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THE WAVES OF OUR LIVES!

Having recently been invited by a dear friend to spend a week at a beautiful cabin on the North Shore of Lake Superior, I’m reminding ...

Saturday, December 29, 2012

THE BEST THINGS ABOUT NEW YEAR'S!



I seem to get mellower every year in my thoughts and expectations about the New Year, but I still have fun thinking about it. On New Year’s Eve Day I envision how my friends in Australia are celebrating. After all, they’re hours and hours ahead of us. Eventually I even get to see the fireworks on display in Sydney. Then on New Year’s Eve itself I often get a call from friends in Germany or England who are celebrating at the bewitching 12:00 hour. I love seeing the fireworks in London and imagine what it would be like to be there, as well as Time Square in New York. When the New Year finally rolls around in the land of Minnesota Nice, I’ve already felt that I’ve done my share of celebrating.  In past years I sometimes watched fireworks in Minneapolis over the river, and they were quite spectacular.  Now I’m just content to spend time with a friend and watch a good movie or have dinner together.  My wants and needs have become much simpler. So with the year 2013 rapidly approaching, I wish you all the best of health and happiness, however you might define it.  Here are a few thoughts from others that made me laugh or ponder a little longer. A few of them I’m going to try to incorporate.


“An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in.  A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.”  (Bill Vaughan)

“A New Year’s resolution is something that goes in one year and out the other.”  (unknown)

“Many people look forward to the New Year for a new start on old habits.”  (unknown)

“Cheers to a new year and another chance to get it right.”  (Oprah Winfrey)

“People are so worried about what they eat between Christmas and the New Year, but they really should be worried about what they eat between New Year’s and Christmas.”  (unknown)

“One resolution I have made, and try always to keep is this:  To rise above the little things.”  (John Burroughs)

“We spend January first walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched.  Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives . . . not looking for flaws, but for potential.”  (Ellen Goodman)

 
 
Our daughter 36 years ago
 
photo of Minnehaha Falls by Heinz Richter
 
 
special pals
 
And one final thought:  I’m going to work harder in 2013 to appreciate the simple joys that surround us every day, including the beauty and mystery of nature. 

Thursday, December 27, 2012

A SAD, BUT COMPELLING LETTER FROM 1889!


About thirty years ago my aunt gave a letter written in German by my great-great grandfather Hilarius in 1889.  He was nearing the end of his life, but he was compelled to write to his son and daughter-in-law after an accident that involved their daughter.  Just recently I re-discovered the letter in my belongings, and was eager to get an accurate translation of it. Although I know some German, I couldn't begin to read the older German script, as beautiful as it was.  Thanks to my friend Heinz, who enlisted his sister and the mother of a friend of hers in Germany, I now know in detail what Hilarius wrote.  From his other writings which were translated into English by his children, I know what a kind, tender man he was.  My grandmother was much like him. I think he would be pleased today to see that he and his family are remembered.  Because I have a strong interest in genealogy, I'm thrilled to have this letter and the translation of it and be able to share it with others. 





Lieber Joseph und Delia!


Wir haben Euren Brief vom 29. November erhalten, aber die Nachricht, dass Euer

Ida verunglückt ist, hat uns alle mit Entsetzen erfüllt. Besonders die Mutter, die sagt
noch immer, es ist doch zu hart für das arme Kind, und wir bedauern Euch von
Herzen, und Ihr müsst Euch trösten und probieren es ja schnell zu vergessen als es
angeht.
Denn wenn Ihr Euch zu Tode quält, wird es doch nicht anders. Den einen Trost könnt
Ihr haben, dass es keine Schmerzen hatte nach dem Verbrennen, denn solches
habe ich gesehen bei dem Peter Klinkner seinem Kinde, welches derselbe auf die
allerähnliche Art verloren hat.
Aber besonders möchte ich zu Delia sagen, dass es sich keine Vorwürfe machen
soll, als wenn es dieses oder jenes getan hätte, so wäre es nicht geschehen. Denn
wir wissen doch alle, dass Delia seine Kinder so gut verpflegt, als es eine Mutter tun
kann. Nur durch einen unglücklicheren Zufall ist es so gekommen. Wenn es Dir
möglich ist, diesen Winter zu uns zu kommen, ist uns lieb. Wir haben auch Platz für
Deine Pferde im Pferdestall. Ich wünsche sehr, wenn Du zu uns kommst, denn ich
möchte über Sachen mit Dir sprechen, was ich nicht gut schreiben kann.
Die Brunnenmacher sind schon 100 Fuß tief – auch haben wir schon etliche Tage
Wasser darin 15 Fuß.
Gruß von uns allen,
besonders von der Mutter und Vater
H. Rondorf

