Lifes rules

Life rules and observations according to Karen:

 

 Check the toilet paper before you sit down.

 Always take a Kleenex. Your nose will run.

 Carry a hundred dollar bill in your wallet for shopping emergencies and donations to the less fortunate.

 Never burn a book. It carries someone's soul.

 You can't have too many books. You can have too little space. Move.

 A true best friend loves you without bias and encourages you to be wild.

 Anything you make is art. Express yourself. Keep paint on your hands and lyrics on your tongue.

 Listen to the cicadas in August. They sing the summer away.

 Your sister loves you when your mother has passed.

 Cousins are the best playmates and always have a connection to you.

 Grandmothers love unconditionally.

 Reunions recall childhood.

 Smoke on the Water makes you dance.

 Write your story a sentence at a time. A grandchild will memorize your words.

 Your mother is always with you as you parent and love and rejoice. Sometimes she is in your face.

 Buy red lipstick for your granddaughter.

 Let your oldest granddaughter be the boss.

 Grandsons don't give kisses but they like snuggles and hugs.

 Boys talk farts, poop and mine craft.

 The mountains call to me.

 Old enemies become your best old friends.

 At 60, it's okay to wear your Jammie's all day.

 Retirement means you no longer work. STOP. Enjoy the leaves in the breeze.

 Listen to others. They need a shoulder for caring.

 When you are lost, pray to God. You will find your purpose.

Don’t waste time on apostrphes.

I am sure theres more.CC

Candy Time

As a young child., I went to Jackson Local School in Jackson County in southern Ohio. The school and our home were located in the rolling foothills of Appalachia. We lived in the country far apart from other families on Tick Ridge. The school was our social life. The friends were great, and I loved the writing and math workbooks. Before I started 1st grade, I was allowed to go on a one day trial for the first grade with my older sisters. A high point in my life was the day when Mrs. Gahm opened the Big Look and See reader on the easel, and I learned to read the word "look". The world was opened. One day, Mrs. Gahm asked me to write my name on the blackboard. To me, writing meant cursive versus printing, and I wrote Sue in cursive. She was displeased but I had practiced with my sisters and knew how to do it. I quickly found that 1st graders only print their words. We practiced our printing on squares of paper cut from grocery bags. Although most students had yellow tablets, that paper was saved for important work. The teacher gave us stamps and stickers according to the seasons for excellent work. Mrs. Gahm kept her handkerchief down the front of her dress.

 In 2nd grade, I had Mrs. Essex as a teacher. We learned counting to 1000 and adding and subtraction. I used to take my workbook home on the weekends to do pages ahead. Recess also became important as I learned to socialize with other kids. Mrs. Essex had a daughter, Nancy, one year older than me whose dresses were passed to me. Jackpot for pretty dresses with under slips with bells. I still have the dresses in a trunk.

 In 3rd grade, I was taught geography, health and multiplication by Mrs. Betz who was short and stern. In geography, we studied Eskimos and became familiar with China on the other side of the world. As we stood in line for the bus, I became adept at the memorization of the times tables. 3rd graders were eligible for candy time after afternoon recess. In the principal’s office, candies and snacks were displayed on a wooden rack. For a dime, I bought small boxes of stick pretzels wrapped in cellophane. The first time I ate pretzels.

 Although shy, I was a good student. The reading and math and pretzels were the beginning of me knowing the world.

