tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89462032908261309922024-02-21T01:44:38.114-08:00The View from My BroomRuminations of a CroneStephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.comBlogger261125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-15118299503246293232015-07-11T10:46:00.001-07:002015-07-11T10:54:15.208-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><strong>You Cannot Justify the Confederate Flag Flying on Public Property;</strong></span> <strong>but maybe in your own yard.</strong><br />
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This year has been eye opening for an old Pacific NW white woman. I<em> knew</em> racism was alive, but I didn't realize it was doing so well. Police brutality, a church massacre, church burnings, and the revelation that the Confederate flag still flies on public property, not only in the South, but right here in Western Washington! </div>
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There used to be a house along highway 302 that sported a Confederate flag. It infuriated me when we drove past it on the way to the beach. I'd tell my husband how I'd like to come in the night and cut down the pole! My constitutionalist husband pointed out that as hateful as it was, the home owner had a perfect right to fly it. They may not have been the home owner. After a while the flag went away and appeared at a dilapidated house in Shelton which we still passed on our way to the coast and then even that went away. I'd like to think that neighbors complained, but I realize that Dave was right. As heinous as that flag is, individuals have the protection of the constitution to express their political beliefs on their own property.</div>
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That said, I cannot believe that the battle flag of traitors who created a nation that went to war with the Union in order to maintain a way of life that had been built on the blood of slaves, is allowed on public property. Pride? What is there to be proud about? What is there to be nostalgic about? Unfortunately, <em>Gone with the Wind</em> romanticized the South and made us feel sorry for poor Scarlet whose way of life was destroyed, but her steadfast mammy stuck by her because she was such a good slave. That gentle, mannerly way of life was made possible by the enslavement of human beings.</div>
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People spend summers recreating Civil War Battles. I wonder if there are reenacting groups who recreate WWII battles or concentration camps?</div>
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Germany has gone to great pains to prevent Nazism from being venerated the way the Confederacy is here. Their neo-Nazis have glommed onto the Confederate flag as a sign of hate to replace the Swastika they are not supposed to fly. As Larry Wilmore pointed out on his program, the Confederate flag is a racist back-up flag for an illegal racist flag. I am of German, albeit a long time ago, extraction and I feel only shame about the Nazis. The Swastika is a widely agreed on symbol of hate, the same as the Confederate flag. Why else does the KKK carry the Confederate flag and sometimes the Swastika if this is not so? They are proud; proud of their hate.</div>
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On Facebook I've shared quite a lot about the S. Carolina flag coming down and this morning received a message from a FB friend attempting to bully me into stopping. I was accused of sending <em>him "</em>political mush." Is that like "apple sauce" or "jiggery-pokery?" Clearly he has little idea of how FB works, but I have very nearly unfriended a different and racist friend, but isn't the public square about the exchange of ideas and doesn't our constitution protect freedom of speech? I did unfriend someone once for being downright nasty so I can sympathize with someone highly offended. That was before you could hide <em>yourself </em>from particular people. I suggested that this mornings outraged friend hide <em>me</em>, but maybe I should do it for him. Or maybe not. I do have the courage of my convictions.</div>
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I briefly thought that maybe racists ought to be forced to fly the Confederate flag so we "could know them by their limping." But I might be more surprised than ever by how many would (and may) go up, so maybe it's not a great idea. I am gobsmacked by how far we haven't come in 150 years, especially the last 60. I take heart from the fact that I've lived to see a Black man in the oval office and may live long enough to see a woman. I am not without hope, the hope the President has always spoken about.</div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-86927356842820470102015-06-19T09:23:00.000-07:002015-06-19T09:23:55.549-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We move through our lives making connections, some that last a lifetime and some that seem to fade like an old Kodachrome snapshot. For me, Facebook means reconnecting threads long broken, but unless that person belongs to Facebook it's more difficult and in some instances comes just plain too late. I've had two such instances lately.<br />
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Only just this week I learned of the passing of a Sammamish High School classmate that I don't think I'd seen since graduation in 1969. He was not a close friend, but was with someone of whom I have fond memories and also mostly lost contact with. Mark Byrski was shy even in grade school and never did come to reunions. This week I learned of his passing and despite the fact that we did not travel in the same circles really, I feel thread from the weave of our shared childhood has one more hole in it. At my age there are several holes and doubtless more to come. Our In Memorium poster will have one more picture when we meet at Lake Sammamish this fall.<br />
