Renaissance Woman

Small, Small World

2011-12-10T09:50:00.001-07:00

Peteetneet School in Payson, Utah

Last week I entertained a group of unaccompanied military personnel, which included a guy who lived in Payson, Utah. Not only did he live in Payson, but he and his family were involved in community theater there. When I told him that I had raised my four kids in Payson, and had worked in the community theater group, we began comparing names -- only to find that we know a lot of the same folks. Guess where he lived there? In the "scary" big blue house across the street from (north of) Peteetneet School. Of course, I knew exactly which house he was referring to. And when I told him which house had been mine, he knew which one it was, as well. Small, small world.

Polly Klass (1983-1993)

More "Small, Small World":
A few weeks ago, I read John Walsh's book on the history of his television program, "America's Most Wanted." He included the story of how AMW helped to find the killer of Polly Klaas in 1993. She was abducted from a sleepover in her own home in Petaluma, California.

One of my new friends here in Osan is a psychologist from Petaluma, California. She and I went to dinner the other night and I asked her about her involvement in this case. Polly was a classmate of my friend's children, and she herself was the psychologist who worked with the two girls who witnessed the kidnapping. She told me details about the story that helped me to understand that it wasn't a random event. But I also came to understand how such an event can damage and alter the lives of an entire community. My friend picked up her kids and moved out of Petaluma after it was over.

The world is a small place. Here I am in Korea, sharing what I have read about a murder, only to find that my friend and her kids are survivors of that ordeal. Wow. I feel really humble to know her, and to know that she helped the other families in some small measure.

Bok choy…who knew?

2011-11-16T05:49:00.001-07:00

The local Outback restaurant nearby serves some delectable side dishes with their steaks. That's how we discovered this wonderful delicacy that has eluded us until now. We now make these at home: take tiny heads of bok choy and cut them in half. Lay the flat side of the halves on the same grill as the steak and cook 2-3 min -- just until heated through, to give the greens a wonderful flavor while leaving it crisp and fresh. I never knew the flavors and textures of meat and veggies could combine this favorably!

I Love My Students!

2011-11-15T01:54:00.001-07:00

Can I just say that I love my students? For so many reasons, I just love these kids:

One of my 9th graders (whose single mom disowned him when he was 14) came up to me during lunch last week and gave me a big hug. I was so surprised, and delighted that he felt comfortable enough with me to do that. He came in a few days later and asked how my weekend had been. We had a good conversation about what we did over the weekend.
I gave my drama students (grades 9-12) the St. Crispian speech the first day of class. The second day of class, most of them came with it memorized. Enough so that we could perform it as an ensemble. It was awesome! They are the most cooperative, hard-working group of drama students I've ever had in class.
Last week, when the stress of directing five 1-act plays hit me, I barked at one of my actresses when she announced she was unable to come to the performance. I love that she accepted my apology, with tears running down her face. "You were so mean," she cried. "I know. I really don't like it when I say mean things. Please forgive me," I said. Tomorrow she's auditioning for our drama competition team.
The district superintendent came into my classroom today, to observe what was going on. The Smartboard was lit up, displaying the theme; the whiteboard was covered with questions; and all students were engaged in the learning process. Each student had an open text book, a notebook they were writing in, and listened carefully as our guests addressed them. I was so proud of their behavior!

Exercise! Exercise!

2011-11-15T01:22:00.001-07:00

No, I'm not talking about getting some. I'm just documenting the most recent Emergency Exercises being conducted in South Korea (ROK). Every few months our installation puts the military folks through their paces, bedecked in full head-to-toe combat gear, with weapons at the ready. And while every installation has readiness exercises, those in this country do things differently. Why? Well, having an aggressive communist-led nation just 60 miles away probably has something to do with the local modus operandi.

The day began at 5am, when we heard the air raid sirens on the base (2 miles away), accompanied by the big voice slowly enunciating: "Exercise! Exercise!" Went back to sleep, only to hear the call to action again at 5:45am and 6:30am. We took that in stride, and I made it to class by 8am. During the morning, my students clearly heard machines guns being fired on base. That got our attention -- didn't hear machine guns last time around. More sirens and machine guns throughout the day kept us on alert. At 2pm, the Republic of Korea (ROK) held their own readiness alert, with sirens in every community. Fifteen minutes later, everyone went back to business as usual.
The Korean people are so resilient - they take in stride these efforts that keep them safe. The exercises set one on alert, without setting them on edge. They endure the bullying from North Korea with stoicism. They put up with a tremendous U.S. presence in their communities and neighborhoods. We in the USA tend to be much less tolerant of the foreigners who "invade" our schools, workplaces, and neighborhoods. The next time you hear someone complaining about immigrants taking jobs, dropping our standardized test scores, and making too much noise at night, remind them (or yourself) that there are hundreds of thousands of Americans living abroad in much the same way. And most of us don't make the effort to learn the language of the people we're living around.
I am grateful to be in Korea, where it's nearly impossible to take for granted the security and well-being that our troops provide. I'm happy to be serving those who serve!

Kimchee et al

2011-11-12T06:20:00.001-07:00

Traditional Korean foods, handmade by a friend.

Koreans smell like kimchee. They probably don't realize it -- like Turks don't know they smell of mutton and garlic. All Koreans eat kimchee, everyday, with every meal. So it is no surprise they smell like kimchee. They make it with any vegetable available, soaked in a vat of vinegar, horseradish, garlic, red chili, and a smidge of sugar. They leave this to ferment in covered, brown clay pots on the porch for a given number of weeks. The end result smells a lot like offal. The above photo is a plate of food made by my Korean neighbor, hand delivered to us on a national holiday. If you look closely, you can see a veggie with a bite out of it. 'Nuff said. The white and purple egg-shaped balls are a desert that have no taste, but have the texture of playdough or silly putty. You might also notice there is no bite out of these delicacies. Hmmm. (Took one bite and tossed it.)

Kimchee display in the commissary on base.

So, what does someone smell like after a steady diet of kimchee? Well, let me share an anecdote from this week: I walked into a small room to make copies on the copy machine, and while waiting for my copies I became aware that the room smelled of skunk. I stopped dead in my tracks, because there's no way I could smell a skunk: there are no skunks in Korea. And since I knew I couldn't possibly smell of skunk, my powers of observation compelled me to turn around and notice a Korean student typing on the only computer in this tiny room.
Indulge me in one more anecdote, to prove I'm not a racist: I picked up fried chicken from a takeout shop last night. The chicken smelled great. When I got it home, the bag also contained an added surprise -- a container of white chunks in clear liquid. I hoped it might be raw potatoes to fry on stovetop. Alas, when the lid was removed, my dear husband gasped and asked, "Why does the kitchen smell like a dirty diaper?" Then he saw the take-out bonus -- kimchee. Fresh kimchee. Mmmmm.
I won't be eating kimchee anytime soon.

2011-09-24T18:11:00.000-06:00

Octoberfest in Seoul -- here are some photos of our most recent excursion to the BIG city. And "big" doesn't even begin to describe this amazing city. It makes Manhattan look like a hamlet. For $11 roundtrip, we take a 60-minute bus ride from Osan Air Base to the Yongsan army garrison in Seoul, which serves as the military HQ for the entire Korean peninsula, plus embassy housing. The hotel at Yongson is 4-star: The Dragon Hill Lodge.

We spent five hours visiting one of the best museums ever: the Korean Military History museum. It's beautiful, and hundreds of people visit it everyday.

Seoul is Nice

2011-08-24T04:45:00.001-06:00

I spent two days in Seoul last week, at an orientation workshop. They put me in a room on the top floor of the hotel -- a beautiful suite. Mark took these photos from our hotel room window. Above is the garden surrounding the hotel, and below is a skyline shot of Seoul. It spreads out for miles in all directions, but is really a beautiful city with lots of forests and parks everywhere, and through which the Han River runs.

School starts on the 28th, and my classroom is almost ready. I am teaching five different classes, so my prep time is pretty demanding. But we have lots of materials and many helpful co-workers who have offered to help out. I'm excited to meet my students next week. Stay tuned, because we'll post photos next week of the amazing apartment we're moving into. Love from Korea.

Why I Love My Classroom

2011-08-21T04:00:00.000-06:00

Every classroom in my school is equipped with a SmartBoard. If you know what that is, you are probably salivating. If you don't, take my word for it that every teacher in the USA should have one. Alas, DoDDS teachers have the best. That is why I love my classroom. Smart Boards in Classrooms

Bound for Korea

2011-08-03T18:53:00.000-06:00

After 4+ years looking out my office window, this Renaissance Woman has decided to accept a job offer in Korea, and my husband retired from his job of 33 years so he could go with me. Together we have watched his 19-year-old son struggle with his forced independence. It would be nice to coddle the baby of the family, but he needs to find his wings. Mark and I have given away enough "stuff" to fill one household, keeping just enough to make our new home in Korea comfortably austere. It does the soul good to let go of the familiar and to embrace the unknown. Wish us luck!

Normalcy in One Japanese Household

2011-04-08T13:07:00.000-06:00

Here's the latest update from my friends (The Harlows) in Yokohama, Japan:

Abbie was sitting at the dinner table the other night (because there is no other place to discuss this) and says, "I don't think you can make paper out of lion poop. You can make it from elephant poop and I think horse poop because they eat hay, but lions eat meat and their poop would just keep squashing and never create paper." Rather clever for a 5-year-old.

Then there's Alex, whose dad Ian is a PE teacher. Alex walks into the other PE teacher's office today and says (bold face): "So, my dad sent me in to ask for a sucker or some kind of candy or something. Do you know what he's talking about?" The PE teacher called BS on Alex's story, and Alex just laughed and walked away, but crap he's only seven. I know I should be mad because he really lied, but I couldn't help but laugh when Ian told me.

It's always fun to hear how the other half lives. I miss those guys!

Sisters without Sisters

2011-04-05T23:35:00.004-06:00

"SISTERLESS" -- Does this describe you? If so, please leave me a response of some sort. I'm writing a book about sisterless women.

Sewing Lessons

2011-03-18T07:10:00.001-06:00

Demeree (7) loves sewing. In addition to speaking Mandarin Chinese through her duel-immersion program at school, she takes dance and gymnastics. This is a pretty special little girl, but I'm her grandma, so I might be biased. Wait -- yep -- I'm biased.

News from Japan

2011-03-14T15:25:00.003-06:00

My "little sister" in Japan -- Brandie Harlow -- finally sent me some news from the Tokyo area. I had been so worried about her, Ian, and the kids. They live in Yokohama (near Tokyo); she teaches at Camp Zama Army Base, and her husband teaches at St. Mary's High School in Tokyo. Here is the update in her own words, as pieced together through a series of text messages yesterday/today:

You know me I don't care if you post stuff. If I end up with an STD, I might want to keep that a secret. Then again maybe not, because I'll turn it into an add for the hit man I'll hire to get my hubby! Sorry, but when I was using FaceBook, I was starting to notice some of my friends are not that bright, and I found myself struggling with not judging them. So I gave up FaceBook.

