The Family Wiki

One of the effects of reconnecting with cousins is a renewed interest in my family of origin. I know a lot about them already, but obviously there is much more that I don't know.

My cousin, Sarah, and I have traded a few stories about our grandfather, and in the course of our catching up, we decided it would be good to have a website where everyone could contribute their memories and stories and facts about the family that we come from (my grandfather was one of seven children).

So, I started a wiki for the family. Each of the seven siblings (i.e. my grandfather's siblings) will have a page, as will the couple that all of us have in common -- my great-grandparents. We all have access to edit the wiki pages and add what we know about the various family members from whom we are descended.

Sarah's mom, my Aunt Jan, contributed some interesting stuff today -- including one important fact that I never knew: my grandmother had a brother! I thought there were just the three sisters (she being the eldest), and I do not EVER remember hearing about an Uncle Ernest!

This blows me away. In theory, I should have known this man, as I knew my grandmother's sisters, but he may very well have died before I was born. I'm hoping my Aunt Jan will write more on the wiki and fill in that gap.

And I'm really hoping that more family members will contribute what they know because I think this promises to be a very interesting exercise for all of us!

Saturday

It's Saturday and my to-do list is much longer than I'd like it to be. How's yours?

I'm still waking up on East Coast time, which actually isn't a bad thing because it does give me a couple of hours of peace and quiet before the day really begins. Of course, it means I'm dead tired by 9:00 at night, but there are always trade-offs, I guess. I enjoy the stillness of the house before everyone else gets up, I must say; it gives me a chance to get myself oriented for the day.

Today's list includes vacuuming, steam cleaning the floors, making a batch of tomato sauce, making gluten-free pizza for dinner, baking a gluten-free chocolate cake, and the domestic equivalent of "all other duties as assigned." In this case, both the "assignor" and the "assignee" of those duties would be.... me. (Except, if I see my hubby looking like he needs something to do, I'll happily assign him something from my list.)

This weekend is a brief respite of nesting in the midst of a busy work and travel schedule. Tomorrow we'll be going out to watch the Super Bowl, but otherwise, I intend to be At Home. The kitchen will smell marvelous with the tomato sauce slowly simmering in the oven, and the family room fire will be roaring. We won't even notice the 10 degree weather outside -- well, except for when the dog insists on his daily walks and playtime.

I'm still thinking over and processing my recent visit with my cousin, Sarah, and I'll be posting that blog entry pretty soon.

Happy weekend to all!

- Catherine

UPDATE Saturday night: got it all done! My floors are so clean you could eat off of them. The chocolate cake was so amazing that we ate an enormous portion of it tonight -- so a much smaller portion than anticipated will be going to the Super Bowl party tomorrow. All of tonight's dinner was gluten free -- the pizza and the cake -- and it was all wonderful, if I do say so myself (and I do). Ta da!

But.....

[Fair warning – this entry is a rant.]

The world seems to be enamored of the escape clause these days. “I’m sorry, but….” Or “I’m grateful, but….” In other words: I will acknowledge what’s going on here but in no way am I responsible for my action or words, and your efforts aren’t good enough to satisfy my vanity.

The latest example I’ve seen on a grand scale is that at least one of the passengers on the recently ditched US Airways jet is contemplating a lawsuit against US Airways in order to compensate his emotional suffering as a result of the accidental loss of both engines due to a bird strike. Apparently, US Airways is responsible not only for its jets but for the natural ecosystem around them and the environment in which they fly. Uh huh. Who knew the airlines had such all-encompassing power?

We live – and have always lived – in a world in which not everything can be under the control of human beings. Accidents happen. US Airways was in no way negligent in this incident. How can anyone, in good conscience, sue them? It’s not as though the airline has been silent or is ignoring the situation. They’ve sent each passenger a check for $5,000 up front plus they’ve set up an insurance mechanism by which passengers can recover more of the replacement cost of their belongings. It won’t be perfect, but is it fair to bankrupt a corporation because Mother Nature completely screwed up the careful preparations and planning that were made for everyone’s safety?

The passenger’s lawyer is quoted -- actually quoted – as saying “We’re grateful [for US Airways efforts at restitution], but….” [meaning: it won’t be enough until we have millions of dollars]. Puh-leeze!

