on the mend (at least, I hope it is mending underneath that huge bandage!). He is walking better and even running now and then, and the xrays showed no damage to the hips or legs -- just the paws. God is good. As much as Charley has been a handful to raise (he's 10 months old now), he has wormed his way into our hearts.

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My Aunt Muriel fell this past weekend and wrenched her knee. I took her to the doctor for xrays, and there were no fractures to be seen, thank goodness.  But she'll be in a soft brace for a little while and she is frustrated by the whole situation. She worries about being a burden to me, although I've assured her over and over again that she is not. I've stepped up my schedule of stopping in to see her so that we can have a walk together (she's supposed to be up and around on the leg, not just sitting) and so that she doesn't feel depressed and cooped up. Yesterday I made Jersey-style sub sandwiches and took a picnic lunch up to her apartment at the assisted living facility. We had a great time and the subs were a nice reminder of the place that we both call home. Afterwards we took a walk outside in the breezy sunshine, enjoying the view from the hillside where she lives. I'm loving every precious minute that I have with her on this earth.

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- Catherine

Hodgepodge Wednesday

Another edition of the weekly meme. Thanks once again to Joyce for putting this together!

1. Do you think the world became a more dangerous place on September 11, 2001 or did we just become more aware of the danger? How has your own life changed as a result of that day? I think the danger has been there all along and that we are just more aware. The consequence of Sept 11 is that flying in a commercial airliner has become cumbersome to the traveler. I can't travel with only carry-on luggage because my shampoo and hair products will always exceed the 3 oz. requirement for liquids. And I hate the intrusiveness of the security processes that are now in place. Moreover, I've learned that the machines go out of date very quickly and have to be replaced with whatever is the latest and greatest technology -- can we say "waste of taxpayer money?" (Does anyone still go through those elaborate puffer booths? I think not...)

2. Did you think your parents were too strict when you were growing up? How about in hindsight? Didn't most of us think our parents were too strict while we were being raised? I certainly did. In hindsight, I'd say their ideas about raising kids were correct but they really failed in the communication department. "Because I said so" is something that we heard more than once a day in our house. My parents should have taken the time to explain things to us in a little more depth, rather than taking the easy way (for them).

3. Share one random but candid fact about yourself. Randomly and candidly, I agonize over my hair way too much. It is curly and dry, and the water here in the West is aggressively hard. It's very easy for me to have a bad hair day, believe me. I hate piling on the products (at least three), but there doesn't seem to be any other way to make it satisfactory to my eyes.

4. Would your nearest and dearest describe you as simple or far too complicated? Far too complicated, I'm sure. I can be very mercurial. In some things I am very laid back and in others (probably rather random) I am very inflexible. Also, when I'm upset, I tend to become very agitated and loud for a brief time (I'm working on it!).

5. What is your favorite stadium or carnival food? Hmmmm .... there are so many at our annual State Fair that it's hard to choose just one. I love bacon dipped in dark chocolate, I love funnel cakes, I love fry bread, I love fried salmon .... and on and on and on!

6. Tornado, hurricane, earthquake...how many of these natural disasters have you experienced? Which event do you think would be the scariest? I've felt the very distant rumblings from a couple of earthquakes, but not intense enough to qualify as actually experiencing an earthquake. I've never experienced a tornado. Coming from New Jersey, though, I've experienced my fair share of hurricanes. Hurricanes don't frighten me, but I think a tornado or an earthquake would scare the daylights out of me.

7. Labor Day weekend is approaching so a work related question seems appropriate. Growing up, did your parents assign you regular chores? Were you paid for doing those chores? If you're a parent do you assign chores to your own children? Why or why not? We had regular chores. Our amount of allowance wasn't based on the chores, but we could end up being "docked" our allowance if we failed to get our chores done without a lot of nagging by my mother. My own daughter had chores and her allowance amount was based, in part, on the number of chores. But I don't think I ever had to nag her about one single chore in her life!

