Halloween Eve

Tomorrow is Halloween...not my favorite day of the year, like I know it is for some of you. I just have never really enjoyed being scared, and I am quite picky about candy: two reasons not to love this holiday! But I don't mind being on the scaring end of things, really.... so tomorrow, the Balinese Gamelan Josie and I are in will be playing scary music at the silent film of "Phantom" (1925 version). We will be playing at the beginning while they are carrying in the coffin. Sounds interesting! We will let you know how it goes!

Thoughts on Jack the Ripper

On Saturday, David, Josie and I went to Salt Lake to do a bit of Grandpa-sitting. It is hard to watch the effects of old age--hard to be watching over someone who used to be the one who did the watching. We were glad that we could give Grandma a small break to get things done. It was hard to hear Grandpa say things that were way out there, like when he turned to Josie and I while we were eating lunch and said "Did you find Nancy okay?" We looked at each other, unsure how to respond, then I said "Nancy didn't come with us today." I wasn't sure that I wanted to get into the whole "she lives in Egypt" thing right then...that might have been confusing for him.

While Josie and David went to get the hamburgers (and chicken burgers of course, for the Hindus in the family :o) Grandpa and I sat quietly together. He was dozing most of the time, and I was making sure he didn't decide to get dressed and go to work, or pull out his catheter or other things dangerous to his well-being. Kevin had left the TV on tuned to the History channel, and so Grandpa and I watched a show about Jack the Ripper. It was creeping me out, but I didn't know how to work the electronics--no surprise there--so I just kept watching, hearing creepy sounds in the house, and getting up to look out the window in hopes that David and Josie were coming back. But I am actually glad I watched that show. Because while Jack the Ripper was terrorizing Whitechapel, there were worse things going on there--deadly diseases, poor sanitation, all kinds of horrors of life were taking many more lives than Jack the Ripper. Jack the Ripper was totally selfish, deliberately brutalizing his victims in terrible ways. But from his crimes came something good: the publicity surrounding the cases awoke not only the country but the world to the terrible conditions in Whitechapel, and help came. Money was spent, slums were demolished, homes were built, sewer systems were improved--none of this had anything to do with Jack, whoever he really was, and I am sure that he wouldn't have cared--but in spite of his best efforts to spread fear and be evil, God's hand was there and out of badness, people were inspired to create goodness. I thought that was awesome.

And I thought about how this is also true in our individual lives. We go through scary, horrible, difficult things, and sometimes even because of them, we turn our attention to the things that really matter, and God's hand is there, and out of badness, people are inspired to create goodness. It might be ourselves or others, but people become the instruments in the hand of God to create goodness. And I think that is awesome.

Mothers!

Mothers can be so embarrassing, don't you think? I remember when my mother was very embarrassing. I was so sensitive about how she looked, what she would say...so worried that she would say or do something that would embarrass me. She used to put on her makeup while driving to town. I would scrunch down really low in the seat so that if any of our neighbors pulled out onto the highway, they might see her, but they wouldn't know that I was in the car. I have never pulled that one on my kids--putting my make-up on while driving. For one, I don't wear enough make-up that I would need that kind of time (seven and a half miles) and for two, I am way too blind to even think about doing something like that while driving. So my kids have never had to worry about that one! But as a mother with 28 years and 6 children under my belt, I have had many opportunities to practice being embarrassing, and I think that I have gotten to be pretty good at it. Practice makes perfect, after all!

So, I just drove Josie to a birthday/halloween party. We had the address, but had a bit of trouble finding the house. When we knew we were on the right road, it was a bit confusing because the number was 17, which should be really close to Center Street, only there isn't really a Center Street there, just a place where the numbers get smaller and then larger again. So I saw a 33, but wasn't sure if it was a rising or a falling number. On one side of 33 was 11, so I figured that the house south of 11 must be 17. Where else could it be? But there was no number on the house. So I announced that I would go look. That was pretty horrible, in Josie's eyes. I was going to get out of the car and approach the house and LOOK AT IT. But as I got really close to the door, I couldn't see a number anywhere. Picture Josie in the car, her face turning red, cringing, as I do the most embarrassing thing--ring the doorbell. A pretty witch came to the door. I asked if this was house number 17. She said, "I don't know; this isn't my house." She turned to the ninja who walked up behind her, and said "Is this house 17?" The ninja said "Yes," so I said "Hi, you must be Brianna." She admitted that she was, and I said "I am just bringing my daughter here, but we couldn't see a house number, so I am just making sure we are in the right place." And then I went out and told the ninja in my car that it was safe to go in the house, and she was not too happy with me. But I told her that the girls in the house have mothers, too, and they are likely to be at least occasionally embarassing, too, so they are used to it! Wouldn't you think so?

I am so proud of myself that I could do this embarrassing thing. I am afraid that when I was a younger mother, with less experience making a total fool of myself, my kids might have had to miss the party because if no one can be totally uncool by going to the door and asking a stupid question, we wouldn't know where we were. I'm glad that I have learned this part of the Mom Job Description.

Happy Birthday Kelli!

If you have twins, you have lots of help blowing out candles! Hope you have a happy birthday, Kelli! Thank you for being a great daughter!

Our October Gals

So, just in honor of October, and our two October birthday girls, Kelli and Abbi, here are some pictures of them from years gone by... Here is a picture from April 1980 of my dad, Kelli, Abbi and me. Abbi was 18 months old, Kelli 2 and half years old. In months, that would be 30 months.

Kelli and Abbi loved these cute little jackets. (We would call them hoodies now.) Kelli liked to put hers on by herself. "My help me!" she would say.