If you have to put the word “but” in the sentence, then you’ve negated what went before it. Thus, you are not grateful. Not at all.

Even worse than “I’m grateful, but…”is the phrase “I’m sorry, but…”. It’s a sorry excuse for an apology. In fact, it’s not an apology. An apology is an expression of regret and of taking responsibility for one’s actions. “I’m sorry, but….” does no such thing. A real apology sounds something like this (choose two): “I’m sorry. I truly regret that. I will do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” A genuine apology is a short declarative statement of regret that acknowledges the damage that was done – with nary an excuse in sight. The explanations about the situation may come up in a later conversation between the two people, but explanations become nothing more than excuses when they are attached to the apology itself. Either you are sorry or you’re not. Either you take responsibility or you don’t. The addition of “…but…” means you’re still trying to justify and excuse your actions, or, worse yet (and far too common),actually trying to place the blame on the person to whom you are ostensibly apologizing. “I’m sorry, but… [your actions were the root cause of mine, thus it’s really your fault].” Wake up! The apology isn’t about you – it’s about the person whose relationship you claim to value.

Further, it doesn’t matter what your intentions were. Whether or not you intended to cause offense or pain, the end result is the same: there IS offense and/or pain, and you were responsible for it, whether you meant for it to happen or not. Do you care about the other person? Then make a genuine apology and save the explanation for later. On the other hand, if you don’t care, then I guess the phrase “I’m sorry, but…” is perfectly correct. Because, really, you’re not.

I once had someone say to me, “I’m not going to apologize because I didn’t intend to cause a problem.” At least the person was honest, but the truth is, whether he/she intended it or not, there was damage done. And that damage has yet to be undone because this person thinks their intentions somehow trump their actions.

I am completely unapologetic about this issue. Take responsibility and make your sentiments genuine, please! As a society, we’ve devolved to an extremely low level of personal accountability and an even lower level of gratitude. It’s pathetic and it is no wonder we have such a problem living together peaceably. All is vanity (so says Ecclesiastes 1:2). How sad.

[Okay, rant over.]

Lost photo

So, I got some great photographs of my cousin, Sarah, and her family this weekend, as you can see in my Picasa web album.

When I visited cousins Karen and Jim earlier this month, I took a digital photograph of them -- just one. I did upload it at one point to my computer. Do you think I can find this photograph? I cannot. I've looked everywhere in my hard drive and on the memory card of the camera, and it is nowhere to be found. All those bytes of data.... vanished.

The wonders of technology.

Sigh.

With luck, I'll get more pics the next time I see them (hopefully in April).

Cousins, Part II

I’m in Baltimore today, visiting with yet another "long lost" cousin. This one is my first cousin – and we are the only female first cousins on this particular side of the family. In the odd way of some families (such as ours), we have been out of touch for nearly 20 years.

There will be another (longer) blog post when the visit is done, but suffice it to say that I am finding with Sarah that same familiarity of “home” that I found in the visit with my second cousins, Jim and Karen, earlier this month. Cool stuff!

Horses, milestones, and tombstones

I don’t know where time is going these days, but it’s astounding to me that 10 days have gone by without my posting another entry in my blog.

We spent the weekend at a two-day horse training workshop -- my husband, my youngest, our nephew and his daughter, and a dear friend who’s as nuts about horses as we are. It was an excellent clinic done by Clinton Anderson. Without doubt he is the best teacher I’ve heard yet when it comes to explaining how to effectively work with your horse. He’s also very generous with his knowledge and his experience -- and even with his merchandise (a lot of very valuable prizes were given away during the workshop). Many famous horse trainers use their tours as nothing more than an advertisement to get you to buy their very high-priced club memberships and DVDs. While Anderson’s DVDs aren’t exactly cheap, most of his merchandise is actually moderately priced, and he really does teach you a great deal in the course of the workshop itself. I’ve come away from other horse training workshops feeling inspired – I came away from Anderson’s feeling like I really know something about working my horse. Big difference. And I can’t wait to try it out.