[That last question was inspired by a post Mindee wrote on Monday. Everyone go say hi to Mindee-she blogs at Our Front Door and she's funny.]

8. Insert your own random thought here. Another moment of randomness (see #3 above) -- this time I'll just say that I am experimenting with Wen haircare to see if I like it.

If you want to play along, be sure to link up over at Joyce's blog!

- Catherine

The Canine Point of View

Hank and Charley deep in conversation:

Hank (wagging his tail in excitement): This is where we go camping!

Charley (wagging his tail in imitation of Hank): What's camping?
 

Hank (patiently): This is when Mama and Daddy take us out on the lake!
 

Charley: What's a lake?

 
 

Hank (still trying to explain): It's where we go out on the boat!
 

Charley: What's a boat?
 

Hank (still patient): And we get to go swimming!

Charley: What's swimming?
 

Hank (triumphantly): And we sleep in the camper!
 

Charley: What's a camper?
 

Hank (completely out of sorts): Why don't you go inside now, Charley. Just go up the three steps to the door and go see Mama.

 
 

Charley: What steps?
 

Hank: Maaaa-maaaa.......!

Hank is articulate and has good manners. He's also a very good sailor.

Charley is sloppy and lovable, but thick as a plank. He never did quite get the hang of climbing the three stairs to the camper door. But he sure did love his first camping trip!

 - Catherine

Red Sails

"Red sails in the sunset, way out on the sea,
Oh, carry my loved one home safely to me."

(Old song -- anyone remember it?)

The truth is this: my husband has a new mistress. He just acquired her in July. She's a bit worn, with some age to her, but she brazenly wears red at every opportunity:

 

That's right, a catamaran.

He's so enamored of his new toy that he spent nearly all of our lake week with her. 

So I've taken to calling him Cap'n Tim. Do you love his little yachting cap? He's had that for over a decade now and he finally gets to wear it on a boat! And yes, that was Number 7 flexing his muscles for us. Sometimes it's good to be 15 years old.

Of course, Hank had to be part of it. He went out on nearly every ride, comfortably snoozing on the canvas.

 Sometimes they were "becalmed" and had to paddle her in. But that occurred less frequently as Tim's skills improved. This is his first sailing craft of any kind, after all.

 

She really is a lot of fun, given that she's my summer rival!


We're still thinking up a name ....


- Catherine

Getting to Heaven

Yesterday I posted the first of my vacation blogs, and it was about Heaven.

But before we could arrive there, we had the usual Day 1 Experience. To wit:

Our departure had been planned for 7:00 Tuesday morning. On Monday we had shopped, repaired, and packed in a frenzy, working until 11:00 or so that night. We flopped into bed and were out of bed again at 5:45 a.m.

As usual, our actual departure was more like the Keystone Cops than the smooth procedure for which we had ostensibly prepared all day Monday. Every time I turned around it seemed that one more little - yet crucial - item had been left inside, prompting much running back and forth between our RV parked on the street and our house.

Oh yeah, the RV was supposed to have been parked in the driveway right next to the house -- because having that kind of space is one of the reasons we moved to this house.  But the City, in its infinite wisdom, chose Monday and Tuesday to pour the new driveway that goes with the new sidewalk that goes with the new roadbed in front of our house. So all vehicles that were going to be needed on those days had to be parked on the street.

Fun times.

I finally got on the road in my vehicle 30 minutes late. My friend Rhonda and her daughter followed behind me in their car. The boys were not so lucky.  They ended up about 90 minutes late, mostly because as they started to pull away from the curb -- the first time -- the back window of the camper got gob-smacked by a tree branch and shattered into a million pieces. 

Okay, not a million. 

But enough that Tim had to go find something to effect our red-neck window repair: that's right, we sported a very large cardboard advertisement for a Sony™ TV all the way through our camping trip this year. That's what everyone uses those old TV boxes for, right?

Really fun times.

But, as you already know -- we did make it to Heaven. And a few more posts will be coming soon, including the viewpoint of our two dogs.  