Dear Joseph and Delia!
We received your letter from November 29, but the message that your Ida had an 
accident filled all of us with horror. Especially the mother, who still says that it is much 
too difficult for the poor child and we feel sorry for you with all of our hearts, and you 
must console each other and try to forget it as soon as possible.
If you torture yourself to death, that will not change anything anyway. Because you 
have one consolation, that it felt no pain after being burned, because I have seen 
that with Peter Klinkner’s child, who lost it in a very similar manner.
But I want to say especially to Delia that she should not accuse herself, that this would 
not have happened if she had done this or that. Because we all know that Delia took 
care of her children as well as a mother could. Only because of an unfortunate accident 
did it turn out this way. If it would be possible for you to come during this winter, we 
would love that. We also have room for your horses in the stable. I wish very much that 
you will come to us because I want to talk to you about things which I cannot write about 
very well. The workers of the well are already 100 feet down – but we have already water 
in it 15 feet.
Wishes from all of us,
Especially from the mother and father
H. Rondorf




Tuesday, December 25, 2012

NIGHTINGALE OF THE WILDERNESS!


 Many of us have learned over the years what unexpected events have caused our lives to take a completely different turn.  For me, it was making a trip to Germany at the age of 17 to visit a friend who had lived with my family in Wisconsin for a year.  Less than three years later I was married to a German citizen and back living in Wisconsin.  Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that scenario as a young child.
 
Dorothy Molter, later known as the Root Beer Lady and the Nightingale of the Wilderness certainly never imagined leaving Chicago and living in the wilderness of northern Minnesota, but that’s what transpired because of unusual circumstances.  Dorothy’s intention was to become a nurse, working in Chicago.  But because of her father’s love of fishing and a trip he had made to northern Minnesota, Dorothy’s life changed dramatically.  Her father Cap had learned about THE ISLE OF PINES RESORT, east of Knife Lake in the Boundary Waters Canoe area of northern Minnesota.  He hadn’t planned on taking Dorothy along on that trip in 1930, but one of his friends had to cancel and Dorothy was given the opportunity.  She jumped at the chance; she had just finished part of her nurse’s training.  

Knife Lake, which was just yards from the Canadian border, could only be reached by a canoe or a float plane. Dorothy was amazed at the purity of the region and the water. The resort consisted of four rustic cabins owned by Bill Berglund.  Dorothy learned quickly from Bill how to connect with the animals of the region, and she loved it. The resort was basically a fishing camp and Dorothy found it different from anything she had ever known.  The following summer Dorothy returned to the Isle of Pines resort.  She and Bill, despite their age differences, discovered they had a lot of things in common.  They shared a love of the wilderness and animals and a desire for a simpler way of life.  Dorothy became adept at handling an ax and a canoe.  In addition, she learned how to identify animal tracks and different types of birds.  Bergland offered Dorothy a summer job, which she was happy to accept.  More and more her priorities were moving away from a nursing life in Chicago.  In 1934 she moved to the North Country permanently.  Her family didn’t understand her break from tradition and moving in with another man much older.  But for Dorothy it was a relatively easy choice.  She loved the woods and the people who lived there.  She yearned for a new way of life, even if her family didn’t agree with it. 

Dorothy agreed with the wise words of the Native Americans of the area, that the Great Spirit would provide for needs as long as people learned how to use it.  Dorothy particularly loved fishing and berry picking and delighted in making scrumptious pies and preserves.  Dorothy had also learned how to handle a gun well, but she didn’t have a real killing instinct.  According to Bob Cary, author of ROOT BEER LADY, she once said, “I always felt kind of sorry for the deer.  I knew we needed deer meat to get us through the winter, but they were such handsome animals with their grey coats, black muzzles, and white throats.  It just about took my breath away every time I saw one approaching through the forest.”