My husband purchased one of the Clinton Anderson DVDs as a gift for me, which is great. But you should know that Tim is still trying to worm his way back into my good graces after the debacle of my 50th Birthday party. The story is this: My June birthday usually passes with little fanfare since it is a hectic time in my work year. When my daughter, Abbi, came home from Korea last August, I naturally planned a party for everyone to come over and visit with her before she headed back for her second year of teaching English. Unbeknownst to me, Tim decided that this event would also be my 50th birthday party. Only problem – I did all the planning and buying, and I did most of the food preparation. When Tim stood up to give thanks to God before the meal, he suddenly revealed that this was my 50th birthday party. That was news to me, and also news to a few of Tim’s kids that he’d forgotten to notify (they were at the party but didn’t know about the intended surprise).

Let me say here and now that I had a great time at my party and that my husband said very nice things about me. I love Tim dearly – he’s a very good man. But, as a point of wifely honor, I have yet to let him forget that I catered my own 50th birthday party, in stark contrast to his, which was quite an extravaganza arranged by li’l ole me. I told him that I was going to put it on his tombstone for all to see: Here lies Tim, who let his wife arrange and cater her own 50th birthday party.

I have to say, the Clinton Anderson DVD was an inspired attempt by my husband to get back on track. It’s something that I definitely wanted – and also something that Tim and I will be able to share. All to the good.

Maybe I’ll let him off the hook in a year or so. We’ll see……

In the meantime, my horses are going to love this.

- Catherine

Cousins

I met up with a couple of “long lost” second cousins the other day. I’d been looking forward to this reunion for several weeks and was very excited about it. And I thought sure there would be a terrific blog post immediately coming to mind after the reunion. I even anticipated beginning that process on the Metro while riding back to DC from our lunch. But, surprisingly, I had no immediate desire to blog about it.

I think I needed time to digest it.

And so I have. And here’s what I think:

First, I think I have some awesome cousins!

I last saw Jimmy (my apologies, Jim – you will forever be “Jimmy” to me) when we were in high school. That’s about 35 years ago. Truthfully, I would not have known him if Karen hadn’t said to me, “That’s Jim.” But when he opened his mouth to speak, I finally saw the resemblance to the boy I’d known. We’ve both had lots of life experiences in the 35 years that have gone by. Jimmy’s life certainly agrees with him and it is always a great joy to see that in someone. He did a five-year stint in the Navy after high school, got married, went to college, had a couple of kids, and now he hangs out in the swamps of Virginia (okay, he’s a distinguished “wetlands biologist” – but wetlands are swamps to me).

I am in awe of Karen. She has homeschooled all five of her children and she’s done it thoughtfully and well. She grinds her own wheat. And she’s a grammar nut (said with much affection) who writes with considerable grace and elegance. I know that because I keep up with her blog. I last saw Karen about 18 years ago at a family function in New Jersey that neither of us can actually remember – except we know that we were both there, she with her youngest baby and me with my 6-year old daughter (both of whom are named Abigail, by the way). Cannot, for the life of me, remember what kind of function we were attending! Anniversary? Memorial service? Funeral? Have no idea (very sad, that).

The second thing that I think is this: there is something that is not tangible but is nevertheless very comforting and real about families. I can’t attribute it just to DNA because I’ve seen firsthand how adopted children can be part of a family so completely that the DNA doesn’t matter. In other words, “nurture” is just as powerful as “nature” and plays just as great a part in what makes a family. Part of this indefinable something, I think, is that we three cousins grew up in the same State, in the same general area, at the same time, and so we were shaped by the same society. And part of it is that we are, in fact, descended from the same family culture. Each family is unique in the way they live – Jim, Karen and I are products of that same experience.

We have some of the same ways of speaking. We have some common viewpoints (and many that diverge, too). I can hear echoes of our parents and grandparents in the ways that we look at life. We have ranged far and wide in our adult lives and have been out of touch with each other for a very long time, but when we sat down together there was a unique feeling of home that just cannot come from anywhere else. I’ve blogged about home before. Being reunited with my cousins reminds me again of who I am; they are part of the experience that formed me. They are unique and interesting individuals. I hope and pray they will continue to be part of my life’s journey.

- Catherine

Travels with Catherine

Here we go again.

