Judy

Midnight visitor

Last night one of the grandkids came in from out of state for Thanksgiving. I was cold and wanted something hot to drink. I heard voices but not realizing there was someone here; went to the kitchen to get some tea to drink. She was in the living room talking to her dad. I was embarrassed walking to the kitchen in my nightgown interrupting their conversation, but it reminded me of a childhood memory. It was so clear it was like I was taken back to the days before phones, rotary or cell, Facebook, or email. Back when the only way we heard from family was when they showed up at your door. They would start out after work, drive at night so the kids would sleep and usually show up at midnight. We lived in Southern Missouri on a dairy farm. We became the family go to spot for those who lived in the city. The adults would set up talking until around 2 am. We kids were sent off to bed to sleep. But that didn’t happen. We sat at the top of the stairs listening to what the adults were talking about until we got bored with family news and started playing. After getting told to calm down a few times we gave in and went to bed, girls in one room and boys in the other.

It was great ease dropping on the adults but forgetting that it would soon be morning and on a farm that means early morning chores. Animals still had to be fed, and cows need to be milked, eggs gathered. But with all the new help we got done in record time. We could smell the bacon cooking and biscuits baking for breakfast. If it was near a holiday the cinnamon rolls and hot coco would be added. Being the oldest was a different challenge. You were expected to help the younger ones with chores as well as getting them ready for breakfast. During school I got everyone ready for school in plenty of time to walk the 2 miles to get there. We lived at the end of a lane, and we joined other kids along the way. We went to a one room schoolhouse with all eight grades together. There were 18 kids in our school. After the two neighbor girls graduated and went to high school my sister and I were the only girls.

Thank you, Trina, we are so glad you and James were able to come for Thanksgiving and for bringing back the wonderful memory of holidays gone bye.

GOD BLESS EVERYONE, HAVE A WONDERFYL TIME WITH FRINDS AND FAMILY

REMEMBER WHEN: MEDICAL SCARE

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I have always been healthy. Even as a kid I wasn’t sick very often. Maybe that comes with being the first born. You are expected to be a helper not a needer. Oh I had the normal bouts and scrapes; cuts, bruises, allergic reactions, stuff most kids in the 50’s got into. My biggest problem being born with calcium deficiency which caused me to have poor teeth. My brother never took care of his teeth and never had cavities and me who took care of mine constantly always seemed to need work done.

Then as a teenager discovered I was allergic to wild grapes and swelled up like a balloon and had a rash everywhere. One summer I got poison ivy so bad I had to soak everyday in boric acid. That was the worst summer I can ever remember. I had to get stitches in my head, as a senior in high school as the result of a swimming accident.

But here I am over 75 and had the worst scare of my life. A couple of weeks ago I had a small stroke, as the doctors called it. All of a sudden I couldn’t stand up. My left leg would not hold my weight. We called 911 and the medics suggested I go to the ER. I was given a cat scan and it was determined that I needed more evaluation than our hospital could provide and was sent to the next large city that could provide additional care. After crises medication and further testing it was decided that I needed a MRI of my head that could give a better picture than the CT SCAN. This test said I had a small blood clot or bleed in the right frontal side of my brain and I was given a medication to dissolve it. By the next morning I had no symptoms and was able to get up and walk on my own.

I stayed in the hospital for another day for observation and then sent home with orders to see my primary care doctor with-in 3 to 5 days. My doctor wanted me to see another neurologist before releasing me. I was also put on a lose dose blood thinner to help stem the possibility of having another episode. I try not to take prescriptions but decided to give it a try of 30 days. Of course it was going to be another month before I could get in to see the specialist. And I could not return to work or drive.

For someone who seldom gets sick it is hard to admit you might have a problem. And dealing with scheduling follow up appointments when you have to rely on other people to get you there is frustrating to say the least. Inactivity has always been my downfall. I don’t do well without some deadline on the horizon. My one true pleasure activity is reading. I have been an avid reader ever since I learned how to read. I always have a book within reach; it doesn’t matter if it is an actual book; pamphlet, or an electronic device. I need to have access to the written word. Knowledge has always been paramount to me. Our parents instilled in us the importance of continued learning. Be it a new skill or the perfecting of an old one.

One thing I have learned is that inactivity is ok. Eventually the body needs to recharge, to step back and reset. The human body was designed to live a certain amount of time. But if you over tax it, that amount of time can be lessened, or your health will be compromised.