In 1948 Dorothy’s wilderness friend and companion Bill Berglund died.  Dorothy had done everything she could to care for him.  Because of the generosity of Bill’s brother and sister, Dorothy was deeded the resort, fulfilling Bill’s wishes.  In the following years Dorothy’s family often returned for visits, including her father Cap.

Dorothy’s nursing skills were frequently put to use at Knife Lake.  She sometimes offered spiritual counseling as well.  She took amazing care of the animals of the forest, as well as the people she encountered.  Bob Cary wrote, “Justly proud of her medical treatment in the back country, Dorothy left a notice in her will that said when she was buried, she wanted her stone to read simply:  Nightingale of the Wilderness.”

Dorothy was a remarkably strong and resilient woman with little fear of the woods.  She had the immense respect of those who came in contact with her.  Although Dorothy continued to live in the region, she occasionally returned to Chicago to visit family and friends.  She worked for a few weeks at one of the area hospitals to earn necessary funds for her life in the wilderness.

Another way that Dorothy earned money to survive was through her sale of root beer.  She had thousands of visitors during the summer months as fishermen, canoeists, youth groups, and families learned of her delicious root beer, which she bottled and sold, along with candy bars. 

Dorothy had a wonderful connection with animals.  Her cocker-spaniel Peg was her favorite.  They were almost always together; when Peg died at age 11, Dorothy was devastated. But she loved all kinds of animals.  One who intrigued her was a crow she named Vera, who was brought to her with a broken wing.  Vera was known for her ability to garner attention when she was hungry, which was nearly always.  Vera had an amazing ability to swallow an array of things, including a medicine dropper, which rendered her speechless for a few weeks.  Vera was also known to disappear with almost anything, including at one time a woman’s false teeth.  The teeth were eventually retrieved from Vera, but she voiced how upset she was. 

Dorothy died in 1986 of apparent heart failure, in the region she came to love.  The men who discovered her were saddened; they knew what a legend she was.  For 56 years Dorothy lived on Knife Lake in the BWCA area of northern Minnesota.  She had become known around the world and much had been written and spoken about her.  Dorothy Moulter was an incredible woman of courage and kindness and humor.  Although a reserved woman, she had endless stories to share and the animals of the forest loved her as well. 

Bob Cary, who had come to know Dorothy well, wrote at the end of his book, “The chickadee in the empty bird feeder pecked impatiently at the window.  But no more seeds would fill the feeder, ever.  The final curtain had descended on a half century of drama at Isle of Pines on Knife Lake.”

Dorothy had lived her life with passion and humility, marching to the beat of her own drummer. 

DOROTHY'S CABIN
 
Today you’ll find the Dorothy Moulter Museum in Ely, a way of preserving her legacy.  Her cabin was moved to the museum and a second cabin was also erected.  If you’re ever in that beautiful area of northern Minnesota, make a point of visiting.  You’ll no doubt understand why Dorothy so loved the North Country.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

A FEW THOUGHTS ABOUT WINTER


THEODORE WIRTH PARKWAY

MINNEAPOLIS SKYLINE


A few days ago I was driving about Minneapolis, taking in the recent snowfall.  Having lived in the Midwest all my life, there are times when winter gets “a little old.”  And then there are times when I’m reminded of how beautiful it can be and what a time of reflection it is.  Here are a few photos of Minneapolis parks and trails, along with memorable winter quotes.


AND THE OCCUPATION IS. . .SKIING WITH THE DOG

            “Winter is not a season, it’s an occupation.”  (Sinclair Lewis)

            “Winter is the season in which people try to keep the house as warm as it was in the summer, when they complained about the heat.”  (anonymous)

            “Hot coffee and cold winter mornings are two of the best soul mates who ever did find each other.”  (Terri Guillemets)

Monday, December 17, 2012

FOR THE LOVE OF CHILDREN and the DEDICATION OF TEACHERS


I spend a lot of time with my grandchildren, and when I dropped them off at school today, as I often do, I appreciated more than ever what a treasure they’ve been. My granddaughter, now 11, always leans into the driver’s seat and plants a kiss on my cheek, even when she’s loaded down with four bags of school supplies. I won’t ever take that for granted again.  Her eight-year old brother often shares his humorous and quirky observations on the ride to school. He loves listening to Christmas music on the way and sometimes sings along.  I know these moments won’t last forever, but I’ll forever cherish them. 