Getting to DC was a nightmare -- of re-routing, weather delays and mechanical delays. 16 hours, one $400 travel voucher, and 2,000 bonus miles later, I finally got to DC. And now, on the eve of my scheduled return home, I’ve just discovered that the airline somehow dropped my return trip from the system!

I am on the phone right now trying to reinstate the flights of the original itinerary. Apparently when they rerouted me on the outbound itinerary (from home to DC), they dropped the rest of the trip. Hel-lo?!

I’m on hold. I’ve been on hold for a long time now. The representative came on a few minutes ago to assure me that they are taking care of it and that it will only be a few more minutes while they get it back in the system.

She just came back on again to ask about my address -- apparently they couldn't make sense of it. No wonder. They had the zip code of my old condo in Bountiful and the street address of my office in Salt Lake City. The real pity is that over a year ago I changed the address for my account to my Pocatello home address. How they ended up with such a mess in their system is beyond me. When I told the rep that I'd changed my address over a year ago, her response was "you must have done that online." Well..... if online is my only resource for making a change of address, why doesn't it translate through the rest of their system? Hel-lo?!

What the....?

Flood

Yesterday I wrote a brief entry announcing the passing of my friends’ son, Ben.

Ben’s mother, Carin, kept a journal on the CaringBridge.org site – a free website service that gives people in the Towne’s situation the opportunity to keep loved ones and friends informed. The site contains a guest book feature, a journal feature, and space for photographs. Carin and Jeff made good use of this wonderful website during their 18 months’ ordeal.

I’ve been reading parts of the guest book and have been struck over and over again by the outpouring – the absolute flood – of compassion from people who do not know the Towne family. So many entries start out “You don’t know me, but….” And so many of those entries contain eloquent expressions of sympathy for, and empathy with, the Towne family.

It renews my faith in humankind.

Carin and Jeff are in a very difficult place in their life journey. Ben spent nearly half of his short life battling neuroblastoma; the ups and downs of his ordeal can be found in his mother’s journal on the CaringBridge site. Understandably, the doubts and fears of his parents can be found there, too. It’s a heartbreaking read, but I highly recommend it. Read the guestbook, too. More than 5,000 expressions of encouragement, comfort, and sympathy have been logged since the summer of 2007. A flood.

Today Benjamin Ward Towne, age 3 1/2, the much loved son of two very dear people, lost his battle with neuroblastoma. We live in a wounded world and today I'm finding it hard to bear.

-Catherine

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Another hectic December is flying by and I’m still not quite ready for Christmas. I am working on top-secret homemade projects and my inspiration level has been pretty darn low lately. Not sure why that is – must be my own version of the “shoot yourself in the foot” gene that has plagued some members of my family over the generations. I intend to rise above my DNA, however, and get these gifts done in time for the holiday.

It’s cold here in Pocatello – really cold. I’m so glad we have our gas fireplace/stove running in the family room. It’s very near my desk and I stay toasty warm all day while I’m working. We’re expecting more snow starting this evening and going into tomorrow; should be a white Christmas for us because we’re not expecting a thaw anytime soon. The barn in the picture above is my favorite of this year's Christmas scenery in Pocatello.

Last night a small group of souls from my church went caroling at one of the local assisted living facilities. This is a far cry from the nursing homes that we used to visit when I was a kid – those were much more like medical/hospital facilities than ‘assisted living’ homes. I can still remember caroling for the first time with my high school choir at one of those places. We were visiting one of the “nicer” nursing homes in our area, but sections of it were still pretty grim. What struck me, though, and also thrilled me was watching the faces of the inhabitants as we sang the familiar carols. Many who were disoriented, senile, and “out of it” would sing, or at least mouth the words along with us. Obviously the lyrics of the Christmas carols were embedded deeply in their memories – so deep that they couldn’t be completely erased, even as the years took their toll. I loved seeing these people come a little bit more alive in response to the music. I hope the message of the carols was just as deeply embedded in their minds as the words and the music – I’ll never know for sure, but I hope.