Summer Cedar Point

Tomorrow Ela and Aleks will go to Cedar Point with their cousins and parents who are visiting from California. I feel their excitement. When we were kids, we went to Cedar Point for the Pioneer Rubber Co picnic. My dad worked there,and he could get numerous tickets for a small price. My cousins and aunt and uncle from Lebanon came to go with us. One time, Aunt Lucy and Uncle Jack and grandmother Maudie came from Kentucky to accompany us. I think the anticipation of all the family coming to visit was better than the actual  trip to the amusement park. The parents were only in their 30s then. And grandmother was not even 60 years. I wonder what rides she took. She was probably thrilled to see the gunfights and the skeletons on the Riverboat Cruise. And I can see her smiling as she rode the Sky Ride and viewed the beautiful flowers. It is hard for me to imagine my parents riding a roller coaster. They probably went on the Pirate Ride and the train. I think they spent most of their time trying to keep track of their 7 children   We took coolers and sandwiches for lunch.  At the appointed time we met at the picnic area for food. There was no money for Berardi fries and cokes. At mealtime, we talked about the rides we had been on and who was the most scared on the double Ferris wheel. And the large stuffed animals at the Midway games. We always went in the arcade and wished for a nickel to buy a fortune from the fake rotating gypsy lady. Sometimes we were allowed enough change to have our weight or age guessed for a prize. My mom and grandmother giggled as their ages were guessed way under the actual number. Grandmother chose a chalkware pheasant ,and Mother chose a  small cup and saucer on its own stand. I still have a roaring lion on a platform won for an age misguess. I was 10 and they guessed 14.
We always went home sunburned and tired. At home. we ate bologna sandwiches while the adults recounted the day and other old times. The next morning the tearful goodbyes were for the end of a different time and going back to farm chores. For a time, we were in some other world apart from country town of Willard, Ohio.



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Letting Go

Letting go of your things can be both disheartening and a relief. Last week I sold 6 cartons of used books from my collection for $23 at Half Price books in Columbus. Looking at my shelves, one would say I am still book rich. Those volumes gave me hours of enjoyment and took me out of this life.
This week I will once again have my last garage sale. I am cleaning house of lots of vintage decor, antiques, toys, and parts from dozens of incomplete projects started in my retirement. A retirement that included going to garage sales and auctions. My excitement was certainly greater when I carried those newly purchased boxes into the house to explore versus my aching back this rainy day as I carry them to the garage and disposal.
The red Radio Flyer tricycle that the grandkids rode is on the chopping block this year. As is my daughters' now vintage 600 wagon bought at Plymouth Hardware. The small wooden rockers that have satisfied two generations will go. I thought of saving them for the next ones but that's 20 years of storage. Anyway by the time my grandchildren have little ones, they will probably own the couch and run the whole show. It's hard to  release ourselves from stuff that reminds us of our journey and those who have passed.
Life changes and we have to adjust or  down the rabbit hole we go. Or we can sit still and hope to disappear into old age and life in the home.
Ridding myself of books  also includes the Ideals magazines collected by my husband. 100s of them. He loved the nostalgic stories and stylized photos of days gone by. The days of Sunday dinners and home for the holidays.
I've realized that I  will no longer fit into the size 12 clothes nor can I lose that kind of weight again. The middle age spread has arrived and is here for the duration barring divorce or sorrow. The clothing rack is sagging with jeans and capris.  Plus as I get older I need fewer clothes and more pajamas.
You would think my house looks bare without all the garage sale bounty. Not so. I still paint and draw and read and care for my grandchildren.  I will keep rocks and old keys and odd items for them to carry home and treasure.
My first pre sale was to grandson Riley who needed the globe pencil sharpener, a small toy rocker for a beany baby and a 3x5 piece of my artwork. He is like most other shoppers. Just whatever catches the eye. Riley paid for his purchases by doing a few small chores for me. Vera bought her mom a wreath of roses. She still owes me. And Ricky found an old scrapbook in the freebie box.
Then today is May 6 and cloudy with a high of 45 degrees. I am sitting in front of a heater with most stuff inside the garage due to a 70% chance of rain. We opened the doors at 9 am and have had sporadic customers since. We met a nice man from New Washington who listened to Gary's Camaro run and collected Jadite dishes like his grandma had.
Overall sales were slow, I think, due to the weather. In the end I donated 2 Traverse loads of my valuable goods to charity. I am finished with the hard work of sales. Next up is the downsizing auction. Please attend.

My heart is ready to let go of all things. The memory of you is enough and that is slowly fading away.