We have had countless aftershocks, some higher than others, but enough to make you stop and be very aware of your surroundings. My kids are both funny. We just had another big, but short tremor and Alex (7) said, "We might want to consider moving to another country." I told him I'd mull it over. And Abbie said, “If the earth doesn't stop shaking, we are going to be obliterated.” Nice word for a five year old, eh?

[With regard to the Sendai earthquake and our situation in Tokyo,] we are waiting to see what they decide with the second explosion, but as of now we are still in school working and all is normal. I'd like to have you here and put your spin on our little situation here. The Japanese and most Americans are staying calm, but the Canadians and the Germans (the ones we know anyway) are fleeing. Most are leaving the country. I guess Japan could use extra money right now, and all [the fleeing foreigners’] extra money going toward travel is a good thing. They are also not here using electricity, which is great, too. Rolling blackouts feel [?] because you have policemen waiting at every stop light for the traffic lights to go out.

Alex is just excited that their school was canceled for the next two weeks. Their Spring Break was already scheduled for next week, so they have canceled school for this week too. I had several teachers from his school calling to ask me if all was ok, and if we were getting evacuated. I kept telling them all was fine and we weren't getting evacuated, but they still panicked and left [the foreigners teaching in

Japan

To give you an idea of how crazy some of the non-Japanese have been acting: One mom slept under her kitchen table with her kids Friday night because she was so scared. She was complaining that her “kids were scared.” Hmm, curious as to why they might be frightened. Ok, sorry I sound like a snot right now. Tires will probably be melted to the ground in the morning when I'm trying to leave for work. It won't be the radiation though; it will be God smiting me for being mean.

More silly stories later! Hugs and kisses to all.

The Audacity Never Ends

2011-02-12T10:21:00.001-07:00

I asked Gail Sheehey for an interview. FYI: She is in the same league as Dr. Maya Angelou, in my life, but for different reasons. Just as Maya continues to inspire me, Gail teaches me, about womanhood and life. When I was a young mother, stuck at home 24/7 with four babies, Gail's book Passages gave me perspective and allowed me to enjoy those precious moments with my beloved children. She assured me that the scriptural assertion is true -- "to everything there is a season"-- and that each season was divine in its own right. I knew that when those wonderful days of mothering my little ones was over, I would have a life of my own design. When, at last, I chose to end my miserable first marriage, Gail was there with New Passages: Mapping Your Life Across Time. She introduced me to the three adulthoods, assuring me that my passage into my second adulthood was natural and would likely produce positive results. Again, she was so right. (P.S. - Helen Keller, Burt Bacharach, Stephen Sondheim, Maya Angelou, Boyd Gaines -- my audacity has enabled me to rub shoulders with these legends in my lifetime.)

Paying Rent

2011-02-06T23:52:00.001-07:00

"Service is the rent we pay for living." --Marian Wright Edelman (activist/author)
Giving back is one way of performing service. Do it. Do it today. Then do it again tomorrow. Then the next day. It will become a habit. And what better habit can one develop than serving others? "What do we live for, if not to make the world a little easier for others?" (unknown)

Throw Something Back

2011-02-02T10:54:00.001-07:00

"I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back." - Maya Angelou

My mother believed that giving back was an essential part of mortality. She tried to convince me of this at a time when I was quite emotionally wounded, so I told her I felt no such obligation. I have come to eat those bitter words many times in the years since I spoke them to my very disappointed mother. She called me "Kathleen" when I frustrated or disappointed her, which was regularly. (That her expectations were pretty high is beside the point.)

I get paid to work with a population of adults with learning disabilities. That is my profession. But it is more than that: it is my calling. I have been blessed with the opportunity to serve daily, to administer to the needs of the less fortunate, and to pour a balm of love and understanding on their wounded spirits. It is my joy and pleasure. It is my way of throwing something back. Thank you, Dr. Angelou, for reminding me of my mother's admonition. I love you both!

Proud Mother

2011-02-01T09:11:00.001-07:00

http://100x100forhaiti.blogspot.com/
My son Joel and his wife Mandi remain actively engaged in helping the children of Haiti. After two trips to Haiti since the earthquake in Jan 2010, Joel and Mandi have set up a donation blog where others can contribute to the supplies needed to educate these mostly-homeless children. I am so proud of my kids for making time to serve others in a way that Christ would. A wise person once wrote, "What are we here for, if not to make the world a little easier for others?" Amen.
To donate, please go to http://www.ffcin.com/donate.html.

Out of the Mouths of My Kids

2010-12-08T22:38:00.002-07:00

Every now and again one of my children will surprise me with an affectionate letter, like this one from my daughter when she was in high school. My sardonic side surmises this was an assignment for everyone in the class, but my warm fuzzy side indulges in thinking it's a lasting sentiment:
Dear Mom, I just finished reading The Color of Water in English. It is a black man's tribute to his mother. The book made me think about you many times. I want to tell you how much I love you. This book made me realize how lucky I am to have a wonderful mom. All of my friends have good relationships with their mothers, but none of theirs is as good as ours. I am so thankful that we are so close and can share all our lives with each other. You are an awesome mother; you always comfort me when I need it and I appreciate that a lot. Thanks for being one of the best moms in the world. Love, Rachel.

Today, Rachel sent me an email that revealed how much alike we are:
Dear Mom, John Lennon died 30 years ago today. I realized that it is very possible that i was conceived 30 years ago today too. How long does one's soul/spirit stay in the in-between state before being reincarnated? 'Cause if it's not very long, I'm probably John Lennon. Which explains why you love me so much and also explains why I'm the only person on the planet who thinks Yoko Ono is hot.

One day in 1989, my oldest son said, "I'm surprised you don't have the phone taped to your head, Dad." Yeah, he spent a LOT of time on the phone while at home. Quality time with the fam? Not so much. But I wrote that "hardly a day goes by that Lynn and I don't get a compliment on our children, individually and collectively."

Another 1989 journal entry: Tonight driving with just Rachel in the car, I asked her what she would do if I died. She answered, "I'd cry and cry." "Yes, but what would you do when you stopped crying?" She said, "I wouldn't stop crying." Then she asked me, "What would you do if I died?" After thinking about it for a moment, I told her how empty I would feel to have all my hopes and dreams for her unfulfilled, and that I would always look at her picture and wonder how beautiful she would have been if she had grown up. What a macabre conversation for a mother and 8 year old daughter to share.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?

Losing My Mind, Finding My Mind

2010-12-07T14:21:00.003-07:00

You said you loved me,
Or were you just being kind?
Or am I losing my mind? (from Follies by Stephen Sondheim)

I spent the entire 1980s wondering if I was crazy. My husband never missed an opportunity to voice his doubts about my mental health. One journal entry from 1980 reads: It's 11:30pm and both twins are screaming their guts out for God-knows-what-reason. I think I'm having a nervous breakdown -- so depressed I can't pull myself out of it. Lots of self pity, frustration, and loneliness....Lynn and I love each other, but we are in two different worlds: his at school teaching, trying to be outstanding in his field and make a name for himself and his students; and me at home 24/7, my hands might as well be tied to my ankles, that's how frustrated I feel. I don't dare talk to anyone about this. They would think I'm crazy, too...I'm just stuck meeting needs of others around the clock, with no help. Even my wonderful Ryan irritates me! (If the babies don't stop crying pretty soon, I'm afraid Lynn with hurt them.) I want to go home to my old bedroom and leave my kids with Mom for a little while. Till I can breath again and sit in a chair for five minutes without twisting my hair, rocking, or biting my mouth. Till I can look in the mirror and smile at myself and say, "You're looking good and doing a great job." I just need a little help. A few weeks later, I wrote more: I went to a counseling center and it helped for a week or so. When I was supposed to go back, I couldn't because Lynn wouldn't come home from school in time for me to make it to my appointment. He had the car....I'm thinking seriously about leaving, but I can't figure out if I'm doing it to punish Lynn for leaving me so much, or if it will really do me good. My mood swings are terrible -- either very high or very low, not much in between. That's what I need help with.

As I re-read those comments, I recognize the despair and exhaustion that went on for weeks, then months, and eventually years. In the middle of all that, I snatched moments of happiness with my babies and through performing in musical theater. I have made hundreds of friends over the years through my involvement with community and educational theater organizations and productions. During the summer of 1980, I played Guinevere in "Camelot", and wrote about it: It has been overwhelming for me to receive so much praise and recognition for my talents....Acting with David Larson (Arthur) is discovering "communion" (according to Stanislavski). It has been a thrill forming a real relationship on stage, one that permeates every motivation, physical or mental....Lynn and I have gone through a very trying and difficult stage (since when is that new) this summer. But we stay together because we love each other and the kids.

In late 1980, we had sex for what would be the last time in three years. Nine months later, my longed-for daughter joined us. I wrote this while pregnant with Rachel: I pray for a peace of mind and well-being about this new baby. I'm reminded of a vision I had before I married Lynn: a distinct image of little boys surrounding a girl in the middle. I believed then, and still now, that those were the children I had been promised from God. This is the last baby I will have, and I'm happy to be able to make that choice. I pray for the strength I will need to mother four babies under five, each one needing so much mothering, instruction, affection, encouragement, and positive re-inforcement. And my husband with his needs -- although I must admit that I don't know what they are. I pray I will be able to know his needs and meet them. My needs will be met if I can just continue with my education. It means a lot to me, and I will continue to work at it....My boys are all so very sweet and precious. I find myself thinking so more and more each day. Perhaps because I feel time is running out for each of them to have his "special time" before another baby gets here. I hope my special times with my children never run out. I can see myself enjoying them even more as they become more independent.

I had only two real problems as a young mother of four babies: First, they hadn't invented Prozac yet. My life changed for the better when I got me some of that stuff. A lot less yelling went on at home, and a lot more laughter bounced around the walls. Second, I desperately needed a sister and didn't have one. I didn't even have a "sister friend" like those I have today. I needed the emotional support of family and friends. The closest I got to that was my mother's letters, which I have kept to this day. They were full of wisdom, love, admiration, and advice. I hung on her every word. And I didn't lose my mind. My prayers were answered, and I got stronger. Patti Lupone (Memoir) says of enduring hardship, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but it can almost kill you before you get stronger!" I didn't go crazy. That was my triumph in the early 1980s; I stayed sane.
We lived in a small town (less than 10,000 people in those days), a town that held sacred its long-time cliques, to which I was never invited, in spite of my attempts to permeate their borders. I even ran for city council at one point. We raised our four children on the safe streets and parks of that community. We produced and performed in dozens of community theater productions there. And we made friends among all social strata in town. It was a good place to raise children and make friends. After eleven years in Payson, we moved to a university town about 30 miles away. That was refreshing, because our new neighborhood was much more diverse. The children spent their teenage years in that community, where they felt secure, loved, and accepted. Each of our children enjoyed academic success and participated in sports and arts programs. Well-rounded we were. Dysfunctional, but dammit, well-rounded!

Three Degrees of Theater Separation

2010-12-05T20:37:00.001-07:00

Anyone who spends a lifelong career in theater is never more than three degrees of separation from any other theater professional. While reading Patti LuPone's Memoir, I realized that she once performed at my university, in a repertory troupe from Julliard, in Chekhov's The Three Sisters. I remember the production vividly -- it was the first well-acted Chekhovian drama I'd ever seen. Patti LuPone also writes about her Gypsy leading man, Boyd Gaines, a Tony-award-winning actor I once had lunch with in New York City. And she's right: Boyd is a wonderful man.