Last night we sang for many in a lovely facility. What struck me this time was a woman sitting alone on a bench at the end of one of the corridors. She watched us intently as we sang for her (we toured the hallways, singing), but she didn’t give any recognition, didn’t sing along or even mouth the words. As we moved off, she remained seated on that same bench, by herself. When we reached the opposite end of that corridor, I looked back and still she was there. Seemingly motionless. I wondered what she was thinking and hoped that the music had somehow reached her. That’s another one I’ll never know, but I hope.

It’s no secret that I am a Christian. I am seriously grateful for Christ’s work on the Cross on our behalf. I look with hope toward the day when I get to go home to meet my Savior face to face. In the meantime, I’m happy to be on this earth, where He came, too – just a tiny baby in the most squalid of human circumstances. God and man. Lord and Savior. Redeeming His own.

Merry Christmas!

- Catherine

Husband Tag!

My niece, Mandee, posted this on her blog and then tagged me to be one of the next people in line. So, here it is:

Husband Tag
1. Where did you meet? In a restaurant in San Francisco (Tim likes to say we met in a bar – because we were introduced in the bar section of the restaurant before sitting down in the dining section with the rest of the group.)
2. How long did you date before you got married? We corresponded as friends for a full year, then dated for 9 months before we got married.
3. How long have you been married? 8 years this December 31
4. What does he do that surprises you? He loves me.
5. What is your favorite feature of his? His hair
6. What is your favorite quality of his? He is truly a man after God’s own heart.
.7. Does he have a nickname for you? Yes. (No, I’m not sharing it.)
8. What is his favorite color? Pretty sure he doesn’t have one.
9. What is his favorite food? I don’t think he has one, although I’m sure he likes my cooking.
10. What is his favorite sport? He doesn’t do much in the way of sports these days. He likes to watch football.
11. When and where was your first kiss? At O’Hare airport in Chicago.
12. What is your favorite thing to do as a couple? Travel.
13. Do you have any children? Between us we have 7 (I have 1, he has 6)
14. Does he have a hidden talent? He can do just about anything one-handed.
15. How old is he? 52.
16. Who said I love you first? He did – on the phone – I was completely floored.
17. What’s his favorite type of music? Hymns.
18.What do you admire most about him? His patience and his tenacity.
19. Do you think he will read this? Definitely not.

So, I'm tagging Katie G., Katie M., Tracy P., Connie C., Ruth S., Karen S., and Lenae C. (you all know who you are!)

Tumbleweed Thwacking

Pocatello is a windy city at times, and yesterday was a good case in point. The wind howled off the west bench, down through the open spaces in town. And I thwacked a couple of tumbleweeds with the front of my car.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw tumbleweed blowing in the wind. We were seated in a fast food joint near an intersection. As my husband (then fiancé) and I talked, I noticed something hurtling along on the pavement underneath the traffic lights. Incredulous, I interrupted our conversation to ask, “Is that tumbleweed I just saw??” Tim didn’t even glance out the window but answered in the affirmative. “I thought you saw them only out on the plains,” I said suspiciously. “Nope,” he said. “We get them in town, too.”

This East Coast girl had never seen one up close and personal. Only on TV in Westerns. The 19th century kind. With gun slingers poised at either end of a deserted street, townspeople hiding in the shops and the saloon.…. you get the picture.

And there Tim and I were, watching tumbleweed blowing across late 20th century civilization. Wow.

Since I’ve moved to Pocatello, I’ve seen a lot more tumbleweed, of course. When the wind gets going good and strong here, everything blows around. When I first saw one coming at my car, and could tell by the rate of its speed and mine that we were going to meet, I had a momentary impulse to swerve. That would be all the years of deer-avoidance as a resident of New Jersey there. Then I realized it wasn’t alive and was so light it wouldn’t hurt my car. Thus I discovered that when you hit tumbleweed just right with your car, it splinters nicely all over the place. Thwack!

Grandmother's Rolling Pin

Ever since I can remember, this rolling pin has been part of my life. My mother always used it to make her pies, and as far back as I can remember it has been missing one of the red handles. The spot where the other handle should have been is clearly visible, but I was probably approaching my teen years before I realized that this rolling pin wasn't quite normal. Rolling pins were actually supposed to have two handles. And yes, I did have one of those tiny replica rolling pins that little girls everywhere had (and continue to have, I guess). But I thought the little toy had two handles because it was for children, and that real, grown-up rolling pins needed only one handle.