This is where faith comes in. If you rely on faith in your creator you will be able to step aside and put your health, future, even life expectancy in His hands no matter the outcome. Jesus paid the price for our health, well being and future when he died on the cross. That never changes, it is still as viable today as it was the day he hung on the cross. Whatever you need, don’t hesitate to ask, He will meet your need.

1st Peter 2:24 He personally carried our in his body on the cross so that we can be dead to sin and live for what is right by His wounds you are healed.

Remember: Screen Door

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I recently had the privilege to stay at a log cabin ( the early nineteen hundreds style. ) It was a wonderful experience. We were working on a project out in the country and spent the nights after work in the lovely home. Like stepping back in time we sat on the porch in rocking chairs and slept in 4 poster beds. The bathroom even and a claw foot tub. The wood burning cook stove had been electrified, the refrigerator had been covered in corrugated tin, the dishwasher was concealed in an period cabinet but the feel of a 1900 cabin was there in the wood floors throughout and large fireplace centered in the living room wall.

What caught my attention though was the old screen door. It had a spring attaching it to the door frame and the sound of it hitting the edge of the door frame brought back memories of living on the farm when I was a child. The farm house we lived in had 3 screen doors; one at the front of the house and one on each side off the kitchen. These led into porches one closed in and one open but covered. The screen doors all were attached to the house with a long spring that fitted diagonally across the door. One end attached to a point midway up the side of the door and the other to the lower part of the door frame. When the door was opened the spring would be stretched and cause the door to bounce back and hit the frame with a resounding bang if not caught.

As children are often on the run the door seldom got caught and so the door got slammed several times a day. This noise would get annoying to those who were working in the house. We often heard the phrase “Go in or come out but stop slamming that door.” Some houses of that era were built in a fashion that aligned the house with the front and back door opposite each other. This was called a shotgun house. It was said you could shoot a gun through the front and it would go out the back without hitting anything in-between.

When we visited our friends that lived in such a house the kids would chase each other in the front and out the back until the moms would banish them from the house to stop the slamming of the door.

It is amazing how simple sounds, smells, or even songs can prompt long forgotten memories.

I hope your childhood memories are pleasing and take you back for a while to a place where the hustle and bustle of daily life can be forgotten even for a little while.

REMEMBER: SUMMER FUN

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What do teenagers do in the summer: when you get a break from farm chores, who live 15 miles from the nearest town, only a few drive, but most of all you have an eleven o’clock curfew? You pile as many as you can in as many vehicles as you have and head to Moon Valley Access for a bon fire and wiener roast. We called it Moon Valley Beach but truth be told it was a low water crossing to get from pasture to another. It was open range land and many different farmers used it for summer pasture. In the fall the cattle would be rounded up and each farmer took his tagged cattle back to his farm.

But to us it was a way to have fun on a hot day. To swim and enjoy each other’s company. We all knew each other from grade school on into high school. We didn’t pair up because that would be like pairing up with your brother. We were just a big gang of friends who enjoyed hanging out together. Those were fun times. We would dance and sing around the fire. Somebody always had a guitar or a boom box or we would turn the radio on in one of the trucks.

Sometimes we would set and talk about our plans for the future. Most wanted to go to college, but knew that if it was called for they would stay and run the family farm. The war in Viet Nam had just started and the boys new they had to sign up for the draft as soon as they turned 18. We didn’t talk about it much but the thought still loomed in the back of our minds that the call could come at any time. Graduation was getting closer and lives would change one way or another.

While we could it was our time to lie on the beach, soak up as much sun as we could, eat hot dogs roasted on the fire and enjoy the company of friends. The war did come close to home many of the boys were drafted some enlisted and one of our group didn’t come home.

Rest In Peace our friend: You gave the ultimate sacrifice we miss you always.

REMEMBER: WOOD STOVE COOKING

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If you are over 60 or grew up in the country you might have experienced cooking on a wood burning stove. Either from necessity or choice cooking this way has it’s benefits. Saving money on fuel or when the power is out; the ability to produce a meal for the family is very satisfying. Plus having a wood burning stove provides heat when other means are not working. Even though we gradually obtainer other means of heating the house we always kept the wood burning stove available and wood on hand to use it.