Everyone in professional theater knows others in the pool of directors, teachers, musicians, writers, designers, and actors. Many times -- more than I can count -- I've been watching television or a film and recognized one of my former theater associates. I did my MA at the same school with director Neil Labute, and even had one class with him. A few years later, I watched an in-flight special on Labute while flying home from Japan. I resisted the urge to stand up and announce to the other passengers that he and I had gone to school together.

Then there are all the talented people whose names I expected to see in lights, but never have. My college roommate, Nita McKenzie comes to mind first. Nita had more talent than the other actresses in our department, because she could do drama, comedy, and sing. Plus she was attractive -- well, on the outside. Roger MacDonald was another "star" in our university firmament, whose talent could have made his name a household word, but for some reason did not. I hope they are both doing well in their lives.

On the other hand, some of the theater folks I've known have moved on to orbit the planet outside theater. Award-winning writer Orson Scott Card (Ender's Game) was a member of our theater department as well. He wrote plays, and occasionally acted. Our social circle included a number of exceptionally talented writers, musicians, composers, artists, and performers. Composer/lyricist Robert Stoddard is a university theater professor. John Belingheri's art, which he pursued as an undergraduate in our group, is displayed in commercial settings across the country--even seen in tv commercials. Some of the most talented people I've worked with are no longer alive. A few passed away from AIDS in the 1990s. I miss them and what they might have contributed had they lived longer.

It becomes clear that we theater folk don't need more than two or three degrees to connect us with anyone else in the theater world. Mind you, I'm not talking about Hollywood and film. That's another universe.

Chapter 1: The Apple Tree

2010-11-27T03:05:00.001-07:00

   "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," they say. That's a daunting thought for one whose parents were polar opposites. Mom was the only child of educated working parents who met in college, who raised her to marry well -- a doctor, lawyer, or some other respected professional. My mother, Olive May Hiday, graduated second in her class at Stanford University in 1950, and went on to pursue her career as a Registered Nurse. Her life changed soon after, when she accepted a blind date with a GI. Jim looked like a young Clark Gable, with a winning grin, gregarious personality, and an innocence that would be hard to find today.
   Dad was raised in Arkansas and Louisiana, to sharecropper parents who depended on their only son's help in the fields, and later in their cafe. He paid his way through adolescence working odd jobs, eventually dropping out of high school in 10th grade to work fulltime. Substance abuse was not a rarity in the deep south during the 1940s, and Dad's family suffered from his father's morphine addiction that wreaked havoc on his relationship with his wife, his only daughter, and my dad. So Jim moved to California in 1948 and joined the U.S. Army, where he was stationed at San Francisco's Army Presidio. And the rest is history.
   They married in November 1950, and my brother Paul was born the following June. Years later, after counting up the months, I asked Paul if he realized that he was born seven months after Mom and Dad married. He casually answered, "Yeah." And that was the end of that discussion, until a few years later when Mom brought up the subject.
   "When I brought your dad home to meet my parents, they nearly passed out at your dad's strong southern drawl. He was not what they had in mind for me. And they put up such a fuss about my liking him, that a few months later they insisted I end the relationship. Instead, I got pregnant so they couldn't do anything about it. And that's why they never liked your dad." What a way to start a marriage and family!
   They settled into life in a San Francisco apartment, which cost them $25/month. But things quickly changed for them. Six weeks after Paul was born, Dad received his orders to serve in Korea. It was the height of the Korean "War" Conflict, and my 22-year-old father was unprepared for the horrors of war. Fifty years later, in 2001, Dad sat in my living room and began talking about the war to my children. His assignments had included guarding Chinese prisoners, and setting detonations. For the latter job, he used needle-nosed pliars, an item coveted by one of the other GIs. So, Dad requisitioned another pair and gave them to his comrade. When Dad finished telling the next part of the story, describing how the kid used the pliars to pry gold teeth from dead Koreans and Chinese, Dad's voice choked with emotion and his eyes filled with tears. Fifty years -- that's a long time to carry around the names of fellow soldiers whose actions shattered Dad's innocence.
   My mother kept all the letters Dad sent from Korea. I transcribed them for him after she died and he re-read them. One letter contained information that explained why Dad had refused to talk about the war when we kids were little. One night the 700 Chinese prisoners his platoon was guarding escaped and scattered in all directions. The American soldiers had no recourse but to "mow them down." He continued by saying that "if the tables had been turned, it would have been much worse" for the American soldiers. I am certain the months spent in Korea changed my father profoundly, and that he returned to my mother a different man than the one she had fallen in love with. The whirlwind romance was over, and a mixture of oil and water was left in its wake.
   My parents conceived me in the summer of 1952, just after Dad returned from Korea. That year, more than 250,000 new cases of poliomyelitus infected Americans, mostly children. Since the early 1900s, cases of polio grew in ever-increasing numbers year after year. Research scientists raced against the clock to find a vaccine that would protect children worldwide from the ravages of this terrible, infectious disease that was often fatal. Mom had been working as an RN and knew the symptoms. So when she suddenly experienced a severe headache and a painfully stiff neck, she knew immediately that it was polio. Pregnant and scared, Olive was hospitalized in an effort to keep the symptoms from spreading. In the end, Mom suffered paralysis of her chest, neck, arm, and facial muscles. Unable to brush her teeth, she would later be forced to have her top teeth pulled and replaced with dentures. That changed her facial appearance dramatically. Furthermore, she was given large quantities of codeine to treat the pain of the polio, and when I was born she worried that the narcotics would leave me with long-term damage.
   I was born in March 1953, but it would be several months before Mom regained enough strength in her arms to lift and hold me. Dad was now a civilian working on a newly-opened air force base in Sacramento, California. They bought a house just a mile from the base, which enabled Dad to come home on his lunch hour to feed Paul and me, change our diapers, and help mom take care of personal and bathroom needs. "I had to hook her bra for her. I did everything," Dad would remind me years later. It's a tribute to that generation of Americans who took their responsibilities to family and country to be sacred and binding.
   My brother John came along 1955, completing our branch of the Jimison family. I used to beg my mother to have another baby, so that I could have a sister. Her response was always the same: "Your dad doesn't want another baby." And my retort was always the same: "Well, ask him again!" I remained the only daughter of an only daughter. No sisters in our line.
   Over the years, Mom exhibited what I considered odd quirks, but were actually residual effects of the polio. When she swallowed, her throat made a gulping sound. And she would have to hold her head up with her left hand, while feeding herself with the right. She couldn't lift her arms above her head to curl her own hair, so I learned at a young age how to pin curl Mom's hair. And when she reached overhead for anything from the kitchen cupboards, she had to push up one arm with the other in order to grab hold of her intended target.
   And so began my parents' marriage. It was a marriage filled with bickering and too little friendship, but it lasted 34 years. They divorced when I was 30 years old. Their relationship, however, remained intact until Mom's death in 2004. Dad followed in 2008. They are buried together in Sacramento.

Stunt Wife

2010-11-05T00:49:00.000-06:00

   Stunt Wife is a term I coined to describe women/girls who provide a front for gay husbands who aren't yet ready to step through the closet door into the light of day. In college I discovered the concept of "stunt dates" -- the girls who went out with gay guys to important events, galas, formal affairs, and the like. So, when my husband decided to come out of the closet -- without asking my permission, of course -- my cynicism led me to invent the title "Stunt Wife" for myself. Over the years, I've enjoyed using it in casual conversation, evoking chuckles from all kinds of folks.
   I've met many stunt wives over the years, because I'm not afraid to mention my past life. In fact, sharing with people "my first husband was gay" is an amazing tool for perpetuating conversation when there's not much to lose. And that's how I have come to meet so many others who have chimed in, "Really? So was mine!" or "Oh yeah? Mine was a cross dresser." And the conversation ensues.
   Being a stunt wife is no fun. In fact, it's a nightmare for most women. However, having a gay ex-husband has its advantages. The greatest advantage to having a gay ex-husband is that one never, never runs out of fodder for humor. Gay humor is delightful if honed well, and I pride myself on having honed this skill over the decade since I divorced my first husband and officially ended my run in the play known as "Stunt Wife for Life."
   This book will chronicle the events that led to my dating and marrying a young gay man, through our twenty years together raising our four children and pursuing our his-and-hers careers as high school theater teachers. It will include excerpts from the journals I kept throughout this same period, as well as during the divorce and my subsequent marriage. This second marriage provides the second half of this book's title: "Leading Lady," which is the role I now play. So, readers have something to look forward to that resembles a real life happily-ever-after story.
   I'd like to thank my dear friends who have encouraged me to pursue this project, in spite of my busy schedule. Thanks to Jeannette Walls for inspiring me to go ahead and write my memoir as a series of blog entries. Thanks to my soul mate, Susan Salgy, for reading and commenting on manuscript pages; to Carrie Sutanto for helping me focus my sardonic tone; and to my writing students whose own courage in writing about their lives emboldened my commitment to complete this project. Thanks to my mother, who provided a listening ear throughout the dark years. And thanks to my husband Mark for his patience while I relived some of the events that led to my Post Traumatic Stress (PTSD). I am grateful to be his Leading Lady.
   Women who survive such relationships may do so with the help of a support system, but they always carry the emotional scars of their ordeal. I will do my utmost to share these issues frankly and with as much veracity as I can muster from my journals and my memory. And I promise to embue this story with as much humor as I can muster, so don't take my too seriously.
   I dedicate this book to the women who most need to read it -- wives of gay men. God bless you!

Bucket List: One More Down

2010-04-27T01:20:00.001-06:00

Playing Dolly Levi isn't on the Bucket List of many women. But when the opportunity to audition for "Hello Dolly" presented itself here in my cute little bedroom community, I couldn't resist auditioning. Who knew I'd be cast in this wonderful role? I have loved this musical since my undergraduate days in college theater, and learning the music will be just brushing up on songs I've known for years. This is going to be the most delightful theater experience of my life. Why? Because I get to play a "wonderful woman" who doesn't have to look young or thin, whose dancing is simple, and who sings beautiful songs but doesn't have to have the best voice in the show. Whew! Is this living, or what?!!

When my children learned that I will be playing Dolly, they each called to congratulate me. I'm really touched that they are sharing in my excitement. It's been many, many years since I performed in a musical, but my kids remember seeing me on stage from the time they were very small. It was just what we did in our family -- summer theater, community theater, etc. This time around, however, my granddaughters will get a chance to see Grandma Kelli in a new light. We open on July 9th. Come see it!

Home Movies

2010-04-05T20:38:00.003-06:00

I had not seen my grandmother nor her mother in over 34 years-- until last night. My brother hung a sheet on the wall and surprised me with long-lost home videos of these two paragons of womanhood. In living color, smiling as they posed for the video, stood Hazel Clella Hinds Hiday (my grandmother) and Maude Elizabeth Baker Hinds (my great grandmother) just as I have remembered them looking. Like an apparition, the image of these cherished loved ones gave me chills and brought tears to my eyes. Because of the influence of Hazel and Maude, I am who and what I have become in life.