My maternal grandmother, Anna, was the first person to own this rolling pin, which makes me a third-generation owner. I never knew this grandmother because she died a few weeks before my parents got married back in 1954. I know only what my mother and aunts have told me about her through the years. She had rheumatic fever as a child and always had heart problems thereafter; in fact, her early death was caused by a massive heart attack. The only surviving child of a Baptist and a bookie, she was much loved. She was also quite beautiful and it is no wonder that she captured the heart of my grandfather shortly after he arrived in the United States from Great Britain. Together they had five children, burying one in the dark days of summer diphtheria outbreaks. My mother was the baby of the family and, from what I can gather, the sunshine of her parents’ lives.

I’m not sure how my mother came to own the rolling pin – I don’t know if she was given it when she moved out after college or after her mother died or what... I inherited it at the time my parents’ marriage dissolved, when I was 16. Through the years and several moves, one across the country, I’ve somehow managed to hang onto this most pedestrian of kitchen tools, the wooden rolling pin with the red handle. Every pie I’ve ever made has been rolled out with this pin. I think of Anna and I think of my mother each time I’ve used it.

My own childhood contains vivid memories of sitting at the kitchen table, watching my mother roll out dough and slice up apples. Even now, just the faintest smell of cinnamon will bring that memory back to me. If we were very good, Mom would let us play with the trimmings of raw dough after she’d finished putting the pie together. What great fun we’d have with that stuff – colorless and a little greasy, yet we considered it better than playdough, for some odd reason. Even better were the rare occasions when Mom would have enough leftover dough to make what she called “tarts” for us: small pieces of pie dough rolled out, liberally sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, and then baked until crispy. I can see -- and smell -- them coming out of the oven now.

The solid wood rolling pin is a classic, even with one handle missing. This one isn’t much to look at, but when I do look at it, it’s a lot.

-Catherine

We played football today and I took pics with my new camera lens

Thanksgiving

First, let me extend my thanks to everyone who has wished me well during this ordeal with my shoulder -- I truly appreciate everyone's concern!

While my shoulder is still bothersome, I am able to type for short periods of time now – with two hands, that is. Thank goodness! I’ve been typing in excess of 70 words per minute since I was in high school. Being reduced to one hand was really a trial, to say the least. My husband (who has had only one arm for the last 20+ years) couldn’t resist saying what I knew was coming when I complained about it: “Welcome to my world,” he joked.

But even one-handed, I can still type faster than he can. Heh. Heh. Heh.

Today I have another therapy session and then it’s off to the grocery store for some things we’ll need this weekend. I will be careful not to do too much with my left arm, though – the shoulder is still pretty touchy.

My gluten-free stuffing attempt of last week didn’t work out as well as I’d hoped, so I will be experimenting again today with a different mixture of seasonings. The texture of the stuffing was really great – but the taste just wasn’t there. In fact, it was what I refer to as the “double whammy” – gluten free AND taste free.

In addition to the stuffing, I’ve found a recipe for gluten-free corn pudding that I’m planning to try today as well. If it works, it will go with us to the Thanksgiving feast at my mother-in-law’s house tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll keep it for our weekend parties (of which there will be a few).

Thanksgiving weekend is one of my favorites here in Pocatello. There are a lot of things going on in town – a parade of lights, an evening of fireworks, special shopping events in Old Town, all kinds of fun, small-town stuff. I’m thankful to live in a place where community is so important.

I read an interesting article yesterday in Christianity Today online about how a daily spirit of thankfulness can really help a marriage partnership get through the tough times. That concept seems like a no-brainer at first glance, but the subtlety of the attitude orientation really has quite a powerful effect. A habitual spirit of thankfulness preserves and protects the partnership, rather than letting everyday life tear at its fabric. I like that. And I think that same principle can be applied to all of life.

My cousin, Karen, ends every one of her blog entries with the reminder, “Be thankful.” Today I will do the same.

Be thankful!

Catherine

The Update

I've no idea how I managed to separate my left shoulder, but I did just that. So I'm in a sling and getting physical therapy for the next little while.

Typing with one hand does not lend itself to updating the blog regularly, as you can well imagine. I am working on a piece, but it will probably be a while before I can finish it. I hope to be back soon!