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Several nights ago I dreamed of a couple with whom I'd lost touch back in the 1980s. During the 1970s they had been a large part of the lives of my then husband and myself. Father Sam Poulos baptized our daughter Amy and baptized and was godfather to our son Joshua, his wife godmother. In my dream they were aged as they might be forty years later. I recognized Dimitra immediately even though her hair was gray. Fr. Sam was much thinner. He was a jolly Friar Tuck sort of parish priest at the Church of the Assumption in Seattle. Their adopted boys were roughly the same age as Amy and Josh and we traded parenting tips and baby clothes.<br />
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We were sad when Fr. Sam was reassigned to a California parish, but it was better for Dimi's health. After their departure we had another son, but our connection with the parish seemed diminished and our lives were changing. Soon we divorced. A number of moves on both end of the snail mail trail meant that eventually even the Christmas cards stopped. A lot of history water has flowed under the bridge and except when I glance at a montage of pictures of baby pictures of the children and see Fr. Sam and Dimi proudly holding Josh on his baptism day, I haven't thought much about them. I always worried that my subsequent marriages would be a disappointment to them. Now I am inclined to think I would be welcomed as an old friend to trade stories of our children. But it's just plain too late.<br />
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When I awoke from this vivid dream of visiting with Fr. Sam and Dimi I went straight to the computer, determined to find them. There was blessed little. I found that Fr. Sam had been a parish priest in the San Francisco Diocese in the early 1980s. That made sense. They went to Pittsburg, CA, but it was too foggy there for Dimi and they moved on to Bakersfield which suited Dimi's health much better.<br />
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A little farther down my Google search was something I had not anticipated. It was an obituary for Fr. Sam from 2010 in Maryland. He'd been dead for five years. Undoubtedly he touched many lives in the last forty odd years with Dimi's quiet gentleness bringing grace to their impact on the congregations they served. <br />
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Why I had my dream lately when I'd not even thought of them recently is a mystery. As mysterious as the mind is.<br />
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It is one thing to believe that connections with someone can be reestablished, but it's quite another to know that that thread has been forever severed in this world. I guess if there is a moral to the story it is to work hard at maintaining relationships.</div>
Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-32485292683284458892015-06-05T08:15:00.000-07:002015-06-05T08:15:30.901-07:00Remembering the Battle of Midway<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>From the moment the Japanese flew back to their carriers from Pearl Harbor, my father was no longer that fresh faced boy from the Missouri Ozarks</strong></span><br />
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Seventy-three years ago the United States Navy dealt a strategic blow to the Japanese plan to dominate the South Pacific and my father, Conrad R. Frieze, was there.</div>
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My father and his brother Richard had been at Kaneohe Bay on December 7th, 1941 and together fought back against the Japanese attack from he waist hatch of a PBY w: the ith a 50 caliber machine gun. Uncle Dick even shot down a Japanese zero.</div>
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The attack on Pearl Harbor was not only a blow to the United States military with losses of ships and airplanes and some 2,000 soldiers and sailors, but it was a blow psychologically. Years later my father wrote that he never felt the same again. He'd gone from being a 19 year old sailor stationed in paradise, scheduled to take an entrance exam for Annapolis. Midway was booster shot to his psychology and that of the United States.</div>
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From the moment the Japanese flew back to their carriers from Pearl Harbor, my father was no longer that fresh faced boy from the Missouri Ozarks and by June of 1942 he was a fighting man and the gunner on a PBY. The PBY was not a fast or glamorous airplane, but it was the workhorse of the Navy and much loved by him. PBYs were instrumental in locating the Japanese fleet on their way to Midway and by the end of the battle, the one my father was on flew circles around a Japanese lifeboat, my father's 50 cal trained on the officers therein, until a rescue could be exacted by the Navy.</div>
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When my father's plane returned to base a messenger sought out my father with the cap device from a Japanese lietenant and with it was the message "Tell the gunner thank you for not killing us." That and a sword, which came from where I know not and disappeared by my father's death, were among his momentos of the war.</div>
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In 1967 Walter Lord published his book <em>Incredible Victory: the Battle of Midway</em>. My father, now working at the Boeing Company as an aeronautical engineer and an executive, read the book in the early 1970s and saw a picture of the Japanese officers he hadn't killed. Through his connections at Boeing and the National Archives he was able to track down the men in the boat. All were still living and the lieutenant was now Retired Rear Admirable Mandai. </div>