Both these women died in 1976, a year before I had my first baby. But I have carried them with me through every day of my life. According to one playwright, "Death does not end a relationship" and I can attest to that. One does not stop loving one's ancestors just because they have passed on. In fact, I have lived my life in a way that they modeled for me. Hazel demanded obedience to social mores and self-control; yet she indulged my girly imagination and playfulness. Maude displayed an elegance I have rarely observed in my contemporaries. She was ever busy, reading a book, embroidering a tablecloth or bedspread, or crocheting something wonderfully intricate to give to the newest bride in the family. So different from one another, they got along wonderfully. I never heard the slightest inkling of a cross word exchanged between my great grandmother and any of her children or grandchildren. And my grandmother, although demanding and obstinate, was never unkind in my line of sight.
My father told the story of his first meeting of Hazel. She had raised her only daughter to marry a doctor, which is surely why she sent my mother to Stanford University for her nursing degree. When that daughter brought home a semi-literate hillbilly from Arkansas, my grandmother took one look at him, grunted, and walked away from the door leaving my grandfather to run interference. It went downhill from there, since my mother married him a few months later.

Today I am Grandma Kelli -- based partly on the role model Hazel provided for me: nurturing, loving, indulgent. As I age, I hope to become the grandmother that Maude was: patient, kind, giving, and always busy.

A Letter from Otto Frank

2010-03-17T15:27:00.003-06:00

I have completed my article for the Utah Shakespearean Festival, regarding the history of Anne Frank's diary. It has been an inspiring journey to look back on the evolution of the legacy left by this young woman. Today, however, I received an email from a contact in London regarding the first staged production of "The Diary of Anne Frank" back in 1960. I am on pins and needles waiting to hear back from this person, and to receive a copy of the handwritten letter that Otto Frank sent to these pioneering actors, thanking them for honoring Anne's memory through theater.
Some genetic marker on my DNA allows me to experience a sort of rapture when I connect with primary research (the original source). Like the day I looked upon a page from Anne's diary, and examined her penmanship, her Dutch language, and the age spots on the paper. I'm a freak of nature, except among fellow-historians. Anyway, today is a good day. (sigh)

The Humble Workers

2010-02-01T09:12:00.001-07:00

Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work. Mother Teresa

I'm so proud of my son who has decided to travel to Haiti to assist in the rebuilding efforts. If you can donate toward this, even if you have already donated, go to this informative website about the mission group Joel is going with. http://www.ffcin.org/

"Mansplainer" is the Word of the Week

2010-01-27T23:19:00.002-07:00

Mansplaining isn't just the act of explaining by a male, of course; many men manage to explain things every day without insulting their listeners. Mansplaining is when a dude tells you, a woman, how to do something you already know how to do, or how you are wrong about something you are actually right about, or miscellaneous and inaccurate "facts" about something you know a hell of a lot more about than he does.

Bonus points if he is explaining how you are wrong about something being sexist!

Think about the men you know. Do any of them display that delightful mixture of privilege and ignorance that leads to condescending, inaccurate explanations, delivered with the rock-solid conviction of rightness and that slimy certainty that he is right, because he is the man in this conversation?

Well, then that dude is a mansplainer.

I will start us off with a few recent examples. These come from Suzanne E. Franks' science blog (go figure). I hope these might enlighten a few women who struggle to live with one of these creatures.

1. You MUST explain why everything I said is beside the point, and wrong, and silly.

2. You MUST explain why you are not a mansplainer, then re-explain things to the wimminz. Also, call them sexist.

3. You MUST explain that you mansplain because you assume that blogs are written by men, then re-explain things to the wimminz AGAIN.

4. Ignore everything everyone says, then accuse everyone else of being sexist to you. Follow this with some SERIOUS explaining! Teh wimminz are slow, but they will surely understand someday! Because you are a MAN! And you are SPLAININ'!

Kindness -- the Elusive Treasure

2010-01-16T07:38:00.002-07:00

Guard well within yourself that treasure: kindness. Know how to give without hesitation, how to lose without regret, how to acquire without meanness. - George Sand

George Sand hit on something very dear to my heart --the elusive virtue that seems always to dangle just out of my reach. Kindness. I have known and loved many "kind" people, and I have knowingly sought to emulate them in demeanor, word, and action. Alas, my efforts seem always to be in vain. If, in the end, when I am laid to rest -- if then but one person describes me as kind I will have been successful in my quest for kindness. But let's be honest: You and I both know that's not gonna happen!

Etymology -- don't you just love that word?

2009-12-16T11:54:00.002-07:00

"This is the whole ballgame," said Brian Brown, executive director of the National Organization for Marriage, which has spent more than $600,000 in radio and TV ads and robo-calls against same-sex marriage. "If it's signed into law, we have a long hard slog to shift the nature of the Legislature," he said. “If we win this vote, this is dead for the next four years."

Brian, Brian, Brian. Settle down. It seems to me that same-sex marriages are an eventuality. So, why fight it? Save your money for weightier matters. Besides, straight folks have nothing to fear from such legalized alliances. And more power to them – maybe the success rates among GLBT-couples will surpass those of hetero-couples. Now THAT wouldn’t be too difficult! What's the current divorce rate in the US? According to YahooAnswers (and they know EVERYTHING), 49.1% of all hetero marriages end in divorce (2007). But there are bigger fish to fry when it comes to same-sex marriage. Like, what do they call their partners? Let's take a look at the etymology of Partner-esque terms.

I've had a while to mull this over, and I believe my suggestions might make things easier for all married couples – straight and GLBT. Let’s create new labels for the spouses in same-sex marriages, without calling them “husbands” or “wives.” Heaven knows GLBTs don’t use those terms. Consider the following:

Male partner/gay husband = Gusband or Gife. As in -- “I, Steven, take you, Paul, to be my lawfully wedded gusband…”
It wouldn’t really work to use “gouse” or “douse" or "louse” because those words actually exist and mean something else. But “gusband” and “gife” have been newly-created for the express purpose of clarifying marriage partners in 21st Century fashion.

Female partner = Dusband or Dife. As in – “I, Debra, take you, Phyllis, to be my lawfully wedded dife…”
While “lusband” might work, “life” and "louse" have been overused and already have too many meanings—I’m sure you’ll agree—which leaves us with logical choices: “dusband” or “lusband” for men, and "gife" or “dife” for women. The purist might wish to stick with "partner" but that is just so country-western. And we know there are no GLBT cowboys! Nevertheless, I offer "gartner" and "lartner" for consideration, knowing full well that no one would use those labels.

There you have it! Please leave you comment, expressing your preferences for any of the terms listed here. And by all means, feel free to offer some of your own. (Be kind, please.)

Vote for your favorite: DUSBAND LUSBAND DIFE GIFE

From Stunt Wife to Leading Lady

2009-12-02T13:37:00.002-07:00

I just read about a book called Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure (copywright Smith Magazine, 2008). How delighted am I that my own memoir's title is exactly six words?! If you are interested in previewing pages to Stunt Wife..., let me know and I'll send you a chapter, but you must promise to read and respond immediately. The book will be going to print in 2010.

Here are a few more six-word zingers you might enjoy:
"How do we get outa here?" - Joel Frost repeated all the way through the Haunted Mansion at Disneland.

"Revenge is living well, without you." - Joyce Carol Oates, one of my favorite authors, who has obviously been through at least one divorce!

"We were our own Springer episode." - Michelle Hoogerwerf (or could have been written by one of my step children).

"Mom died. Dad screwed us over." - Leslie Kysely (Damn - I wish we'd had this enscribed on my parents' shared headstone!)

"Life is short, so laugh more." -- Kelli Allred

The Value of Time

2009-11-25T09:31:00.002-07:00

To realize

The value of a sister/brother

Ask someone

Who doesn't have one.

To realize

The value of ten years:

Ask a newly

Divorced couple.

To realize

The value of four years:

Ask a graduate.

To realize

The value of one year:

Ask a student who

Has failed a final exam.

To realize

The value of nine months:

Ask a mother who gave birth to a stillborn.

To realize

The value of one month:

Ask a mother

Who has given birth to

A premature baby.

To realize

The value of one week:

Ask an editor of a weekly newspaper.

To realize

The value of one minute:

Ask a person

Who has missed the a train, bus or plane..

To realize

The value of one-second:

Ask a person

Who has survived an accident.

Time waits for no one.

Treasure every moment you have.

You will treasure it even more when

You can share it with someone special.

To realize the value of a friend or family member:

Lose one.

Not really sure why I keep blogging, since no one seems to be reading these anymore. But Facebook and Twitter are so not me. I like my relationships one-on-one, not a popularity contest. If you stop by, leave a quick note.

My Hero Still Lives

2009-11-18T20:39:00.001-07:00

After too many years, I ran into one of my lifelong heroes today -- he's still alive! Lael Woodbury, now age 81, was the finest professor I had the honor of learning from. By the time I entered the theater program in the 1970s, Lael no longer taught under-graduate courses, so I had to wait until my Masters program to earn the privilege of learning from this man. I had him for four separate courses. I treasured each hour I spent under his tutelage. He made me a better student, and a better teacher. Most of all, he made me a better person.

One day while visiting him after my divorce, he suggested that I write about my experiences from a personal perspective. I have held onto that urging for over a decade, and today when we spoke, I told him that I'm finally in the midst of writing about it. He smiled approvingly.

This was a good day. I thank God for allowing me the tender mercy of today's chance encounter. It was good for all three of us.

Memoir Writers and My Own Propinquities

2009-11-04T22:17:00.001-07:00

http://thesisterproject.com/roach/memoir-tip-think-with-propinquity/ The Sister Project fell into my lap as I feverishly searched for material to pad my chapters in Creating Sisters. The Roach sisters offer a pleasant side-dish story about one memorable Thanksgiving. It reminded me of my first Christmas in Japan:

After a year of sporadic employment -- thanks to terrorists in airplanes -- I was tapped out. When the government offered me a two-year contract teaching in Japan, I jumped at it. Steady income for two years AND world travel. With my credit cards maxed out, I left my husband behind, stateside, and moved to another continent to work and to salve my financial wounds. Month after month, I was able to pay off and catch up on my bills, one at a time. It felt good, until the holidays approached. My friends and co-workers, also Americans, selected their vacation destinations, paid for tickets, and left the country for exotic global adventures. I remained in my apartment, with no money for travel -- not even enough to fly home for the holidays.

Not only did I find myself alone on Christmas, but I didn't have a single present to unwrap. (Must have seemed like too much trouble to find something, wrap it, and mail it to Japan). So I lay on in front of the television the livelong day, watching Japanese television, and reminding myself how I got there. "God binds us so He can free us; Satan frees us so he can bind us." I had misused my financial freedom over the past few years, so that now I had no financial choices left. Never again, I promised myself, would I allow this to happen.

December 26th wasn't quite as bad as the 25th, and a few days later my daughter arrived to share my Japan experience for a few weeks before her next college semester would commence. With payday on December 31st, we entertained ourselves with daytrips into Tokyo. The wisdom I gained that Christmas prepared me for the healing and peace of mind that I had longed for. When I returned to life as before -- after spending THREE years in Japan -- I had changed profoundly. But I'll save that for another day...