Wishing you all the best,

Catherine

Veteran's Day 2008

I am descended from a Revolutionary War veteran – a man of Dutch descent whose first name was Koert (probably pronounced in a way that sounded like “Curt”). The Battle of Monmouth, which raged near Old Tennent Church in Monmouth County, New Jersey, is considered to be one of the non-decisive battles of the War for Independence (read: a draw). I know my ancestor was in that particular battle, but I don’t know much more than that.

Of course, there was no Veteran's Day holiday at that time.

Generations later, my own grandfather (from the same family as ancestor, Koert) fought in both World War I and World War II. I know very little about his military service in the first World War, but I do know that he volunteered to go back in for WWII and went over to Europe as military police (he had been a mounted police officer in Newark, NJ, at the time). After the war, he remained in Bavaria for a short time as one of the Military Governors assigned by the Allies to aid the transition process. He also witnessed at least part of the Nuremberg trials.

Two of my stepsons currently serve in the Idaho National Guard, with one of the boys already having completed a tour of duty in Iraq. (That’s a year that we spent pretty much down on our knees.) There is talk that the Idaho Guard may be deployed again within the next 18 months, and I will confess that I am very, very reluctant to see them go.

I won’t pretend to know whether our current war is justified or not justified, and it’s not a point I’m willing or able to debate with anyone. It is what it is, and our hard-working troops go where our government sends them.

The point is that we owe all our veterans a great deal of gratitude – and that’s true whether they fought in a popular or an unpopular war. The scars they receive from battle are not just physical and can shadow their whole lives. The scars their families bear as a result of the enforced separation can be long-lasting and deep.

We really do owe them a huge debt for the sacrifices they have made/are making on our behalf.

And now for something completely different....

The election is over, thank goodness, and now we can go back to real life. The real life of cleaning, cooking, walking the dog, getting ready for Christmas.....

Oops! Did I mention it's time to get ready for Christmas? Yep. I'm not a last-minute kind of gal when it comes to Christmas. Can't be, with a family that is the size of ours! Plus, I really enjoy the Christmas season. Not the commercial stuff, but the real meaning of it (i.e. We are loved so much by God that He was born into this messy world of ours!) And I love the memories, the tree, the food, the family gatherings, going to church on Christmas Eve, having some time off that week to play, listening to the music (it's already playing on my MP3 player!), the food (oh, did I already say that?).

This year I'm intending to make fudge. I don't do it every year because I often run out of time. But this year it's on my list, and now that I have a proper kitchen to play in, I think it will get done. Plus it's one of the few sweet treats I make that Tim can eat without getting sick.

My mother made fudge EVERY year at Christmas. Tied up with a pretty ribbon, it made (and still makes) a good gift for neighbors and friends, for one thing. My brother and I absolutely loved it and would cram down as much as we could get our hands on! I have vivid memories of Mom reminding us (rather forcibly) to refrain from eating the entire contents of the crystal candy dish within minutes of her setting it out. Vain hope! I'm pretty sure we got in trouble quite a bit over that.

Mom's recipe called for cooking the mixture and using marshmallow fluff -- a really messy experience. My recipe uses melted chocolate, but doesn't require cooking and doesn't include marshmallow in any form -- and I prefer the taste and texture of this recipe. (Plus, you can add a drop or two of peppermint flavoring to the batch and get 'chocolate-mint' fudge in a jiffy!).

Here's my basic recipe:

1 14-oz. can of sweetened, condensed milk
1 12-oz. pkg. of semi-sweet chocolate bits (or milk chocolate bits, if you prefer)
1.5 (yes, that's "1 and 1/2") squares of bitter baking chocolate

Melt all the chocolate together. Add the condensed milk. Beat until smooth (this is the step where you'd add a drop or two of flavoring, if you wish). If you want to add 1/2 c. chopped nuts, stir them in after you've beaten the fudge.

Pour into a buttered 9" square pan. Cool completely and cut into small squares.

Get out there and vote!

One of the wonderful things about our country is that we, the people, have a voice. We can vote. So, today, please let your voice be heard!

I'm heading to the polls very soon. So should you!