This morning I couldn’t stop thinking about those innocent young children in Connecticut whose lives were abruptly and violently ended.  It pains me beyond measure.  I listened to President Obama say their names at a memorial yesterday and my heart ached; the tears were streaming down my face.  Driving around Minneapolis today and listening to Christmas music, I thought of them over and over again. The holidays will certainly be the most difficult their families have ever experienced. 

And then I think of the teachers and leaders of that school and those around our country.  They are supremely dedicated people who care deeply about children.  Sometimes they’re under-appreciated, but they go on for the love of children.  As I watched many of the teachers of my grandchildren enter the school today, I realized that I will never take them for granted again. I see how incredibly hard they work and the positive values they try to instill.  They see those kids as individuals and would go to the NTH degree for them. I am filled with immense admiration and gratitude for the kind, caring professionals who choose to make a difference in kids’ lives. 

In remembrance of those dear children in Connecticut and the teachers who sought to protect them, I for one will not forget you, today or any day.  My hope is that we will see changes in our country that will make this land a safer place.

            “In the end, nothing we do or say in this lifetime will matter as much as the way we have loved one another.”  (Daphne Rose Kingma)

Thursday, December 13, 2012

REFLECTING UPON THE STREAM OF TIME


A few nights ago I wandered upstairs and noticed my oldest son sitting at the table with the lights dimmed and the Christmas music on.  The song that was playing was the hymn O HOLY NIGHT.  I wanted to tell him that my dad (his grandfather) loved that song more than any other.  It always moved him to tears in our little church in my hometown.  Now it does the same to me and I’m sometimes afraid to be that vulnerable, even with my son.  And yet I know that he would understand because he’s heard countless stories about the kind, gentle-spirited grandfather that loved him, but died when he was just six months old.   
Today a friend and I were talking about the passage of time and how it almost seems sometimes like even memorable events of the past don’t seem quite real.  It’s hard to explain, and maybe some of us reflect on those things more than others. I just know that this time of year music and the thought of loved ones that have left us make a deep imprint on the heart, in a way that’s almost indescribable.


 Remembering my dad, I’ve included a photo of him with his grandson Kai, at two months old.  It’s the only picture we have of the two of them. 



The other photo is of a beautiful little chapel near the Crystal River in Wisconsin.  My dad would have loved it. 

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

"PROCRASTINATE NOW--DON'T PUT IT OFF!"


Every year about the middle of November, when I advance another year, I vow to get my life fully organized.  That infers sending out Christmas cards by early December, returning my library books on time, calling or writing friends I’ve long neglected, and doing my holiday shopping before the Christmas rush.  But something undoubtedly goes wrong.  I think I must enjoy last-minute panic!  Maybe it goes along with my uncanny ability to defy logic.  I sometimes put important items in a logical place one day, only to realize the next day that I’m no longer in that logical mode.  By then I have no idea where the keys or the glasses or the important piece of mail disappeared to. But back to the universal struggle with procrastination! For me it’s a treacherous path of expectations and I finally decided that it’s far easier to write about it than to avoid it.  So if there’s anyone else out there struggling with that age-old issue--take heart!  Try to lower some of your expectations, maintain a smidgen of humor, and light a candle.  Turn on the music of the holidays, sip a cup of tea, and savor a few of these words of wisdom:

            “I remember reading somewhere about an organization called Procrastinators Anonymous.  I think they had been in existence for some years but had never gotten around to having a meeting.”  (anonymous)

            “My evil genius PROCRASTINATION has whispered me to tarry ‘til a more convenient season.”  (Mary Todd Lincoln)

            “Procrastination is like a credit card:  it’s a lot of fun until you get the bill.”  (Christopher Parker)

            “The sooner I fall behind, the more time I have to catch up.”  (unknown author)

            “Someday is not a day of the week.”  (Janet Dailey)

            “You can’t turn on creativity like a faucet.  You have to be in the right mood.  What mood is that?  Last-minute panic.”  (Bill Watterson)

ELLEN DEGENERES
 
            And my favorite of all—“Procrastinate now.  Don’t put it off.”  (Ellen DeGeneres)

But whatever you do, enjoy the holidays, and as Thoreau said, “Simplify, simplify!”  It’s the only thing that’s worked for me.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

WINTER MEANDERINGS



BACK YARD TREAT!