Friends

2009-10-27T13:30:00.002-06:00

Happiness keeps you Sweet
Trials keep you Strong
Sorrows keep you Human
Failures keep you Humble
Success keeps you Glowing
But Only Friends Keep You Going!

So many words, so little time

2009-10-15T14:08:00.001-06:00

I keep praying that someone will drop a basket of money on my porch so that I can take six months off work to write the three books that are swimming around in my head. What, you ask, could you possibly want to write about that would take six months? And here they are:

Stunt Wives is a 2-act comedy about women surviving their abusive relationships with gay men. It pokes fun at a lot of painful stuff, but in the end honors the survivors. (sigh)
Creating Sisters is a non-fiction book about how sisterless women create sisters out of friends and other relatives; nevertheless, they view the world very differently from women with sisters. Based on case studies, multi-generational sisterless families, and personal interviews.
It Was a Very Good Year is the title of my memoir, based on 40+ years of journals. Each chapter is titled for a Frank Sinatra song title, hence the book's title. I just finished 1969 -- now, THAT was a very good year.

If I could stop working and concentrate on any one of the books, I would be in heaven. There's just not enough emotional and physical stamina left in me at the end of a work day to allow me the luxury of writing in the evenings. I even tried pulling some all-nighters, then going to work. That, needless to say, proved poor judgment on my part. So, I will have to continue writing piecemeal until one of them is ready for the literary agent. Finding a literary agent requires hours and hours and hours of reading and writing in and of itself. The process is arduous, doubtful, and costly (if not in money, then in effort that could be used to write!). If you know a L.A. who is looking to represent another new author, please send them a link to this blog. I'll bake you a loaf of bread and send it Overnight.

Happy Birthday, Dancing Girl!

2009-09-03T11:11:00.004-06:00

My wonderful daughter was born this day, 28 years ago. Can that possibly be? The little girl who loved to dance and sing is grown up, and not before my eyes. I went to work when she was 2; I went back to school when she was 4. I began teaching when she was 6 and worked fulltime until she was 14. Then the dark years of separation and divorce. If that wasn't enough, I remarried and saw her leave my home; I left the country when she was 20 and came back to a daughter I don't know.

A mother should not leave her child for a job or an education. A mother should not be emotionally absent to her growing child; she should not remarry before her child is old enough to leave home. A mother should not put her own needs and dreams ahead of her child's heart. One of them will be shattered. A mother should not feel the loss of a child who is still living. Nor regret. Nor guilt. Nor sadness at the memories.

Though our lives no longer connect, my heart will never let go of my little girl nor my woman- daughter. Happy Birthday, darling girl. I love you. I miss you.

2009-08-05T09:57:00.005-06:00

Meet my new granddaughter, Audrey Zelphia Frost.

"What a wonderful phenomenon it is, carefully considered, when the human eye, that jewel of organic structures, concentrates its moist brilliance on another human creature!" (Tom Mann)

Joy

2009-06-23T15:51:00.004-06:00

"Experience is a brutal teacher. But you learn. By God, you learn." -- C.S.Lewis

Everything I've ever read by this man has changed me in some small way. He just GOT IT - what it means to be human. He figured it out, not on his own, and not without heartache, but he learned. By God he learned.

Do a search on this man and find out more about him. Then read one of his books. My favorite is The Screwtape Letters.

In Heaven's Eyes

2009-05-19T09:02:00.003-06:00

Sandi Patti recorded a song many years ago, titled "In Heavens Eyes." Look at the face of this angel, my granddaughter, and read the words to the song:

In heaven's eyes there are no losers.
In heaven's eyes, there's no hopeless cause.
There's only people like you with feelings like me,
And we're amazed at the grace that we find --
In heaven's eyes.

I love you, Naomi.

Another one bites the dust

2009-03-31T15:37:00.004-06:00

I am a year older since my last posting. I don't feel any older. In fact, I feel pretty much the same. This photo says a lot, especially since I started going to my Core Body strength classes again. Don't laugh - I'm the oldest chick there but I keep up. I like to compare exercise to putting you head in a vice and turning the screw: not fun while you're doing it, but you feel great when you quit. Yeah, I know I'm right.

Can I just say that my iPhone is the coolest thing I've ever owned? And does anyone like Pandora more than I do? Here are my stations: Foreigner, Eagles, Journey, Led Zeppelin, U2, Eva Cassidy, Celtic Rock, Beatles, Adele, Aerosmith, Celtic Women, Loreena McKennitt, Stix, Queen. I'm taking suggestions for others, so leave a comment.

Writer's Block or Brain Tumor?

2009-02-24T22:18:00.005-07:00

My publishing deadline came and went last week, so I have no business posting an entry on my blog when I should be finishing up a scholarly article on Shakespeare's Henry V for the Utah Shakespearean Festival. Alas, and woe, but Tina the Tumor is on my mind and on my son's brain. So, I'm not sure if I have writer's block, but the article ain't finished.

For an update on Ryan's condition, check out his blog. He's been pretty good about keeping it current, so that all his concerned friends and family can get the details straight. We had to wait two weeks to get today's news (oligodendralglioma); now we get to wait another two weeks to find out the chromosomal makeup of those gliomal cells. That information will determine what course of treatment (if any) the neuro-oncologist can employ.

Thank you for your comments and prayers. We are feeling them and comforted by them. I'll try to lighten up a bit in coming days. Here are a few photos of family taken in January (funeral and vacation).

That's me with Christina Loeffler, a dear friend from Club '71. There's my cousin Virginia Zubik with me for the first time in over 30 years. Then Joel and Aaron with my dear Aunt Opal -- she's in her 80s and a delight! Finally, there's Markie and me checking off #1 from my "bucket list" by attending a pro football game (sigh) on December 28, 2008.

morning mirror

2009-02-11T11:16:00.003-07:00

my mother her sad eyes worn as bark
faces me in the mirror. my mother
whose only sin was dying, whose only
enemy was time, frowns in the glass.
once again she has surprised me
in an echo of her life but
my mother refuses to be reflected;
[olive] whose only strength was love,
warns away the glint of likeness,
the woman is loosened in the mirror and
[olive may] begins her day. (unknown)

I love the monosyllabic pulse of this poem, which speaks to me from somewhere beyond my years. Yet, more and more often, I catch a glimpse of myself smiling, or not, and see only my mother's face. I hardly recognize myself anymore, inside and out. I'm hardly the same person I was only a few years ago. Happier and sadder at the same time.

Laugh, and the World Laughs with You...

2009-02-06T20:35:00.003-07:00

...cry, and you cry alone. So, I'm smiling as I write this update. The funniest things have happened over the past week: my eldest son was diagnosed with a brain tumor. We're all laughing about the need for neurosurgery. I hope y'all are giggling with me. And my broken-hearted daughter let go of a two-year relationship. She's had puffy eyes for a week now (snicker). My husband's eldest son keeps passing out from some undiagnosed malady. Good thing he's unemployed -- now, we're laughing out loud, right? And the fortune my dead father amassed, purchased with my mother's inheritance, has gone into the pockets of a dishonest crook and his equally dishonest lawyer. The bastard didn't even have the decency to give us his personal effects. I'm laughing so hard, tears are running down my face. I'm not making this stuff up. Wait, there's more...my 42-year-old cousin is having a double-mastectomy in two weeks, after being told that she had an "infection" on her breast. Funny doctor! And in spite of all this "humor", the best part of my week was the joy of spending my day off with these two angels, Naomi and Jocelyn. They rock my world!

Excuse me, do you have the time?

2009-01-27T14:48:00.003-07:00

(click on title to see video)

For those who know me well, it will not come as a surprise that I would post a link to this "entertaining" Italian commercial message. Enjoy!

One Door Closes...

2009-01-26T15:39:00.004-07:00

...and another door opens. It's true. With the door closed on my Tabernacle Choir duties and my father's funeral behind, my body is beginning to heal, and I am once again smiling. This year -- 2009 -- finds me standing in the open doorway of new opportunity and renewed energy. The goal will be to KISS: Keep It Simple Sister! Do one project at a time. Finish it before starting the next. Then put away everything and enjoy the respite.

Miracles Happen Everyday...even in my life

2009-01-23T09:21:00.004-07:00

Those who know me won't be surprised when I write of the many fervent prayers I have offered on behalf of my younger brother over the years. I have prayed that he would find peace in his life, and that he would find a way to follow God's plan for him -- some day, some way. Years ago in a sea of dispair, my brother searched the holy scriptures to find answers to his anguish and addiction. He cried out, "Where's my miracle?" I wrote him a long letter affirming the universal truth that Faith preceeds the miracle.

My prayers for him have been answered and the result is truly a miracle. He has been "clean & sober" for over a year. He is working his program and I see it on his face and hear it in his voice. He has found the peace of God and is learning to love himself. That's my miracle.

Well, it's only my first miracle. The second comes after two and a half years of fervent prayers for my son's family who suffered the tragic loss of their newborn in July 2006. Our entire family has mourned with them and for them for this lost baby whom we all wanted and loved dearly. "Please send them another baby" has been my plea. And God has answered it. This July we will have another new member in our arms to love and adore. This is one happy and grateful grandma. The miracle was the smile on the faces of my son, his wife, and their 5-year-old when they told me. It was priceless! My heart took a picture of that moment, and I will carry it with me always.

This One's for My Kids

2009-01-23T09:08:00.002-07:00

The Werd of the Day: (noun) mendearment
The verbal exchanges between men related by blood or good friends who call one another terms such as "jerkface" or "dirtbag" or other, more profane terms.

Example: "You're a total derfwad," said Roger, directing the mendearment to his brother.

A new day...A new dream.

2009-01-21T15:33:00.003-07:00

"To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West, know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy." - B. Obama, 20 January 2009

If our new president can do what he says he can and will, then he will be the leader that his supporters believe him to be. And he will become the leader for which the rest of us have longed.

God Bless America.

In the Evening of my life, I will look to the Sunset...

2009-01-02T01:20:00.003-07:00

My dad passed away the day after Christmas (last week), which means I'm technically an orphan for the first time in my life. I've shed more than a few tears this past week, but my sweet husband has joined me in sharing lots of good memories as we have prepared for a burial and memorial.

Molly's 2008 Christmas Greeting

2008-12-15T01:28:00.001-07:00

Make a Smilebox greeting

Being a good person is like being a pumpkin...

2008-11-18T12:59:00.003-07:00

...God lifts you up, takes you in, and washes all the dirt off of you. He opens you up, touches you deep inside and scoops out all of the yucky stuff -- including the seeds of doubt, hate, greed, etc. Then He carves you a bright new smiling face and puts His light inside of you to shine for all the world to see.

Things are not always as they SEEM...

2008-11-14T16:13:00.004-07:00

...Each of us experience twists and turns in the journey of life. Often we experience turmoil, shocks, and even heartache. Presently we are experiencing a major downturn in the economy and financial markets. Disappointments and what might seem like “failure” to reach our goals and aspirations, can overwhelm us and prevent us from progressing as we need to. The following story provides a new and refreshing way to evaluate these life experiences.