Entertaining the Grandchildren

A large strawberry moon rose above the trees shadowing the youngsters chasing the lightening bugs. Their loud frantic voices brought the old dull neighborhood to life again. We heard a harrumph from the old man across the street. He still works so he is not yet 65, but he has lost his youth to the daily life of the job. We have been retired for about 7 years and have begun our next passage. We have a fast Camaro- my retirement gift to my husband. Travel is high on our list. We have been to New England, North Carolina, Kentucky (numerous times) Bowling Green, Ohio, Florida. And Arizona. I have been to Italy 3 times myself. Then there are the repetitive trips to doctors from Cleveland to Clyde to Mansfield that always include stops at Hobby Lobby or some antique store  Antiques are cheap now because this generation wants stuff easily thrown out in the trash. No treasures or keepsakes for them  
My 10 year old granddaughter who is one of the firefly catchers has a malfunctioning phone and her concern is about photos never printed and videos in a cloud.
Today I have five grandchildren guests ages 3,5,7,8,10. For compensation, they are supposed to help me carry and sort items for a garage sale. The 3 and 5 year old are most cooperative, the 10 old girl is begrudging with her help, always worrying about the actions of the 2 older boys who are tired and sly about avoiding assistance. The little girl comes to talk as I unpack boxes and to give me smiles and kisses. 5 year old boy does lots of shopping in the Scooby Doo section and finds numerous items he might need at home. The 3 older kids find the music and proceed to blow horns and beat a loud tune out of the xylophone that no baby ever played.
I do not remember any adult entertaining us as kids. The closest we came was one winter when my Uncle Harold visited us at Jackson. He was a teacher and knew lots about motivating children. On that trip he taught us how to cut paper houses and glue them with a mixture of flour and water. We made whole towns.
Now most adults plan events for their kids or grandkids. Mine have been here 4 days, and we have done the following: painted sharpie shirts, played with water guns, learned Yahtzee (on 2 consecutive turns I rolled Yahtzee), played croquet, shopped in my collection of small found objects, made found object robots, caught lightening bugs, twirled sparklers lit by Gary's torch, watched Pitmasters with Gary, shopped at my barely set up garage sale, had popcorn and Zootopia night, visited their cousins home one evening, made dozens of octopus with sculpey clay and had a science day with Aunt Leah. They always needed something to do. Don't get me wrong that they are not creative. I am constantly amazed by their humor and opinions on life. They are not very open to reasoning yet.
The planned activity regimen here is totally my fault. I want them to experience simple things that they create themselves. To learn self worth. And all of this is sprinkled with my stories and my love for them.

Summer Ages

Summer will never be the same. Last Sunday, as Gary and I drove to the lake at Huron, we drove past Valley Beach Swim Park south of Norwalk. As I looked over the hill thru the trees, I saw no sign life, of the crowds that packed the place on a hot afternoon. The large pool had little water, and the surrounding grass beach was uncluttered. We wondered if it was closed. Then today, I googled the name and found the posting from March stating that they would not reopen in 2016.

Kids and families have been going there for 61 years. My family belonged for 20 of those years. When the girls were little, I usually met my sister Carol and her 2 children there. We sat at the water’s edge while the kids played on the small slide. As the girls grew, every Saturday or Sunday after chores, at around 12:30, we dressed in suits, gathered towels, a quilt, snacks and drinks. And assorted pool toys although the park provided tubes and balls. Often we included friends of the girls which involved picking them up. I have since thought how easy those mothers had it to have their daughters occupied for the afternoon. They probably took naps.