THE FIRST SHOVELING OF THE SEASON

JUST IN TIME FOR THE HOLIDAYS!

There is nothing quite as beautiful as the first real winter snowstorm.  It’s fresh and pure and magical.  It’s what winter is meant to be in the great northland.  Or so it felt this morning.  But I am reminded of other times when I didn’t always feel the same way.  Let’s call it a love-hate relationship with winter.  One minute I’m fed up and ready to move down south or out west, and the next minute I’m praising the beauty of living in four-season land. Here are some random thoughts about winter from a few years ago when I still lived in Minneapolis and not out in the suburbs.  I no longer have my own car, but I still like to look back and remember when. . .

THAT OLD SONATA


            “Waking up to -21 degrees (-39 degrees wind chill)—a measurement most of the world never heard of—AREN’T WE LUCKY!  I find myself praying that my car will start; last winter my Ford Taurus started, but the door on the driver’s side didn’t want to close on a bitterly cold morning.  I wound up holding it shut as I drove 15 miles to work—no small feat driving on the freeway.  Once it warmed up after I got there, the door closed.  I now have a Hyundai Sonata, which has winter problems of its own, but at least the heater works well.  Forget about the air conditioning in summer.  Morgan (my granddaughter) says, “Grandma, it’s more important to have a heater in winter than an air conditioner in summer.  Your windows are your air conditioner.”  It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?  And besides, isn’t -21 actual temperature better than -42 like it was in International Falls, Minnesota?  Wonder what their wind chill was?!

            Black ice caused by below zero temperatures and exhaust from cars led to numerous accidents on freeways.  I nearly wound up in one a few years ago, driving only 40 miles per hour, but experiencing no braking ability at one point near an underpass when cars slowed down.  It gives new meaning to the phrase “bracing for excitement.”

            A conversation overheard in a CUB grocery store:  “This weather makes it really hard to just do routine things.”  Well said!  Sometimes I forget that I’m not the only one who feels drained by just walking around in the snow and cold.  I feel like I’m climbing a mountain as I trudge through the deep snow around the side of the house and up the back stairs.  The air makes me cough.  Then I remember that the treadmill is hard work too, but it produces results.  Just let go and take it slow, I tell myself.  Real slow!

            I find myself wondering if the cat will accept the winter challenge this morning.  I open the door and he sniffs the air and shudders.  I laugh out loud!  The cat who likes “normal” cold weather won’t budge. 

            I’m climbing over snow banks to reach my street and head to my car in the darkness of the morning, feeling grumpy, and then spotting the most beautiful moon imaginable.  It took my breath away more than a frigid morning ever could.  The great grand universe!

            Winter involves getting Ethan (my grandson) ready to go outdoors in the morning—turtle neck, sweatshirt, thick winter coat, scarf, boots, and warm gloves.  It makes me think of the book I used to read to my own kids—MY MOM HATES ME IN JANUARY!  Mom takes forever getting her son all bundled up to go out and play and within five minutes he wants to come in.

            Winter is stressing over unplowed roads after a snowstorm and wondering whether I can make it up the street where I live.  When a snow emergency is called for the City of Minneapolis you definitely learn the difference between odd and even sides of the road.  Being parked on the wrong side can mean a trip in the cold to the impound lot to get your car which has been towed away.  The added insult is a fine of $200 or more for retrieving it.  The number 348-SNOW is forever locked in my memory.

            Morgan loves watching and helping me kick ice chunks off the wheels of the car.  I told her it feels good to do it; it’s fun and it relieves anxiety and frustration.  We have a good laugh, imagining kicking off excess chunks from other people’s cars.  I play it to the hilt and she can’t stop laughing.