The Wise Angel
In heaven there were two angels, one was considered “wise,” and the other, being fairly new, was considered “unwise.” The unwise angel had entered heaven having had great disappointment in his life, and he was embittered with memories of his life experiences. The wise angel was given a special assignment to take the unwise angel back to earth to experience some things that would teach him a very important principle.

They both “fell” out of heaven and found themselves on a beautiful road. It was late in the day, and they soon realized they needed to find a place to stay for the night. As they walked they noticed the road was lined by a beautiful white picket fence. The fields were filled with many healthy cows, and even some beautifully groomed horses. At the top of the hill was a beautiful mansion.

They decided to approach the home and ask for a place to stay for the night. They knocked on the door and were greeted by a very stern sophisticated couple. Upon making their request, the couple hesitated and then finally agreed to put them up for the night. They explained that they had already eaten, therefore there would be no food before retiring. They were escorted to a basement room, dark and cold, and were given only meager blankets to cover them as they slept.

The wise angel noticed a hole in the wall. He proceeded to repair it, and did such a thorough job that one could not tell that the hole ever existed. The unwise angel asked, “Why would you take the time to fix the hole? This couple is so ungrateful and selfish!” The wise angel replied, “Sometimes things aren’t as they seem.”

As they left they expressed gratitude and made their way down the road. Soon the road changed into a dirt covered country road. The white picket fence changed into one made of barbed wire. Off in the distance they noticed an old farm house with one milk cow grazing in the small pasture in front. They decided to approach this home and ask if they could stay there for the next night.

They knocked on the door and were greeted by an old farmer and his aged wife. He had his arm gently wrapped around her thick waist, and it was very apparent that he loved her dearly. The old couple joyfully asked them to come in. They explained that they had indeed already eaten, but they quickly warmed up some soup, provided some hot bread, and warm milk so they would sleep comfortably through the night.

The two angels slept very well, but the next morning they were awakened by some cries from the old farmer. He exclaimed, “My milk cow is dead! Whatever will we do now?” He was deeply distressed, and this upset the unwise angel. He shouted, “How could you allow this tragic thing to happen? You chose to fix the hole for the selfish couple, but you couldn’t help this gracious, selfless couple save their cow?”

The wise angel explained, “The hole in the wall revealed a wealth of gold behind it. I covered it knowing that if this couple found it they would become obsessed and even more greedy and selfish than they already were. A Heavenly messenger came last night and told me that it was time for the old farmer’s wife to be taken. I pled with the messenger to take the cow instead. Sometimes things aren’t as they seem…”

It is my hope that we can view our hardships and difficult life experiences with a desire to find the blessings hidden behind the heartache. Always know that there is sweet among the bitter, and blessings waiting around the corner for those who refuse to be embittered by the difficult twists and turns of our life experiences.

I borrowed this inspiring fable from the head of advisory council newsletter. Thanks, EMI!(www.enterprise-mentors.org)

Use the Good Napkins for Thanksgiving

2008-11-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhh ...The joys of having girls! My mother taught me to read when I

was four years old (her first mistake). One day, I was in the bathroom and

noticed one of the cabinet doors was ajar. I read the box

in the cabinet. I then asked my mother why she was keeping ' ' napkins ' in the

bathroom. Didn ' t they belong in the kitchen? Not wanting to burden me with

unnecessary facts, she told me that those were for ' special occasions ' (her

second mistake). Now fast forward a few months....It ' s

Thanksgiving Day, and my folks are leaving to pick up my uncle and his wife

for dinner. Mom had assignments for all of us while they were gone. Mine

was to set the table. When they returned, my uncle came in first

and immediately burst into laughter. Next came his wife who gasped, then

began giggling. Next came my father, who roared with laughter. Then came

Mom , who almost died of embarrassment when she saw each place setting on the

table with a ' special occasion ' Kotex napkin at each plate, with the fork

carefully arranged on top. I had even tucked the little tail in so they

didn ' t hang off the edge!! My mother asked me why I used these and, of

course, my response sent the other adults into further fits of laughter.

' Mom, you said they were for special occasions!!! ' Pass this on to your

girlfriends who need a good laugh or anyone who has a daughter! Life is too

short for drama & petty things, laugh insanely, love truly

and forgive quickly....and for heaven ' s sake, use the good napkins whenever

you can!

Tag, I'm IT...*

2008-11-13T10:03:00.002-07:00

My daughter-in-law tagged me, so here goes (it may take me a few days to get through all these):

I: have had a full and exciting life, so far
I am: a mom, a grandma, a wife, a teacher, a performer, and a creator
I think: politics is a joke
I know: a little about a lot of things
I want: to quit working full-time and travel around in a motor home
I have: the cutest grandchildren in the world
I dislike: being lied to
I miss: my mother
I fear: my husband will die before me
I feel: grateful for opportunities to serve others
I hear: music in my head, first thing every morning, so I must dream music.
I smell: pine cones, and it makes me long for Thanksgiving & Christmas
I crave: spending time with my kids and grandkids
I cry: when my daughter-in-law acts unkind toward me
I usually: wake up at 6:00 am
I search: for cool blogs once a week. It's a fun indulgence, and I learn a lot!
I wonder: if I'll ever get around to writing all the things I need to write
I regret: hurting my children when I remarried. Even tho I've apologized for hurting them, the memories are still there.
I love: most of all, that God granted me the choice privilege of motherhood
I care: about my father's health
I always: eat breakfast now, but I didn't do it for the first 54 years of my life
I am not: a soloist anymore (sigh)
I remember: much more than most of my family members, because I have kept a journal since I was 12 years old.
I believe: in God, in my saviour Jesus Christ and in his Gospel, that Satan is real and can ruin lives, that my
I sing: on television every week
I don't always: play with my dog enough to satisfy her feisty nature
I argue: politics because it's such nonsense & because I've become a cynic
I write: every single day. It's what I do, it's who I am.
I win: when my students learn a new concept and use it.
I lose: at Fantasy Football more than I win. But I'm getting better.
I wish: I didn't have to watch what I eat.
I listen: to Glen Beck so that I can laugh while I drive.
I can usually be found: in the kitchen, at my laptop, or in front of the tv
I am scared: watching movies that show women as helpless victims (ugh!)
I forget: any appointment, unless it's written in my planner
I am happy: watching football (high school, college, pro, tv or live, any time, any place)

*Just for the record, the answers to any and all of these could change from day to day. It's a woman's prerogative!

Smile

2008-11-11T09:57:00.004-07:00

Teacher: "What's the difference between ignorance and apathy?"

Student: "I don't know, and I don't care."

Maya Angelou's Newest Poem

2008-10-24T09:06:00.002-06:00

Here is a new poem by one of my "Heroes I Wish Were My Friends. She wrote this in celebration of the AARP's 50th Anniversary.

Growing Older by Design

by

Maya Angelou

When you see me
Sitting quietly like a sack
Left on a shelf
Don't think
I need Your chattering
I'm listening to myself.

At first the seasons arrive
Slowly dragging themselves
Over our wishes for a hasty departure
Ebbing slowly, staying, hovering
Above our lives
Like heavy clouds
Each threatening to remain
Past its appointed time
Giving way, grudgingly
To another year
Which promises to be even
Slower, more tedious
"Wait two months
Until summer"
Two whole months?
Then summer
Will never come
"Wait two months
Until Christmas"
Two whole months?
Then Christmas
Will never come
Childhood lasts a lifetime
Hear it dragging its drum
Across the floor

Then there is a subtle increase

In the march
We welcome the acceleration
We snap our fingers
And match the tempo,
We are in joint,
This is our time,
Our muscles and bones
Our eyes and skin
Are at last one with
The space we are living in

The heart's steady hum
Quickly changes again
The tempo speeds ahead
Our efforts are vain
To slow down the train
Of life's racing ways
Taking our youth
And shortening our days

They remember our bright plumage
Now thinning and grey
Youth wags its heads
Sadly saying
We have had our day

When you see me walking slowly
And my feet won't find the stair
I will only ask one favor
Don't bring me a rocking chair

The pace has heightened again
And the blood slows
In our veins
Slackened by age
We may stumble
And fumble and fall
We exchanged our place with time
For it races like light
Down a darkened hall

Please stop
Do not pity me
Please hold your sympathy
Understanding if you've got it
Otherwise I will do without it

When you see me moving slower
Don't study and get it wrong
Tired does not mean lazy
And each good bye is not gone

I am the same person
I was back then
A little less hair
A little less chin
Some less lung
And much less wind
I count myself luckyI can still breathe in.
Hold, stop.
Don't pity me.

Finale: A Rite of Passage

2008-10-08T14:28:00.002-06:00

My father is seventy-nine years old, and until this week he still had a full head of hair. After nearly a year of treatments for colon cancer, his doctors have told him they can't do anything else. No more chemo, no more radiation, and no more surgery. He's too thin and too frail.

When I arrive at his house, I am able to wrap my arms completely around my father's once-bulky shoulders. I should have braced myself for the boney protrusions that I would feel under his clothing, jutting from every part of hi s torso. The man who kept me safe for so much of my life is now the object of my compassionate service.

He is undoubtedly questioning my motives. I am, after all, a career woman with family and job obligations. I have traveled through three states to offer meager care for his needs. Neither of my brothers speaks to him anymore; one's too sick to care about him and the other harbors too many grievances against him. I am, by default, the sole survivor of our nuclear family. Come to think of it, I question my own motives. What do I hope to accomplish in a few short days? I bring a smile, memories, encouragement, a sense of humor, and a desperate need to remain connected to my only surviving parent. It turns out the Dad is feelin g the same desperation. "You're all I have left," he whimpers.

We quickly settle into a rhythmic regimen of pills, liquids, small meals, and naps -- all of which we repeat over and over. After three days of this, Dad is feeling much better and decides he will drive his new truck. Three hours later he returns home to resume the cadence of swallowing, chewing, and sleeping. I watch his every move, especially when he closes his eyes. My mind wanders backward in time, only to be jerked back to the reality of today. Dad is dying. I want to recite Dylan Thomas: "Do not go gently into that good night....Rage against the dying of the light." But Dad seems to be doing just that, so I silently watch him when he doesn't know I'm watching him.

My father is seventy-nine years old and still has a full head of hair. Except for the bald patches, courtesy of his oncologist.

"Dad, let's shave your head," I suggest cheerily.

"Okay." His response is so matter-of-fact. "I've never been bald before."

I take my time providing this service. In one rite of passage, I officiate over his first and last head shaving. I feel privileged to be part of this ceremony. Afterward I honor Dad's request to groom his toes. "Dad, I love you enough to do this for you. Only two people get this kind of attention: my husband and my dad." He doesn't thank me. There's no need for that kind of formality.

"Life and Debt" Issues

2008-10-02T09:54:00.003-06:00

The Voice of Reason Comes from Both Sides....(read on)
I'm just a school teacher with a PhD who likes to read the news, so don't listen to me. The following two articles (published by both "liberal press" and "conservative media") agree with one another, proving that the current financial crisis in the U.S. is NOT a political issue; it's a "life and debt" issue.
http://www.time.com/time/business/article/0,8599,1845209,00.html Time Magazine Opinion
http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/10/01/beck.future/index.html Glenn Beck Opinion
Please read, and then write to your congressional representatives to let them know your support for or against the current bailout/rescue plan. I did, because that's all any of us can do at this point in time. http://www.senate.gov/

Good luck!