Talk soon!

- Catherine

Heaven

In companionable silence, Rhonda and I sat gazing across the sunlit lake waters, marveling at the sight. 

"It's so beautiful I almost can't stand it," she observed. And in silence, I agreed. 

The view from the little beach where we had pulled up our kayaks really was superb. Tall pines, birds wheeling through the air, and the rippled blue/green waters. Paddling across the lake, we'd left behind the main beach's gaggle of small chldren and their screams and cries. Now we could hear nothing but the birds and the wind. 

The pure sunshine mirrored my feelings and I thought, not for the first time, that this place is a little slice of what Heaven must be like. The natural beauty created by God is certainly part of that, but the real taste of Heaven comes from the absence of a measurement of time. No clocks, no watches, no cell phones. We deliberately put them all away at the lake and we live only in the present. That's what heaven will be like, for God lives outside of time.

For one week each summer on this earth, so do we.

- Catherine

Buriel

Today it rained, it poured, it thundered, and it lightening-ed.

And in the midst of it all, I buried my uncle's ashes.

The box containing his "cremains" had been sitting in the corner of my aunt's kitchen since August of last year.

Something had to be done.

I called the cemetery where the family plot is located, knowing that there was one empty grave remaining in the plot. The caretaker graciously agreed to open a hole in the remaining grave.

For $650.00.

Frankly, I could have dug it myself for a lot less, but there you have it.

The rain let up for about 30 minutes this afternoon. Unfortunately I was still driving to the cemetery when that 30 minute window was open. By the time I arrived, the rain had resumed, accompanied by thunder and lightening.

"Very funny, Uncle Bob," I muttered as I sat in my car, waiting for a break.

At one point the storm rolled overhead with a thunder crash so loud that I flubbed the check I was writing at the time. For $650.00.

Guess Uncle Bob didn't like the price either.

Finally the thunder moved off and I got out of my car in the pouring rain. I quickly set the box of ashes in the hole and carefully placed a tiny Swiss flag and then a tiny U.S. flag on top. The caretaker was nice enough to ask me about my uncle, and I spoke about him for a minute or so.

Uncle Bob was born in Switzerland and served in the Swiss army during WWII. He came to the U.S. in 1948, married my aunt in 1950, and returned to Switzerland only for visits after that. He was a naturalized American citizen and very proud to be so. He was also proud of his Swiss heritage. Hence my putting both flags in his grave.

My memories of him include his Swiss-German accent, his remarkable skill for gardening, and his extraordinary energy and vitality. I sure hope he made it to Heaven. I would like to see him again someday!

- Catherine

More treasures?

I briefly lost my mind today.

In my Uncle Bob's office there were two audio cassette tapes -- one of my grandfather's last celebrated birthday (he was 88 that birthday) and one of a visit made by his children (including my Aunt Muriel) during his final months in a nursing home, about nine months after the first tape.

I cried.

And cried.

To be able to go back 29 years in time to hear the voices of my grandfather and my aunts and uncles is a priceless treasure. Instantly I was transported back to my childhood days -- especially Christmas when all the family would gather in our home (we were the only children on that side of the family, so my mother had ample reason to insist that Christmas was at her house). I was not allowed to participate in the adult conversations back then, but I certainly heard them. Listening to this tape was like an immediate re-visiting of my childhood.

Hence the losing of the mind. I lay on the living room floor of my aunt's house, crying, laughing, and talking back to the tape.

The birthday tape is mostly conversation among the siblings. But I caught the remnants of my grandfather's native British accent, which he had worked hard to lose in his younger years, but which crept in occasionally anyway. For instance, "married" was pronounced "marrid" and "Cathy" was pronounced "Kethy." I heard my Uncle Norman's very broad North Jersey accent -- by far the most noticeable among all the siblings, that's for sure. No ambiguity about where Uncle Norman had been brought up!