            We come home from school feeling exhausted from fighting the cold and biting wind after a long walk to the car, but we settle in to a comforting cup of hot chocolate, a cookie, and a GOOSEBUMPS story.  Life is good!


            Hearing the beautiful sound of a cardinal perched on a tree right outside the window makes me re-evaluate winter once again.  If the cardinal can sing joyously in the dead of winter, what am I grumbling about?

            Winter makes me appreciate the dedicated snow plow drivers who faithfully plow the streets and highways during and after snowstorms.  They’re amazing!

ME (ON LEFT) AND MY PALS

            I remember the joy of gliding on ice as a kid and racing on sleds down treacherous snow banks.  It was scary and exhilarating.  Then sitting by the fire in the Boy Scout cabin trying to warm up and head back out again.  “How long can I last in the cold this time?” I sometimes wondered.  Seeing kids sledding in the bitter cold near Morgan’s school made me question the wisdom of their parents, but then I remembered. . .

            Yesterday as we headed outside it felt like summer.  The sun was shining and it was over 30 degrees.  It actually felt good to be outdoors again.  I spotted a big chunk of ice that looked like an ice goose.  I started laughing and shared the thought with the kids.  Morgan said, “I see that Grandma.”  Ethan seconded the thought.  Winter was fun again, and in the afternoon when we saw several dozen kids sledding down the big hills at Morgan’s school, I drifted back again to my own childhood when winter seemed like the perfect season.  For a few minutes I wanted to be transported back.  Ethan and I walked inside the school, waiting for Morgan and stood next to some unusual looking contraptions.  We both wondered what they were.  The principal came over to us and said that they were brand new snowshoes for the kids.  I’d never see that in any school before.  Talk about being lucky!

            I love hearing about the kids adventures of going snow tubing with their dad.  I’m brought back to memories of Kai heading off to the skating rink near our house when he was a kid.  He had to run down Killer Hill to get there.  Other days Killer Hill was an adventure in itself.  There was the easy slide down or the treacherous one that made every trip down the hill a “killer” with its hefty bumps.

            As I reminisce about winter with children, I remember the quote from the movie An Affair to Remember:  “Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.”

ADDING NEW MEMORIES!

            I have winter memories galore and new ones added every day. One of the secrets to its enjoyment is laughter—abundant laughter, over the smallest things, and when you can share that laughter with children, it makes it so much richer.  Victor Hugo was right in saying, “Laughter is the sun that drives the WINTER from the human face.”  And yet, I’m often yearning for spring and its newness, its fresh hope, for as Hal Borland said, “No WINTER lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.”  I’ll be ready when it makes its entrance.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

A FAMILY OF ONE!


 
OUR SON KAI WITH ELLEN
 
At times I’ve written about a very special person in my life, my Aunt Ellen.  I miss the wonderful talks we used to share, her delightful laugh and sense of humor, her love of learning, and above all, her dedication to her family.  Because of the early loss of her husband and infant son, she had to suddenly make a life of her own.  She used to say to me, “If I ever met anyone as wonderful as your father, I might have married again.”  Instead she gave so many sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews, and friends and students all the love she had to give.  She did it in so many ways.  I doubt that there was ever a birthday or graduation or wedding that was forgotten.  I still have some of the cards she sent to me and my children, scrapbooks she kept through the years, school books with photos of childhood friends and teachers, and the BRIDE’S OWN BOOK from the 1920’s.  Rarely did she talk of her own losses, but now many years later, as I sort through the wonderful reminisces she left behind, I understand her even more.  Her life changed dramatically within a short period of time, but she picked up the pieces, put her faith in God, and stayed positive in every way she could.  Few of us knew the loneliness she felt at times and the ways she learned to cope.  We used to visit her often, especially during the summer and at Christmas.  Sometimes we would walk into her house and she would be sitting at a table playing Scrabble by herself.  She loved to cook a special full-course meal for us and then read to the kids.  Those were magical times with a woman I considered my second mother.  I think she sometimes wondered if people forgot that she had been a mother to a little baby named Arthur.  Mother’s Day was perhaps the hardest day for her.