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By this time my father had been traveling all over the world, including to Japan, on a regular basis selling first the 727 on through the 747 and saw an opportunity to create publicity for Boeing and to meet the men he didn't kill. With help from Boeing a meeting and photo op in Tokyo was arranged (one of the men, for whom the war had not ended, refused to attend) and my father got to meet them and present the cap device to Admiral Mandai. The tall stately man refused to take it back, declaring that it was my father's war trophy.</div>
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After that my father and step mother became friends with Admiral Mandai and his wife. They did the tourist bit around Tokyo with them and the Mandais made visits to Seattle where my father got to be tour guide. </div>
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I don't think as my father watched the Japanese planes disappear on December 7th, 1941 that my father could have ever imagined that one day he would be friends with a Japanese officer or that he still contained enough humanity to save his life. I am glad for both.</div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-11886795545364500422015-04-17T08:42:00.001-07:002015-04-17T08:42:54.314-07:00Creating Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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While picking out flooring yesterday, I received a text from our realtor/friend Ada Williams saying that our "new" house had closed. Daughter-in-law Ana and Grandson Gabriel had accompanied Dave and myself to the house yesterday morning to meet Ada and get the keys to our new family kingdom.</div>
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Dave had measured all the main floor living spaces in both houses and the windows (just in case something turns up at Goodwill) and after biding Ada goodbye we went to a flooring store where the sale items didn't appear to be on sale and the salesman didn't seem to know the price of anything. </div>
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Our next stop was Lumber Liquidators. We purchased hardwood flooring 20 years ago from them and were pleased to find just what we wanted. This time we are going for bamboo. Being, as one friend says, "Old Growth Hippies," we wanted something that is sustainable. I also wanted something that is prefinished so that we can lay it and get moved in! If you aren't familiar with Lumber Liquidators they are a no frills flooring outlet. Enough flooring for our two houses (we all decided on the same floor) can only be got by Dave driving around the Puget Sound Area to all of the outlets collecting it, but our salesman found and claimed enough for the job so we ended our first day of owning Haeck Haven on Ana Alley feeling accomplished. Now to rent that truck!</div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-38530790512237127632015-04-16T08:26:00.000-07:002015-04-16T08:51:28.420-07:00Moving On<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Today is an exciting day for our big household for we've purchased a new, and probably forever, home after twenty-five years in Gig Harbor. For twelve years my middle son Frank and his wife Ana have lived with us and eleven years ago their son Gabriel was born. It was intended to be "temporary" but graduate school, student loans, and raising a baby made it logical to continue and most importantly, I am a mama who loves having her chicks around. Where many parents are "bummed out" when school lets out, I was always thus when it was time to have them go back to school. I loved summers with my four children.</div>
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We are not always in agreement as to how to do things around our five bedroom house. We frequently have different schedules for eating. Dave, my daughter Amy and I like an early dinner and settling in for the evening. Ana, our daughter-in-law, is Brazilian and accustomed to eating much later than we. I am sure Ana will agree that it is difficult sharing a kitchen. I know that because she lamented it once a few years ago and now she shall have her own for the property allows us to stay together, have a bit more space and two kitchens. </div>
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It was listed as a duplex, has been used as triplex at times, but is actually two homes with no common wall. That last bit I consider to be a downside. I would have liked to had a common door that our grandson could run through and would make it easy to care for each other's animals. When Frank and family are in Brazil, their cat McGonagall will just have to come live on our "side" and when we are away without our little dog, Loki will have to go to them. There are too many upsides to this new property to complain about something so small. After all, we will only be steps away from each other and Gabriel will be doing homeschool in our basement.</div>
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That is an upside to the property. It has enough space for there to be a room dedicated to Gabriel's homeschooling and violin practice. Although my son Frank is a public school teacher they chose to homeschool Gabriel because of Ana's frequent extended trips to Brazil. In addition he takes violin lessons and plays in a youth orchestra. Although he's quite good enough after eight years that I do not mind the practicing, it will be nice for him to have a room where he knows his music is.</div>