We always sat on the west side grass to avoid looking into the sun. As soon as we spread the quilt for me to lay on, the girls were in the water. I usually had a book to read and a beer or two to pass the time. And in those days, I was a smoker. As soon as I was settled, I heard the “mom call”- “ Watch me jump off the dock”. I did the wave, shaded my eyes and watched for hours as they jumped and slid and paddled across the pool in the tubes. Snack time usually came during the hottest scene in the romance I was reading. They ate chips, pretzels, and granola bars. No apples or good foods. They needed energy. The second snack break required a trip to the concession stand for a popsicle that promptly ran down their arms and dripped on my quilt. They were sent into the water to wash off and with the warning that we would be going soon. Potty breaks meant crossing the bridge to the restrooms. And at 6, they went alone without fear. I watched as they dawdled on the bridge to see the stream flowing underneath and to spit.

As they swam and played, I watched the crowds. Many were regular members like me. Most sat in the same area each time. I watched their children grow from year to year without knowing their names. Visitors respected each other’s space.  One man chose to wear a speedo type suit. He stood at attention with arms crossed guarding the actions of his children. We referred to him as ”Dick”. Lots of laughter.

The weather was always a consideration. If it showered, swimmers ran out of the water for shelter. When we heard thunder, guests packed up quickly for home

Our stay was usually from 1:00 pm to 4:00 pm. At my final wave, I gathered equipment and waited for them with towels and money. Before we left, they always needed a candy bar for the trip home. Usually a KitKat bar. Chocolate for sure that would melt and make a last mess. As I walked to the Blazer, they trailed behind me with towels half over a shoulder and half dragging in the dirt of the drive looking like sad little urchins.

Isn't it funny how things work out

When I draw or paint my brain relaxes. Otherwise, most of the time it feels jumbled and breathless. Usually, I live on the edge of saying the wrong word or jumping in with a wrong decision. Any conversation interruption stops my thought process. I used to have a witty sense of humor with quick comebacks. Cant even recite a joke now. The jokes now come when I use an inappropriate or off the wall word in conversation. We look at each other like “where did that come from?”. My brain is also full of random information gleaned from being a voracious reader of fiction and apparently a set of encyclopedias somewhere along the way.

The status of reading has certainly changed in my lifetime. When we were kids, my parents thought we were just reading to get out of chores or being lazy. Reading was a lifeline for me. I went to different places and times. Not everyone was like Willard, Ohio. My travels led me to ancient Rome and Egypt. I was on the battlefield with Molly Pitcher and at horse farms with Justin Morgan. The Swiss Family Robinson tree was my home.  I fell in love with Rhett Butler.

But still it wasn’t cool to say that reading was one of your hobbies.

Today, the news is full of stories about the decline of books, libraries and reading in general. The public is concerned about the next generation being able to read. I worry about their overall education. So many things and places that young people do not explore in books. Everyone cant visit Timbuktu, but they can at least know what it is. Kids are required now to read a preset number of minutes for homework. My grandchildren still like to learn a new word. Rarely do you see anyone at the airport with their nose stuck in a book, oblivious to the crowds glued to iphones.  Will they eventually speak in the msg dialect?

I am now unable to read books because of confusion and focus. I miss the being lost feeling. But God as chosen for me to try art. Do you remember the pictures in TV guide to draw for art school scholarships? My drawings were always a little off. Now I use that to advantage in abstracts. But along the way, I trained to draw what I see. And that everything in the picture doesn’t have to be in the painting. And no, the painting doesn’t really look like the picture. It is a painting! The artist has his own unique vision.

My current project is titled “Waiting for Jesus”. It is one of a group series to celebrate the days of Holy Week for a local church. I chose Saturday or Black Sabbath as some call it. Yeah, like most of you, I thought that the Saturday after Good Friday was for coloring eggs and shopping for Easter clothes and candy for baskets filled at midnight. This assignment has led me through Isaiah in the Old Testament to the Gospels in the New to find out what happened with Jesus on Saturday. That was/is the Jewish Sabbath and all followed the traditional rules for the day. I could not find that anyone had mourned at the tomb for Jesus. But many awaited his anointing and resurrection- all who are captives of Satan until Jesus proclaims their freedom.

The process of the painting helped me realize my own captivity and that all I had to do was reach out to Jesus for salvation. Praise God for leading me here. And I have no trouble reading His book.