Years ago Ellen wrote her own story, A FAMILY OF ONE.  I share it in remembrance of her and also to honor and appreciate those individuals who make the best of their lives, despite adversity and loneliness.  Being alone at holiday time is especially difficult. I’ll be thinking often of many of them and sending loving thoughts.

            HERE ARE ELLEN’S THOUGHTS IN A FAMILY OF ONE:

            A Family of One” sounds sad and lonely.  It can be so.  I have learned to plan and set out deliberately to make it otherwise.
            A lone life can be reasonably contented.  But to make it that, one must work for it eternally.
            Bible and devotional reading has been a daily part of my life since confirmation days.
            When a person has been born of understanding Christian parents and has also been a member of a large, closely-knit family, becoming a “loner” can be a frustrating experience.  It has been a natural way of life to talk things over together before making a decision.  Not so when alone-- too often through trial and error you learn others are not interested in your problems and heartaches.  Eventually you learn to take all to God.  He is truly a marvelous companion and confidant.  He is always wherever you are.  He listens and makes the sun shine through your storm of tears, or overcomes some “let-down” you have had.  Believe it or not, even after years of being alone, such times do come.
            Remodeling projects in your home, if you cut corners financially so that you can manage it, are wonderful helpers in lifting spirits.  And they are fun, even if alone.  Needless to say, not as much as with a companion, but still a bit of a thrill.
            Feeding the birds, watching them and listening to their songs and calls early in the morning are a real joy too.  Many of such pleasures are of long standing, developed by a high school teacher.  How hard she worked us, giving us books to read, reams of poetry to memorize which frequently kept me busy until the wee hours of the morning.  For that I have no regrets, for many of my pleasures in this life alone are ones that she instilled—love of fine music, reading of good books, joy in recalling poems learned or locating new ones, walking under the stars at night and locating the constellations and feeling the nearness of an all-powerful and loving God.  Trips also, recall places she told of and planted the seed of wandering in other spots away from home.  Since her death, I frequently rejoice that I did not neglect to write at times and express my appreciation. 
            Letter writing, too, can be the next best thing to a good visit with a friend, relative or family.  I correspond with many and receive dear letters in return, like “bread upon the waters.”
            It’s rewarding too, to feel inner joy and peace from contacts with others in Memorial Home, at meetings, or in various volunteer activities if you give something of yourself to them in a truly sincere way.  Appreciation can be felt as well as given.
            Having good health and being appreciative of it, through honest effort to keep it, by making good meals for yourself, getting your rest, taking wise exercise, praising God night and morning for another day to go forth in His way of life with the blessings He has so graciously bestowed. . .All enlightens your heart.
            So the “oneness” thrust upon you through no choice of your own can eventually render satisfactions, acquired joys and reasonable contentment.  You alone must earn this, through conscious and deliberate effort.  With God as captain of your soul, all things are possible.  God is good!
            A fan of Ann Landers expresses a philosophy which is like my own:
            Take time to think—thoughts are a source of power.
            Take time to play—play is the secret of perpetual youth.
            Take time to read—reading is the foundation of wisdom.
            Take time to pray—prayer can be a rock of strength in time of trouble.
            Take time to love—loving is what makes life worth living.
            Take time to be friendly—friendship gives life a delicious flavor.
            Take time to laugh—laughter is the music of the soul.
            Take time to give—any day of the year is too short for selfishness.
            Take time to do your work well—pride in your work, no matter what it is, nourishes the ego and the spirit.
            Take time to show appreciation—thanks is the frosting on the cake of life."

Sunday, December 2, 2012

SIMPLE CHRISTMAS MEMORIES FROM A WISE WOMAN!


AUNT ELLEN SHARING HER LOVE OF READING WITH OUR SON KAI

Years ago a very dear woman—my Aunt Ellen—shared some remembrances of childhood Christmases with her family.  She was the oldest girl in the family and my mother was the youngest.  Every year at this time I read over again what she so graciously left behind. Here is her story:

“Our Christmas always centered around church and home.  Our mother, that busy woman with nine children to care for, always had time to tell us a bedtime story.  Many of the stories she told us were from the Bible so when we were very young we knew the story of Baby Jesus.  Christmas had real meaning for us as the birthday of the babe in the manger.