PROTECT OUR CHILDREN ACT (S.B.1738 Biden-Hatch) - WRITE TODAY

2008-09-17T10:24:00.003-06:00

Thanks to my daughter-in-law (nuera) Sarai, I am aware of this pending legislation. Please do your part in helping this bill pass the Senate, by writing to your senators at www.senate.gov Just cut and paste the following:

Dear Senator: I know that you believe, like I do, that we must do everything possible to protect children from sexual predators. That is why I am asking for your help. Last year alone, U.S. law enforcement identified over 300,000 criminals who were trafficking in movies and pictures of young children being raped and tortured. Experts say that one in every three of these criminals has local child victims. Child pornography trafficking over the Internet has given us a trail of evidence that leads straight to their doorsteps, but the vast majority of these children will never be rescued because investigators are overwhelmed, outnumbered and underfunded.

As your constituent, I urge you to do everything in your power to pass the PROTECT OUR CHILDREN ACT (S. 1738, Biden-Hatch). This bipartisan legislation passed the House 415-2, but it is now the victim of petty partisan politics.Now that we know where these children are and how to protect them, there is no excuse for the Senate to fail to take action this session.

Thinking Out Loud

2008-09-08T20:30:00.003-06:00

American author William Faulkner wrote, "I never know what I think about something until I read what I've written about it." That pretty well sums up my ability to offer political analysis. Thanks to a month of late nights watching Olympics and political conventions, I'm a basket case -- unable to articulate my own exhausted opinions. And after weeks of sleep deprivation, I'm a victim of my own auto-immune disorder. Wouldn't it be great if that were the punchline of a self-deprecating joke? Alas, it's my life. :(

But the bright side is that the NFL season has begun! I'm watching football and lying on the sofa, hoping to fall asleep to the drone of the crowds and commentators. That probably won't happen as easily this season as it has in past seasons, because I have joined the ranks of Fantasy Football fans. Call me crazy, but I love, love, love football. :)

Oh yeah, BYU is 2-0. Go, Cougars!

Mothers of Multiples -- the club where God chooses its members!

2008-08-26T09:51:00.008-06:00

Here is a photo of my identical twin sons today. It's hard to believe they weighed only 5 and 6 lbs when they were born 29 years ago. I remember that day vividly--some things are just too important to forget a moment of--because I wrote it all down in their baby books. Plus, I kept a journal over the years as my children were being born and growing up. Writing in a journal - best thing I ever did, next to becoming a mother.

About that corny heading: that was the byline for the Mothers of Twins Club years ago. I scoffed at it the first time I read it, but several months into the experience of being a M.O.M., I began to see the wisdom in that claim. My twins were my wakeup call to adulthood. I wouldn't have done it without them, and God knew that. So it's all good.

Compassion for All

2008-08-15T10:09:00.003-06:00

So, as those chosen by God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.

- Colossians 3:12

The Father can't forgive us our sins if we don't forgive other people. We reap what we sow. Sow mercy and you'll reap mercy. Sow judgment and you'll reap judgment. So, do yourself a favor and forgive. - Joyce Meyers

Happy Birthday, Tobin

2008-07-19T14:17:00.006-06:00

Two years ago today -- what began as exciting as any day I've ever anticipated -- my first grandson was born. My son honored me by inviting me to be part of Tobin's birth, so I put my clothes back on at midnight and drove to the hospital. Everything was perfect -- the baby was full term, his heartbeat was normal, mommy's labor moved along nicely, and the three of us stayed up all night too excited to sleep. I worked on a project for my office, Ryan sat with Alisa, and she slept off and on. By 5am, the doctor and anesthesiologist showed up to check on things. With little alarm, we watched the baby's heartbeat drop occasionally -- nothing unusual. Nevertheless, they gave Alisa a whopping dose of epidural (just in case they needed to do a C-section). By 9:30 she was ready to push, but couldn't feel enough to do the job, so with Ryan on one side and I on the other we held mom up enough for her to do the hard part. And after about five minutes of pushing, our lives changed forever.

Our beautiful boy -- the boy who carried his dad's name and HIS dad's name and HIS grandpa's name -- our Charles Tobin entered the world completely formed, ready for a long life. Except for the raging infection that no one saw coming. He was born sick, and he lived 36 hours.

Our hearts yearn for him more than our empty arms long to hold him. Losing one's baby leaves scars that will never fade. But we smile through tears today in celebration of what would have been his 2nd birthday. We will all grow older: his sister will grow up, his parents will age, his grandparents will become elderly. But Tobin will forever remain our lost baby. We loved him then and we love him still. Happy Birthday, angel. Our memories of you will never die.

A Letter to My Blog

2008-07-16T22:32:00.007-06:00

Dearest Blog,

I meant to catch you up on the family comings and goings of this past week, but it's been hard to find uninterrupted time until just now, 10:30pm on a Wednesday. Joceline (Jocie) turned 1 last week, so we used that occasion to have a family BBQ on Sunday afternoon. It was so much fun to have all the grandkids and their parents here with us. Mark prepared most of the food, cooked all the BBQ items, and played gracious host. He even cleaned up the kitchen afterwards, while I rested. It is such a rush for me to see my four grown children having fun together and enjoying each other's children and spouses. Ryan brought his guitar and serenaded us briefly. Joel says he'll bring his ukelele next time, and I'm going to re-learn the "squeeze box" that Mark's grandmother left him. Naomi, Demeree, and Jocie played in the pond out back and ended up with wet clothes. Wearing only panties, Naomi danced to "Shake Your Bootie" -- it doesn't get any cuter than a two-year-old doing a hoochie!!! Aaron and Joel turned 29 this past weekend. So our family party was to celebrate with them, as well. I've gotten pretty creative with my gift giving, as my kids seldom "need" anything. So, I bought two season tickets for BYU Football, which I will share with the three sons who have birthdays in July.

I just got off the phone with my friend Barb Fosse, who is in MN for the summer. We spent a lot of time together while I was living in Japan -- so many lovely memories. I hope she will take me up on my offer to have her visit here next summer.

Future blog topics coming soon:

"Who Needs a Nanny When You Have a Wooden Spoon?"

"Can I please be Secretary of State, Mr. President?"

"My Experience with TTTS: Twin-to-Twin Transfer Syndrome"

"Pet Therapy and Autism"

"Where in the hell is Carmen San Diego? She has my airline tickets!"

1926 - My Grandmother's Wedding Photo

2008-06-24T08:49:00.004-06:00

Hazel Clella Hiday married Everett Calvin Hiday on May 11, 1926. Her three sisters were bridesmaids (Mary, Myrtle, and Cora) and her Sunday School students served as attendants, hence the large assemblage here. Wasn't she an adorable bride? She made her dresses...I have them in my home.

Waxing Sentimental

2008-06-15T12:37:00.003-06:00

With the "Lawrence Welk Show" playing in the background, I become a 12-year-old in a 55-year-old body. I ride an emotional see-saw between Warm fuzzies and embarrassment as I stroll down memory lane with these beautifully archived snipets of musical/television history. My first paper dolls were the Lennon Sisters (Peggy, Kathy, Diane, and Janet). And I can feel the woolen carpet of my grandmother's living room, where we gather as a family on Saturday nights to watch her favorite show with Hazel. I can see the pale pine green carpet, with its movie-theater motif of flowers abounding. And I can feel the plush velvet of her burgundy-colored sofa and matching armchair. But the floor is where I lie with my paperdolls, my baby doll, and my grandmother's nightgown engulfing me in the warm fuzzy that only a real girly-girl basks. Norma Zimmer is what Hazel should have looked like on the outside, because that's what she was like on the inside. ..more later.

Maya Angelou's Best Poem

2008-06-12T08:04:00.000-06:00

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own,
even if she never wants or needs to...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
a youth she's content to leave behind....

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to retelling it in her old age....

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD H AVE ...
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
one friend who always makes her laugh... and one who lets her cry.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..
eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems,
and a recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honored.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
a feeling of control over her destiny.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to fall in love without losing herself.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
when to try harder... and WHEN TO WALK AWAY.

EVER Y WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that she can't change the length of her calves, the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that her childhood may not have been perfect... but its over.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she would and wouldn't do for love.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to live alone... even if she doesn't like it.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..
whom she can trust, whom she can't, and why she shouldn't take it personally.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
where to go... be it to her best friend's kitchen table or a charming inn in the woods...
when her soul needs soothing.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she can and can't accomplish in a day... a month...and a year.

1965-1975: Elegy for Americans

2008-06-07T20:30:00.006-06:00

In 1993 I wrote a tribute to those who lived through, and died in, the Viet Nam "conflict." I was 12 when that war started and 22 when it ended. It marred my adolescence, as the lead story night after night for a decade recounted the dead, the wounded, the missing, the imprisoned. Finally, in 1975 I watched as American soldiers were quietly shuttled back into the U.S. in small groups of 20-30 soldiers. There were no crowds, no parades, no bands, no celebrations to welcome home these broken warriors who would continue to suffer for who knows how long from every possible form of PTSD.

One 4th of July a few years later, I spotted a handful of VietNam War vets marching in the parade. From the depths of my soul rose an unrecognizable sorrow, and tears flowed uncontrollably at the sight of these heroes from my own generation. We are not the noble ones, like that Greatest Generation of our fathers. But we have a story to tell that might bring understanding to the world. We all suffered, we all remember.

I will never cease to love you --
you who are my tattered generation,
who toiled in vain to save someone else's dream.

I will never cease to see you with my heart,
you the uniformed marchers,
the long haired protesters, the dirty,
the young, the injured --
you who left, who gave, who returned --
for my heart carries your face.

Your voice has been seared into my soul
for all time as mine --
my Countrymen.
I mouth the words to worn out tunes
of land and stripes, of rockets and emblems,
whose meanings only you and I share.

I will never cease to feel for you --
you who might have been mine
in this future in which I live and you are remembered.

I will not cease to feel the pain of your memory,
the loss of your presence, the shame of your sacrifice,
and the pride in your honor.

I will never forget to Salute you --
as parades pass noisily,
as winds unfurl flags,
as voices raise in song,
as my throat feels the loss,
the pain, the shame, and the pride --
mingled in an instant.

This is my promise:
I will not cease to remember
you who were mine --
brothers, fathers, lovers, sons, friends --
my Countrymen.

Life's Lessons

2008-05-20T09:50:00.001-06:00

I have seen these before, but I enjoyed reading them again. So, I’m posting them here today.

1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.
8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.
16. Life is too short for long pity parties. Get busy living, or get busy dying.
17. You can get through anything if you stay put in today.
18. A writer writes. If you want to be a writer, write.
19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save them for a special occasion – today is special.
22. Over-prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important body organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: "In five years, will this matter?"
27. Always choose life.
28. Forgive everyone everything.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.
35. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood. Make it memorable.
38. Read some good books. They cover every human emotion.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.
41. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
42. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful, or joyful.
43. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
44. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
45. The best is yet to come.
46. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up, and show up.
47. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
48. If you don't ask, you don't get.
49. Yield.
50. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.

The Happiest People...