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The new property will put us in Tacoma and on the other side of the Narrows Bridge and its ridiculously high toll. Frank is the art teacher at Clover Park High School and so has to cross daily to work and Gabriel once or twice a week for lessons. Although we've loved living in Gig Harbor, once all my children were grown and I retired from the school district, there was no particular reason to stay.</div>
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Our current house does not serve my special needs adult daughter. Her declining mobility makes it difficult for her to negotiate stairs and in the new place her bedroom will be on the same floor as family activities. She will have three steps in the back door and Dave plans to eliminate even that with a ramp. It will be lovely to feel that she's more a part of what's happening at home although she's always preferred her own company to that of anyone else. At least if she wants a glass of ice tea there will be no reason for her not to get it herself.</div>
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We will also be in the same town as my oldest son and his family which will be a joy. We have been only about 25 minutes away in Gig Harbor, but now we should be able to be at each other's home in half that. We will be close for school events which tonight include Granddaughter Linda's performance in the Tacoma School District's Young Ambassadors, a group that demonstrates tumbling and calisthenics to grade school children and performs at high school sporting events. She and her sister Lydia are also involved in dance and drama and we will be minutes away from those performances.</div>
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Both Dave and I are retired and beginning an exciting chapter in life, but mindful of what lies ahead. We saw my in-laws move from the family home into a smaller more functional home, but didn't stop to think about it being far from public transportation and shopping. Our home in Gig Harbor is in exactly the same situation. I do not always want to be dependent on my children for rides to the doctor and shopping. The new property is on a busline and walking distance to a huge grocery store. Especially happy for my husband is the fact that we will be very close to the Seattle Mariners' farm team, the Tacoma Rainiers!</div>
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Today we get the keys to our little kingdom and can measure for flooring and paint. The work is about to begin!</div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-44180241869819267332015-03-25T09:07:00.000-07:002015-03-25T09:08:16.081-07:00Finding Flatware<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was a young wife and stay-at-home-mom in the early 1970s. Like many women I collected Betty Crocker box tops from products I prepared and saved them to buy flatware. I still have come of those pieces, but 45 years of wear, garbage disposals, and moves means that there are a few key pieces left and our family went on to have a couple of other sets of flatware.<br />
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Twice I've purchased flatware with purple handles only to have them begin to break. They had been hand washed and well cared for and were disappointing. I have determined not to get any sort of plastic handled flatware again. A white handled set we had held up well, but the white discolored in the hard water of Gig Harbor and the handles were so heavy that they fell off plates being carried to the table or the family room. Yes, we ought not to eat before the television, but it happens.<br />
<br />
Betty's offerings were made by Onieda, who also made silver-plated flatware. It really was stainless, unlike the set I bought a couple of years ago at Costco. The forks weren't huge which I suppose is a commentary on Americans' eating habits. I only use the salad/dessert forks.<br />
<br />
Now that we are preparing to move to a "new" home after 25 years in one space I feel a bit like a bride, collecting things I'd like to have to start the new chapter of our lives. I got on eBay to see if there was any Betty Crocker flatware available. There is and depending on the pattern it's rather spendy! The Brahms is ridiculous, with a single knife going for as much as $15 so that patter, of which I may have a few pieces from Goodwill, is out.<br />
<br />
I'd like to find a complete set of something that serves 8 and be done with it without having to get pieces thither and yon which I did for my hard-to-find Corelle wisteria. What I won't do is go to Costco or Ross or any other store and buy flatware that is either too flimsy or two massive. <br />
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-33474393206908007502015-03-16T09:58:00.000-07:002015-03-16T09:58:38.084-07:00What's Wrong with Public Schools?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm on a broom. As the member of a large family of teachers, I am tired of the mindless criticism leveled at public schools, the source of which, I am pretty sure, is the mouth piece of the Right, FauxNews. <br />
<br />
There is at least one post floating around FaceBook purporting that the Pledge of Allegiance is no longer being said in schools. It doesn't provide the information as to what schools aren't teaching it to children, but this fact alone is probably responsible for 9-11, ISIS, Ebola. <br />
<br />
I worked in four public schools from 1987 to 2014 and it was always said. <br />
<br />
But let us step back and look at the tradition of the Pledge of Allegiance. It's always been there, right? It is so ubiquitous that it must have been written by one of the Founding Father's and used to swear allegiance before the troops went off to fight the British, right? Wrong. It was written by a socialist minister, Francis Bellamy, in 1888, paid for and marketed by James B. Upham to sell more flags. Daniel Sharp Ford used the pledge to market not only the flags, but his magazine <em>The Youth's</em> <em>Companion. </em>Eventually Congress adopted it to the Flag Code and during the Red Scare of the 1950s added the words "under God" as a hedge against communism.<br />