Christmas at home was celebrated with a Christmas tree.  Many of the trimmings we children had helped to make.  We popped corn and made plump strings of white kernels for the tree.  To add a little bright red we threaded cranberries and hung them on the tree.  There was some tinsel that was stored away from year to year.  We thought some artificial cherries were beautiful.  Our tree was lighted by tiny candles of different colors.  Only occasionally were the candles lighted and our parents watched very carefully while they were blazing.

There were always gifts under the tree but not extravagant ones.  I remember only two dolls which did not last too long under the rough treatment of a younger brother and his playmates.  However, we were very content with paper dolls.  When real paper dolls were not available, we were able to build up our paper families with Montgomery Ward catalogue cutouts.

An amusing memory of playing with paper dolls is that there was rivalry in announcing when we began to play, “My family is the richest in the world.”

We always hung our stockings on Christmas Eve and were well satisfied in the morning to find peanuts, candy, and an orange and an apple in them.

Our parents mostly gave us practical gifts—new dresses that Mama had made and knit mittens for the girls and mittens and socks for the boys.  But there was also some small toy or game that was especially desired.  The boys received balls and bats and even small pairs of skis.

As we grew older we always found books a part of our Christmas.  I can remember Mama sending one of us down to Kearns or Snitemans drugstores to buy a book for another member of the family.  I well remember the Christmas when one of us received ‘’His Official Fiancee” and the other “In Another Girl’s Shoe” and what a lovely afternoon of reading we had.  They thrilled our youthful romantic hearts.

Christmas was a time of doing for each other.  As we grew older we found little jobs like babysitting and doing small household chores for a busy mother, and the boys shoveled snow or mowed lawns.  It was such a joy to earn money and save for the gifts.  No matter how small the sum, it was divided for gifts for our parents and brothers and sisters.  What fun it was Christmas morning, and in the afternoon and evening there were books to read and games like Old Maid, Dominoes, Checkers, or Rook to play.

And the goodies to eat were so delicious and plentiful.  Our mother was a wonderful cook and nothing was too much to do for her children—popcorn balls, homemade cracker jacks, fudge and divinity (which she called foam), frosted cookies and luscious dark fruit cake.

There was always a roasted fowl for dinner.  Our father was partial to goose, so often it was a huge goose that we ate.  The stuffing was as good as the meat.  And there was mother’s wonderful homemade bread (there never was such bread and rolls as Mama made).

We had certain customs for the Christmas season.  Christmas night and New Year’s Day we always had oyster stew, made with milk, cream, and lots of butter.  In those days our father liked the oysters, but we loved the savory stew and the round oyster crackers that we dropped in it.  Sometimes during the holidays we had lutefisk and lefse for our Norwegian-Swedish father.

Papa always brought home a box of red Delicious apples for the holiday season, and what a treat it was when every evening he went down to the cellar and brought up for each of us a highly polished apple.  Mixed nuts—walnuts, filberts, and hazel nuts were fun to crack and eat.

THE MAMA AND PAPA ELLEN SPOKE OF (MY GRANDPARENTS)

What rich memories we have.  Although our parents are gone, the values they taught us, we continue in our own homes.  And so the Christmas tradition follows through from generation to generation.”

ELLEN WITH ONE OF MANY SCHOOL CHILDREN SHE CARED SO MUCH ABOUT.

Many years have passed since my Aunt Ellen wrote about those wonderful Christmas memories. Sadly, she and all her brothers and sisters, including my mother, have passed on, but I will always be grateful to her for leaving a part of her family history behind.  Years ago I sent her a book at Christmas time that she delighted in called A CUP OF CHRISTMAS TEA.  It’s about a nephew who goes to visit an aunt who’d had a stroke, but finds that although her body is diminished, her spirit is alive and well.  He didn’t want to go originally, but in the end he said, “I sat alone with feelings that I hadn’t felt in years.  I saw a Christmas miracle. . .the triumph of a soul.” The cup of Christmas tea they shared signified so much more.  My Aunt Ellen was the embodiment of the Christmas spirit, always caring, always sharing, and ALWAYS finding the good in people.  I miss her more than ever, but she’ll always be a part of every Christmas I experience.