2008-05-05T19:24:00.008-06:00

The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything. You are the miracle, my friend. Your life either shines a light – or casts a shadow. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.

2008-04-23T22:19:00.005-06:00

I made this recipe and served it on St. Patrick's Day in 2008. It was a big hit with the family, who had already eaten unimpressive corned beef that week. This recipe is different, Irish, and delicious. You'll want extra portions and leftovers, so go ahead and prepare it with two briskets.

Spicy Irish Corned Beef - yield 18-20 servings

2 corned beef briskets (abt 3# each)
1 medium onion halved
1 medium carrot cut into chuncks
1 celery stalk with leaves, cut into chunks
1 T. mixed pickling spices
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1 T. prepared mustard (I use the powdered stuff)
1/2 sweet pickle juice (I use the juice from bread & butter pickles)

1. Place corned beef in a large Dutch oven (I used my crock pot) & cover with water.
2. Add the onion, carrot, celery and pickling spices & bring to a boil3. Reduce heat, cover and simmer for 3 hours or until meat is tender.
4. Transfer corned beef to a 13x9 cake pan, discarding broth and vegetables. Score the surface of the meat with shallow diagonal cuts.
5. In a small bowl, combine brown sugar, mustard, and pickle juice; spead over meat.
6. Bake uncovered for 1 hour at 325 degrees, basting occasionally.

This is the second recipe my daughters-in-law have asked me for in the past two weeks--I must be getting better with my cooking and baking. I have discovered the joy of cooking delicious, healthy meals. For years I concerned myself with inexpensive meals for a family of six. Then I ate out a lot, and gained a lot of weight. Lately, I have been watching cooking shows on TV and find them inspiring. Here's the rule I learned from Chef Ramsey: limit ingredients to 4 when preparing a specific dish. Too many flavors overwhelm and confuse the palate.

So, here's my own recipe for my favorite seafood: broiled salmon. I use only wild salmon, because farmed salmon lacks the flavor of wild. The chili powder is not hot and enhances the fish's flavor. The almond topping adds a low-fat crunch. My recipe has only four ingredients (butter, salt and pepper don't count). I call it --
Savory Salmon
1 large Salmon filet
2 T chili powder
4 T butter
1 garlic clove
1/4 cup finely chopped almonds

Rinse and blot dry a large salmon filet (2-3 pounds). Cut into 4 even pieces.
1. Saute lightly in saute pan: 4 T butter, 2 T chili powder, and 1 garlic clove (crushed/diced). Add salt and pepper to taste.
2. Pour butter mixture into a foil-lined baking dish (13x9 works)
3. Roll salmon portions in the butter mixture. Broil for 3 min, skin side up.
4. Turn and cover top of salmon portions with crushed almonds. Return to broil for 3 minutes.
5. Check to make sure salmon is cooked through.

Serve with rice pilaf and fresh asparagus. You'll love this because it's so easy, yet so delicious & healthy.

Why I love Ireland...

2008-04-08T16:18:00.005-06:00

Bono enticed me to visit Ireland in 2001. And I've been in love ever since. NOT with Bono, but with that beautiful green island. The narrow lanes of the villages, the town jails (Gaol), the seaside cafes and B&Bs, the churches and castles, the red-headed children, the ridiculous/ubiquitous rock walls that divide and define every fen and crag. The people, the land, the climate, and the history intoxicate the most innocent visitor with a craving for more of the same. I long to return to this mystic place where I don't remember a single unpleasant moment. That doesn't count the pain of a cracked tooth made worse by the chilly Dublin wind. "Breath through your nose, Kelli" said herself. Some people have even asked if I'm from Ireland. My ruddy complexion and adopted brogue can be deceiving. When my daughter and I get talking like colleens, you'd swear we're Irish. Sure, now I can hear their voices in my head -- that lilt coming from puckered mouths reciting Irish verse:

There is a place where time stands still,

Where white sheep graze on lush green hills

And thatched cottages still keep a cozy hearth --

A magical place of laughter and song,

Of spirited people, proud and strong --

IRELAND,

You are forever in our hearts.

If it's been awhile since you last watched "The Quiet Man" (John Wayne, Maureen O'Hara), watch it again. You'll see and hear what I'm talking about, Mickeline!

Suegras: La Segunda

2008-03-02T20:40:00.008-07:00

Few women are fortunate enough in this life to have TWO wonderful suegras. Dolores Varela was born 17 June 1931 to Jose Varela and Amy Larson of Burley, Idaho. Joe and Amy only had two children: Joe Junior and Dolores. But the four were surrounded by a huge extended family, and Dolores grew close to her aunts and cousins. She married her high school sweetheart, Byron Allred, and followed him around the globe as he pursued his career as an officer in the U.S. Air Force. They would become parents to five boys: Mark, Jon, Eric, Paul, and Phillip. They lived in Utah, Nebraska, Spain, Texas, Turkey, California, Maine, and Idaho. She made an outstanding military wife and created a lovingly disciplined home for her boys. When Byron left the military in 1971, the family settled in Burley, Idaho where Mom taught Spanish and English, and Dad was a school librarian. They moved from Burley to Preston in 2006.

In 1996 I accepted Mark's marriage proposal without ever having met his parents. They were serving a church education mission in Guatemala, setting up Institute programs for young LDS adults. I called her Mom from the first. Over the years, our relationship has become very special. Dolores and I share a number of common interests: we’re both English teachers, we like to shop and sew and bake. We love irises, travel, and speaking Spanish. We like doing genealogy and organizing family photos. And we love spending time with our kids and their kids. I always consider it a real treat to spend time with Mom. On rare occasions, we steal away to shop and go to lunch. We like watching movies together, and we share our reading. Oh yes, and we both LOVE See’s candy! Mom's health is precarious these days, besot with pain. I wish I could take it from her for awhile so that she could do the things her heart and head still long to do. Her testimony is simple and strong, and she continues to endure to the end. I'm so blessed to be able to call and talk to her any time. She is a wonderful friend and confidante. I'm grateful that my husband was raised by a woman who taught him about devotion to God, family, and his country. She taught her boys to care for the women in their lives and to be loyal to family members. I credit her with my husband's loving nature and sense of humor.

Suegras: La Primera

2008-03-02T20:19:00.011-07:00

I have been blessed to have two suegras (mothers-in-law), wonderfully supportive and loving women. I like to use the Spanish word for mother-in-law because it's simple and pleasant-sounding.

Zelphia Laverne Greenhalgh, born 31 July 1913, was the second of four children born to Jesse Ray Greenhalgh and Jessie Mae Powell of Santaquin, Utah. Orphaned by age 8, Zelphia was taken in by relatives who expected and demanded hard work from her. She learned to be a pleaser, a chef, a baker, and seamstress, and a gardener. I never knew a harder working woman than her. She was 19 when she married Darrel Jarvis Frost. It was the 1930s, and the Great Depression had decimated the job market across the U.S., but her husband eked out a salary by selling blankets door-to-door. The two lived in a single bedroom in the home of his parents for several years. They had three children while living with Darrel's parents. When the steel mill opened in the valley during WWII, Darrel got a job there. Eventually he purchased a large piece of land in town and built on it a modest home where they would raise their five children. Darrel continued working at the steel plant until his retirement in 1970. Some retirement--he died a year later. When I married their youngest son a few years later, Zelphia cried a lot, but I learned to look past the tears and see the love and loneliness that enveloped her.

Zelphia was my mother-in-law for 20 years. Over those decades, I asked a lot of questions, listened to her stories, and learned a lot about her, and we came to love and respect one another. The first time I ever called her ‘Mom’, she immediately told me, “You’re the only one of my boys’ wives to call me Mom. I really like that.” I called her Mom from then on. At age 83 her health declined and she was hospitalized with congenital heart failure. After two months in rehab, her children brought her home. She sat down at her kitchen table and within an hour passed from this life. We buried her the morning of April 30, 1996. My grandson, Tobin, is buried next to her.

My marriage ended in 1995, and though I no longer carry her name, I carry in my heart precious memories of her and how much she was loved in her lifetime.

Music all the days of my life...

2008-02-24T22:27:00.005-07:00

Eva Cassidy is singing Sting's "Fields of Gold" as I write this. What s voice! What a song! Some mornings I awaken in the middle of a song, because I've been dreaming music. It happens a lot, actually. When I was growing up, music provided an escape from a contentious household. Even now I can't imagine life without music -- and I can't remember a day that didn't include song. Music is part of every mood, every event, every memory throughout my life. I'll be singing at a funeral later this week -- happy and sad at the same time.

How's this for a hymn title: Lean on My Amp Alarm? Thanks to my friend Dale Bowman for bringing a smile to a serious subject. Kidding aside, there's a wonderful hymn that I'd love to hear sung at my funeral. I picture myself on the other side blissfully living these words, but enjoying listening to loved ones' voices singing them--
There is sunshine in my soul today more glorious and bright
Than glows in any earthly sky, for Jesus is my light.
There is music in my soul today, a carol to my King.
And Jesus listening can hear the songs I cannot sing.
There is gladness in my soul today, a hope and praise and love
For blessings which He gives me now, for joys laid up above.
Chorus: Oh, there's sunshine, blessed sunshine where the peaceful, happy moments role.
When Jesus shows his smiling face, there is sunshine in the soul.

Sisters in Spirit

2008-01-31T16:27:00.002-07:00

Once day my dad told me that he could count on one hand the number of lifelong friends he had. Although I was in the throes of adolescent popularity and friendships, I took a step backward and let that sink in. Yes, I knew I was wasting a lot of time and energy on friends who wouldn't know a thing about me in a few short years. I figured that when I was his age I'd be saying the same thing to my own kids. And that's exactly what happened.

Today, it takes me only one hand to count my lifelong friends. And it takes a lot of work to keep those friendships alive. Unfortunately I haven't been diligent enough to maintain these relationships, but they are part of my life just the same. Sheila, Susan, Arlene, Camille, Brandie -- we are sisters in spirit and nothing can really break that bond.

I've always wanted to write a book about my observations and studies of sisterless women. Most of my closest friends have been girls/women who -- like me -- have no sisters. We are a different breed from the other women who grew up with sisters. More on this topic later...

2006-10-18T16:31:00.000-06:00

Today I read Antonella Pavelle's blogger advice -- "how to blog" -- and I decided it was time to dive into this ocean.

After journaling for four decades, I must have something left to say. Actually, the first decade of musings were mostly drivel and whining; the next decade I wrote about all my wonderful accomplishments. the third decade was a record of my birth into "Second Adulthood" brought on by divorce and remarriage; and the current decade is well underway as I continue my career path as--what else?--a WRITER.

My heart beats like crazy these days -- for the joys of being with my grandchildren every moment I can. It beats with pride at the four adults who were once my four small children. It beats with love for their wonderful spouses who make their lives richer. It races with love for my "second-time-around" husband, who is my best friend. I hope we both live long enough to be a comfort to one another as we grow old together.

And so, my first personal blog concludes by noting that after four decades of recorded memory and experience, I have come to personify the adage "The greatest things in life are not things." No, the greatest things in life are the relationships we make, sustain, and take with us each day and beyond.

Thanks for reading. I'll try to keep it lighter in the future.