The second tape is of my grandfather playing the little organ in the chapel of the nursing home. Mostly he played hymns, but he also played  -- and SANG -- "O Danny Boy," a song he'd sung many times as a professional tenor (his side job when his kids were growing up). It is obvious that his vocal cords were totally unused to singing by then -- he was 89 at the time of the tape -- but I can still hear the WAY that he sang and, occasionally, a note that rang true both in intonation and tone quality from his youth.  Fascinating!

I sang along with him on "O Danny Boy" and reveled in the virtual duet.

Over and over again through my lifetime, my mother and her sisters would try to figure out just whose voice I had inherited. One aunt swore that I had their mother's voice  -- but Grandpa put an end to that when he noted that his wife (my grandmother, whom I never met due to her early death) had been an alto. In my classical years, I was a lyric soprano. So, not Grandmother's voice.Listening to these tapes, I'd say that I really inherited the female version of my beloved Grandfather himself -- a lyric tenor in his professional days.

The pop group ABBA had a song in the early 1980s (or maybe late 1970s) called "Thank you for the music." It is most appropriate for me to say to my Grandpa Newark -- thank you for the music.

Treasure indeed.

- Catherine

Questions

I have spent the last few days cleaning my Aunt's house and getting it ready for sale. There will also be an "estate sale" in the next month or so in order to get rid of the contents accumulated over a 60 year marriage.

It has been a long haul, these days of sorting, cleaning, dumping, and saving.

My aunt has Alzheimer's, a sad diagnosis in itself. To think that I will lose her soon - not physically but mentally and emotionally - is daunting, to say the least. I had a conversation with an old friend recently. She is the major caregiver for her mother, who also has Alzheimer's. Her mother no longer recognizes her, and my friend's heartache is acute.

As I go through my Aunt's personal belonging, a clearer picture emerges. It is heartbreaking to see the attempts she made to keep track of things after my uncle died last summer. Heartbreaking to see how often her mind failed her in significant ways. Heartbreaking to know that she was/is aware that she needs to be responsible but that she is no longer capable of thinking clearly enough to do that.

Heartbreaking.

And what do I say when I return home to Idaho with so much of her stuff? She will want to go home, but that isn't possible anymore. Do I tell her that she has Alzheimer's and that she will one day cease to know me? I want so much for her to know how much I love her and that she will always be secure with me watching over her. But would telling her just be a selfish act on my part? She is, after all, God's child - perhaps it is best to leave the knowledge of her condition with Him?

- Catherine

Treasures

No, this is not the long promised vacation post with pictures.

It's not even a post about my 35th high school reunion, although I will eventually write about that too.

This is where I tell you that I am cleaning out my aunt's house in preparation for selling it. And I have found many treasures, including a sterling silver napkin ring engraved with the name of my great great Aunt Ada, along with the year 1896; including a tintype of one of my great great grandfathers; especially including a photograph of a soccer team of young men in England in 1911, featuring my own grandfather - who played so well that they wanted him to play for England and who gave it all up to come to America. The photograph was presented to him on the day he sailed, never to return to England and never to play soccer again. It must have been a hard choice, but I sure am glad he made it. Here's to you, my wonderful "Grandpa Newark!"

-Catherine

The aftermath

I haven't posted anything about my vacation, but here I am talking about the aftermath?  Yep.

That's because one must get through the aftermath before one can return to one's usual pursuits, such as blogging. And uploading vacation photos.

We arrived home around dinnertime on Monday and spent the evening unpacking the camper. Three people, two dogs, and a boatload of dirt came home from a week of camping. I immediately started the first of some seven or eight loads of extremely filthy laundry, a process that continued for the better part of the next two days. Thank heavens for my front loader or I'd STILL be doing laundry from the vacation!

And that would be bad because I am already off on another trip - my 35th high school reunion is this Saturday night in NJ. So here I sit in the Salt Lake City airport in the middle of a three hour layover. Sharing my layover with you, dear reader. You're welcome.

I promise there are vacation posts and pics coming. You do want to know all about it, right???

I thought so.

Talk soon!

- Catherine