The rush of Christmas activities has been somewhat more fragmented this year due to my sister-in-law’s sudden passing. In fact, it wasn’t until my Beloved and I were halfway through “our day” that both of us realized, “Hey, today’s our 52nd anniversary!”
Through the years since our wedding in 1969, we’ve observed some with splashy celebrations while others have been quite subdued. When you have an anniversary during the holidays, you learn to adjust. Many other events take precedence. Continue reading “Fifty-two Card Pickup”→
Eleven days ago, my lifelong friend and sister-in-law entered into her eternal rest. She was so dear to so many … family, friends, colleagues and numerous students who sat under her excellent tutelage and received personalized instruction. Her sudden departure from this world stunned and pressed us to contemplate our own mortality.
Terri and I first met in junior high school and through the years, we forged a bond built on our love of family, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and a firm dedication in creating things based in truth, goodness and beauty. Throughout our lives, she was the artist who also knew and loved literature, while I aspired to be the writer (and lover) of literature who envied her ability to draw and create images without the necessity for words.
Today, March 1st, is a special day we’re celebrating at our house. It is my dear Beloved’s birthday. He is my best friend, a mentor, and my respected spiritual leader. It’s almost impossible for me to recall a time when he wasn’t part of my life. Even before I knew him, I knew the kind of man I hoped (and prayed) my husband would be … and when I met him, I knew he was the one I’d been waiting for.
In the picture above, I positioned his face over the image. Among his other fine qualities, I’m glad to acknowledge he is a patriot. The notion of patriotism has lost some of its sheen, unfortunately. But I’m pretty certain if he’d been alive in 1776, his name would have been included with all the other signers on the Declaration of Independence (maybe not entirely legible though) and he’d have been standing next to George Washington on the battlefields, fighting during our War for Independence. Continue reading “Happy Birthday, My Beloved!”→
A few years ago, my Beloved and I decided to purchase a new coffee maker. In the process, we also decided we’d bite the bullet (so to speak) and purchase a package of what several websites recommended as the “best of the best” brands. When you plunk down cash for an expensive coffee maker, don’t you want the best coffee to go with it? It made sense.
Sadly, we discovered it was impossible (for us anyway) to distinguish a significant difference between the coffee we’d been drinking for years and the highly-rated brand. Given the price of the highly-rated brand, we agreed to change back to our previous brand, a brand which produced a satisfactory cup of brew for our untrained palates. Continue reading “Coffee Time … All the Time”→
Discussion of a Christmas Past may evoke ghostly images from Charles Dickens’s novella A Christmas Carol. Since first publication in 1843, the tale of Ebenezer Scrooge remains an annual favorite. If anyone could dampen the spirit of Christmas, it was the old miser.
But there are no misers in this Christmas Past. Nor does the tale about which I write wrap up as neatly as one miser’s timely transformation. This Christmas Past is for real people.
The central figure is generous, a young mother whose heart overflows with love and good will. Like Scrooge though, she had lost all enthusiasm for celebrating Christmas. Though Scrooge was beset by general grumpiness, this mother had reason for sadness. She’d been crushed by grief after the sudden death of an infant daughter. Christmas 1955 was close at hand and the mother’s precious babe had been in the ground less than six months.
With loss so fresh, how could anyone summon the strength to celebrate the Birth of a child – even the Holy Christ child? For months, she’d been going through the motions. Now, the thought of celebrating Christmas seemed almost beyond reason for her wounded soul. Continue reading “Christmas Past”→
Our dear friends celebrated their 50th anniversary last night, with a party organized by their three adult children (and spouses). It was a lovely tribute, acknowledging the admirable legacy this married couple has modeled for their children and grandchildren.
In my post Striking Gold from last year, I posted about my Beloved and I having achieved our own 50th anniversary. Our celebration (mostly by preference) was more subdued than previous milestones. So much goes on over the Holidays, having an anniversary rarely receives precedence when more urgent events intrude. Consider, last year I was eight days late with my post! Continue reading “Reaching A Summit”→
My dad earned his livelihood by driving a truck. As a very young man, he delivered furniture. During World War II, he was assigned to deliver supplies to the troops. In the picture below, he’s the young man at right. When Dad returned to civilian life, he continued delivering furniture until he received a job offer from a friend (I’ll call him M.). The company where M. worked needed truck drivers, long and short haul. For the rest of his working life, Dad drove a truck under this company’s name. Continue reading “Cinderella’s Last Date”→
When my parents married in January 1946 after the briefest of courtships, there would have been an ample supply of newlywed adjustments for both. This union was the joining of two individuals from vastly different backgrounds.
My dad’s forebears were mostly no-nonsense, hard-working midwestern people of German descent. Upon arriving in the US, Dad’s grandfather had settled in St. Louis. He and his family led lives of predictability – work, family, church, work some more – with few distractions or embellishments. They were ordinary folks leading quiet lives.
In contrast, my mom’s east-coast (Philadelphia) upbringing turned her into an independent, free spirit, a woman eager to embrace the waiting world. From age six (when Mom entered boarding school), familial attachments had mostly evaporated; only her mother remained and mother-daughter visits were infrequent. Living at school was doubtless a happy and wholesome environment, but sans family. Continue reading “Driving Miss Ruthe”→
Some years before my mother died, she made her wishes known about a funeral or memorial service. To each of her children, she gave instructions. I was expected to sing a song or two. In my younger years, this seemed an easy ask.
However, as both Mom and I aged, I realized my particular assignment would be an impossible task. Oh, I knew the songs. I’d sung each one many times. From my earliest days, music had animated me. I sang boldly with adult choirs even when very young. When my older brother learned to play the violin, I followed in his footsteps. My dad brought home a Hammond organ and I learned to play; I still own it, though it suffers from neglect, no, involuntary abandonment. Continue reading “Together Again”→