If you grew up this way just the coziness of a wood fire, the smell and the knowledge that you can stay warm are quite satisfying. I learned how to use a wood burning stove living on our farm in southern Missouri in the early 50s. We had moved there after dad and mom decided they didn’t want to live in the city. The small rural subdivision we lived in was being incorporated into the Iowa city we lived near and dad didn’t want that at all. We found ourselves overnight; having to learn a whole new way of life, from city kids to country kids. From close family to no family, hanging around and running the neighborhood to daily farm chores and being considered farm workers.

Being the oldest and a girl meant that I needed to learn to take on the responsibly of the kitchen and household. One of those responsibilities was learning to use a wood burning stove. Mom or dad started the fire but I was to be sure it kept going and to have wood ready to keep it burning. That was keeping the wood box full and the stove, stoked as we called it, or filled with the right amount of wood. If there wasn’t enough the stove wood not put out enough heat to warm the room or cook a meal. We had a cook stove in the kitchen that did double duty of heating the kitchen where we ate and being used to cook the family meals.

The next room was a kind of seating room where the stairs to two bedrooms were. In the winter we didn’t use the big living room as it was too hard to heat. We had a large stove in the family room which provided heat that went up the stairs to the bedrooms. It was also where we got dressed each day that it was too cold upstairs. Dad would get the stove good and hot then we would grab our close that we kept under the covers with us and run downstairs to put them on next to the stove.

Mom taught me how to prepare meals on the stove in the kitchen, which was an art in itself; mom was learning how as I was so the process was a learning experience for both of us. Once you got the basics of cooking on a wood burning stove it was a simple procedure of moving pans to different parts of the cook top to keep the food from being over or under cooked. The neighbor lady took piety on us and gave us much needed lessons on this process as well as how to maintain the cast iron that the stove and pans were made of. After a while we even got good at baking. It became my job to have enough cookies made to supply school lunches until the school started providing meals for us.

Now many decades later I find myself needing to remember the process. I am helping a friend restore a wood burning cook stove and cast iron cookware. With the emergence of off the grid living and cooking, cast iron has a new popularity. The hard part is removing rust from older pieces. Most stoves and cookware were regulated to barns, sheds or basements and not maintained for constant use. You can buy new but it is very expensive, cast iron will last well over 100 years if maintained. Once the rust is removed you must re-season the cookware to be useable for humans. There are numerous Utube videos that will show you this labor intensive process but the end result is beautiful, long lasting, useable cookware.

The skills learned in childhood can be a useful camodity. It might take a bit of research to jump start the old memory but it is always in there to be brought to the surface.

FATHER – DAUGHTER DANCE

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I saw a sign on our local recreation center billboard stating a father daughter dance coming up. This instantly brought back to my memory my own father daughter dance when I was 9. It was sponsored by the brownie troop I belonged too. It was held at the local Masonic hall and was a dress up affair. I can remember feeling like a princess.

The hall was decorated like a fancy restaurant and we had a table to ourselves, just the two of us. The waiter led us to the table and held my chair out for me. There was a vase of fresh flowers on the table, real china and silverware. Music played softly in the back-ground; it was like a real date. Dad was so handsome in his suit and tie; He had black hair and eyes so dark they looked almost black also. He was a boxer and very strong. He had given me flowers to wear on my dress and he had one in the lapel of his coat. After dinner he even danced with me.

I am surprised that I remember so many details of that night 67 years ago. I am glad that I got to experience an evening like that as we lost dad only a few years later. He was always my closest friend; we had a special bond. I am sorry my sister didn’t get to experience a date night with our dad. She would have loved the occasion; dad could make you feel like you were the most special person on the planet at the time. He always had time for us kids no matter how busy he was.

My sister got to spend a lot of time with him on the farm before she started school. They were inseparable; she was like his shadow wherever he went. He bought her a pony and she went everywhere on it. It was a little white Arabian. She could go out to the pasture, call him and he would come over to her and stand very still so she could climb up his front leg. She would ride without a bridle or saddle. He would bite others but not dad or sis. If anyone else wanted to ride him either she or dad had to hold his head until the person got on. It was like they had to get permission from them before they were allowed to ride.

We lost both our parents at a very young age. So all we have are the memories we have to remind us that we were fortunate to have had loving parents who nurtured us and spent time with us. Kids today don’t often get that living in cities where parents have to work away from home just to make ends meet.

We can be assured that our father in heaven loves and cares about us. He brings to our memory those times in our past that we can hang on to. We can extend to others that precious commodity, our time.

Thank you for traveling down memory lane with me. Leave a comment and share a memory of your childhood with me.