In May 1980, we spent a few weeks on the farm in Taber with Grandma and Grandpa. We decided, because curly hair was "in" I am guessing, to do some home perms. Was I crazy or what, tormenting these poor little sweeties with the whole perm thing? Good sports, the girls cooperated, being patient for Grandma while she put in all the rollers.

One thing Abbi really started to like to do at this point in time was to wear the shoes of bigger people. If Grandpa couldn't find his slippers, he just had to find Abbi, and invariably, she was wearing his slippers.



This picture was taken March 26, 1982. I did not take the kids for mall pictures very often. I don't remember why I did it this time...who knows? It is a rather scary looking bunny! There is no way anyone would believe this is really the Easter Bunny! I am amazed that Abbi is smiling, because she generally did not have much patience for grownups in silly plush suits.

Kelli looks happy enough, too. She did like these kind of characters...she was always trying to find out who was really inside the costume!



Our house in Raymond had a back porch that made a perfect stage. Kelli and Abbi loved to sing, dance and act on that stage, often involving David in their spontaneous "productions."

Maybe they can remember what this one (Summer of 1986) was all about? Maybe "I know my number..." or something like that?

Fun times, happy memories. What joy you girls have brought into my life! Frustration and stress, worry and tears, too--but definitely an abundance of happiness!

Abbi's Birthday

Wasn't it Robert Burns who said "The best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft a-gley" or words to that effect...so basically, plans have a way of going awry. My plan for this morning, coming to campus early since Patrick has to be to work by seven, was to post pictures of Abra and captions, and just do this great birthday thing for her. And then...I left half the pictures at home. That is what I get for grabbing them in the dark. And then...I couldn't figure out how to get the pictures to go where I wanted them in the post. I ran out of time, and had to leave for UVU to teach my class. So, here is a picture of Abbi 30 years ago. She was sweet and pretty then; she is sweet and pretty now. Some things never change. Happy Birthday! Je t'aime ma belle fille!

The Big Dolly

I had a wonderful gift given to me yesterday by my cousin Lavon. She posted this picture of me to our family group Facebook page, and it made me so happy to see it! In a flash, I was three or four years old again, enjoying a moment from the past almost as though re-experiencing it. I have not thought about Lavon's big dolly for a long, long time. Lavon is about 7-8 years older than I am, and apparently she got this doll for Christmas one year. Perhaps this was our family Christmas season visit to their home--I am not sure. In the picture, you can see my sweet mother smiling as she watches my happy reaction to this doll that was almost as big as I was, and my dear Aunt Zilpha, Lavon's mother, is leaning with elbow on her knee, also watching me. In the background, Lavon is watching all of us. I do not remember that I coveted Lavon's doll. I know that I wanted one like it, and did my share of saying "Can I have a doll just like that mommy?" But I do remember looking forward to going to Lavon's house so I could once again play with that doll--I could pretend she was my little sister. I wanted a little sister so badly; I did not like being the baby of the family.

Even though Lavon was the youngest child in her family although she was the age of my oldest sibling, I always liked to go to their house. Some of the houses of my mom's siblings were very hard to be at, because there were no children or toys, but Lavon's house was always fun. Her parents were fun, and they had a fun little dog. I don't normally like dogs very much, but their dog had an insatiable appetite for chasing balls. It didn't try to jump on me; it just wanted me to throw the ball, and it would run and catch it, bring it back, and wait for me to throw it again.

One of my favorite memories at their house was a day that Aunt Zilpha let the five of us--Lavon, Bruce, Colleen, Arlene and I--go in the kitchen by ourselves and make valentine cookies. My mom was much more hands-on in the kitchen, but Aunt Zilpha let us do it by ourselves, while she and Uncle Arnold and my dad (Lavon's Uncle Arnold!) and my mom visited. We made the icing every imaginable color, and even colors that I had never imagined before! My mom was a bit of a perfectionist, or precisionist as my niece Elizabeth prefers to call it, so she cared more about the colors of icing--Aunt Zilpha just let us loose! I remember black and purple and gaudy shades of green on those cookies, as well as all the usual cookie-icing colors. It was so much fun to pass the cookie plate to the grown-ups and watch their reaction to the colors!

All these reactions from one photo! And sad reactions, too, because my Aunt Zilpha had a stroke and died in 1963, just a short year or so after this picture must have been taken. I was five years old when she died--and my Grandpa, her father, died later that year in December, right around the time of my sixth birthday. I remember that my parents didn't take me to my aunt's funeral, because they were afraid that I would behave in an embarrassingly loud and inconsolable way--I was that kind of child. And I am sure that my grief-stricken mother just didn't want to have to deal with that AND her loss while at her sister's funeral.

But I did go to my grandpa's funeral (they knew that I didn't really like him very much so I would not over-react--well, it wasn't that I didn't like him; frankly, I was afraid of him! He was SO old and wrinkled and just OLD! In his nineties--he really was old compared to me.) And what I remember most vividly from his funeral was seeing Lavon's face, the first time I had seen her since her mom died, and how sad she looked. I was a strange child; I can remember going to funerals with my parents at a very young age, and seeing all the people crying, and being unable to understand why they were crying. Nothing bad happened, the person just died. Big deal. That was my standard reaction...but at my Grandpa's funeral, when I saw Lavon's face, I began to understand how real and difficult loss is.

My own mother died five years ago, when I was forty-five, and I felt way too young to lose my mother, and when I miss her, I often think of Lavon, and how long she has had to go on in life without her mother, and I admire her for her courage. And I am so grateful for this picture, which shows both our mothers, even if they are not the focus, and they are both so happily enjoying a moment with me, Lavon and a doll. I am so grateful for this memory, this flash from the past, surrounded by some of the wonderful women in my family.