<br />
It could have been "two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame bun." I am not saying that repeating the Pledge isn't a lovely tradition meant to instill patriotism into children and adults alike--although I wish the pledge were to the country, not the flag--but is the fact that it MAY NOT be said in every American public school be what's wrong with schools? I don't think so.<br />
<br />
As the member of a large extended family of a dozen teachers I think that the number one problem with the learning environment of public schools are the parents of their students. American children are by-and-large not being taught at home to respect the institution of the school, the education they are being given for free (and which plenty of children around the world are willing to risk their lives to get), and the teachers who work their butts off dealing with governmental regulations and behaviors. The parents and coaches teach children that everyone is a winner and a perfect snowflake and when their child doesn't get the grade they think they deserve they make the teachers lives miserable.<br />
<br />
Instead of mindlessly passing on something criticizing teachers and schools, ask questions. Where is this happening? Is it REALLY HAPPENING? What can I do to help schools and teachers?<br />
<br />
The children are our future. If we want them to continue a tradition of greatness in America let's focus on making them rational beings who can solve problems and learn all of their lives. And yes, let us spend those approximately 17 seconds teaching them a pledge and making them take off their damn baseball caps while they do it. Those damn caps are another blog.</div>
Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-47468644491114692862013-11-03T10:35:00.000-08:002013-11-03T10:35:15.319-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Making a Penny Scream</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A year and a half ago, at not-quite-sixty, my husband felt
compelled to relocate 1,500 miles to return to work for Lockheed Martin thus
turning our marriage into what is called a “commuter marriage.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The necessity of this decision grew from the
fact that we’d made some bad financial decisions that had put us into
debt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within months we’d recouped the
$40,000 of debt; Dave turned 62 and has returned home to Gig Harbor with an eye
of my retiring in June.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was an
emotional cost to Dave’s time away so it is important that we honor the
sacrifice and not allow our situation to deteriorate again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mostly we need to not return to living like
middle class Americans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know how to live
poor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Having been low income more than half my adult life, I pay
attention to folks who claim to have ways of saving money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of my favorite reads have been
compilations of a newsletter from the pre-Internet days called the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tightwad Gazette</i> so it was natural that
I “liked” the Face Book page Homemade Living Frugally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After being a wife and/or mom for 42 years I
have amassed plenty of tricks for, in the words of my late mother-in-law,
“making a penny scream.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When someone on
Homemade Living Frugally posted the question as to how to save money on their
food bill I perked up because I have my own opinions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were already 354 replies and I did not
read but a few, but it set me to thinking about how helpful it would have been
42 years ago to know what I know now at age 62.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By no means am I a professional spendthrift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is a fulltime job and I have a job, but
as my husband and I retire and our incomes become fixed we will be having more
time and less money so am reverting to my single-stay-at-home-mother mentality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mother-in-law’s was not the only sage advice that I got
early on in my adult life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My neighbor
when my first child was born, who later became my step-mother, told me, “The
only part of my budget I really can control is food.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took that to heart and to this day it
upsets me to have to throw away moldy or expired food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My first and best advice to save money on
food is to shop in your cupboard and refrigerator when planning meals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Find recipes to use what you have before you
run to the store to buy a long list of ingredients for that wonderful recipe you
saw on the Food Network.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Save that
recipe for a truly special occasion. The result of NOT shopping in your
cupboard and freezer is a lot of waste and once again you might as well throw
your money in the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This was brought home when our old freezer (which had been
my dad and step-mom’s and probably draining money in electricity) died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That meant salvaging what I could and tossing
the rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I discovered things that had
put in there months and YEARS earlier and was furious at the waste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We replaced the freezer with a much smaller
version and I have become a fanatic about making sure stu ff gets used.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I loved watching “Extreme Couponing” on TLC.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have couponed, but not that extremely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For one thing, as I referred to above, it
takes time to dumpster dive for multiple copies of coupons, organize them, and
make a battle plan as to which stores have what on sale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe when I am retired and have more time I
will be able to do more in that direction, but I do get online for Fred Meyer
and load coupons onto my rewards card and take advantage of their 55 and over
days that give a 10% discount on the health and organic items that we use.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s another tricky tight rope and another
blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First Tuesday is this Tuesday so I
guess I’d better get busy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-49053838579987731952013-10-21T06:43:00.000-07:002013-10-21T06:43:50.492-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><strong>From Commuter Husband to Mr. Mom</strong></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After spending sixteen months as a commuter husband, living
and working in Arizona while my middle aged Special Needs daughter and I
remained in Washington, my husband Dave scarce had time to draw breath on his
return than to begin his new duties as a co-Mr. Mom to our grandson Gabriel
while my daughter-in-law hurried to Brazil to support her critically ill
mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If that sentence leaves you
breathless, it is intentional.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have
been on a whirlwind that begs the question of whether or not this is retirement
for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even though Ana didn’t leave for a day after Dave’s return,
that day was filled with the internment of both of Dave’s parents while she
hurriedly packed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was followed the
next day by a memorial celebration of his father’s life (we did his mother’s in
September) while Ana was attempting to get out of a socked in SeaTac.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The role of Mr. Mom will be a bit new for Dave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although he is one of seven sons and has four
grown step children, being responsible for Gabriel during the day for at least
a month will be a first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gabriel is
homeschooled and has many activities during the day, particularly on
Tuesdays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I predict that they will
collapse in a heap after play practice (Gabriel is appearing as the chubby
German boy in Willy Wonka—which is a stretch for a tall skinny Brazilian-American)
for three hours at the Lakewood Little Theater followed by the Gig Harbor Youth
Orchestra followed by his group violin lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>GranDave will have to make sure to take a thermos of coffee and plenty
of reading material.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Amidst his many activities Gabriel is homeschooled so GranDave
will be acting as schoolmarm, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because
my son Frank is a school teacher himself in the Lakewood School District and beginning
his National Boards certification he can only be responsible for Gabriel in the
evenings and with the National Boards, sometimes not even then. I have a job as
a para educator in the Peninsula School District so the daytime duties for
Gabriel’s care will fall on my husband’s shoulders although we ought to be able
to tag-team some things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today we are starting easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have another day of bereavement leave and Gabriel has only his private
violin lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We plan to take my
daughter and him to the $2 movie this morning, followed by lunch at Subway
before the violin lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although I can
take Gabriel to his group lesson tomorrow after work, the bulk of Tiring Tuesday
will fall to GranDave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Ana asked
Dave to step into this role he was in the process of helping bring his father’s
remains home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t hesitate a
second to say, yes because he saw his own brother put his life on hold for six
months to care for their ailing parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As my blogging friend Lorrene LeMaster has said, families are like
chainlink fences and you can’t let the links break if the fence is to stay
strong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-31023660373247930312013-10-17T06:53:00.000-07:002013-10-17T06:53:36.735-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="center">
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">The End of an Odyssey </span></strong></div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=aNQjoDaX1-k" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=aNQjoDaX1-k</a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ana’s mother needs a triple
by-pass so she needs to go [to Brazil].<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She wants Gabriel to stay here and keep his life as normal as
possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s wondering if he can stay
with you during the day while Frank and I are at work,” I said into my cell
phone to my husband Dave, who is driving home from his odyssey as a commuter
husband that’s lasted sixteen months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Absolutely,” Dave said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I was just talking to Phil about how he and
Eva put their lives on hold for the last six months to take care of our
parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s what families do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I know,” I said. “That’s what I
told Ana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She cried.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’ve all been crying too much of
late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Dave made the decision to
return to work in June of 2012 it was to pay off some debt and give him some
closure with his job which had ended abruptly when Lockheed Martin closed
Seattle Flight Service and moved their services to Prescott, AZ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was devastating for me personally, but
despite my belief that it would not get easier, it did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At that time I told him that our
parents were aging and fragile, especially his mother, and that it was possible
that one or more of them might die while he was gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it turns out, both of Dave’s parents
passed during his time in Arizona.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fortunately, he was able to see them several times and was actually at
home in Gig Harbor when his mother died in August.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am glad that he was not alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was not so fortunate, when a day shy of a
month later, his father joined his mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the words of his brother Corky, it seemed that he could not do
without her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We are comforted by the fact that
Dave’s brother Phil and his sister-in-law Eva stepped in to care for the boys’
parents when their mom’s health took a nose dive in April.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that their loving care of Walt and
Dottie eased the guilt that Dave felt about being 1,500 miles away and
prolonged their mother’s life by several months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, Phil and Eva uprooted their lives
to come from Temecula, California to care for the parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have been the embodiment of how we ought
to all treat our loved ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They put
their lives and creditors on hold because caring for my in-laws was more
important than anything as far as they were concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ultimately my mother-in-law said, “Phil, you
need to go home and we’ll go with you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That is how it came to be that both of the boys (there are seven
brothers) parents died in Temecula and how it came to be that three of the boys—Dave
included—are bringing their father’s ashes back to the Puget Sound area for
internment with their mother at Tahoma National Cemetery tomorrow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The trip back to Washington has
been a sentimental journey for the boys (if you can call men in their sixties
boys) and a fitting end to Dave’s time in Arizona.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Phil, the romantic and most tender hearted of
the bunch, decided that the best way to return the parents’ motorhome and their
father’s ashes was to take Walt on one last road trip, stopping along the way
to visit with family including the graves of both grandparents in Idaho and
Eastern Washington.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dave left Arizona on
Sunday and in Sacramento on Monday met Phil and Eva who had picked up Steve who’d
flown in from Seattle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They stayed with
cousins and then began caravanning home. Tuesday was their long day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They drove for nineteen hours, only stopping
for dinner in Salem, Oregon where they met my best friend, who grew up with all
of us, and had dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of their stop my friend Nikki
wrote, “It was a privilege to spend time with all of them and hear them
reminisce about their parents. Phil got teary eyed when he talked about
Walt dying--I could tell he was a feeler! Eva is very sweet and Steve was
quite thoughtful about everything. It is really a beautiful tribute to
their parents and such a touching way to honor them. Just because the
others haven't joined in will never, ever take away from what these 3 brothers
have done--together. They will always have this memory and will be helped
in their grieving by doing this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They pressed on until midnight
where they stopped in Walla Walla before going on to Lewiston/Clarkston where
their mother grew up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yesterday they went to Nez Perce,
Idaho where their father was born and raised, visiting the graves of their
grandparents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was on their way there
that I was able to get ahold of Dave and tell him about our daughter-in-law’s
mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did not hesitate for a second
to say that he would become the grandpa version of Mr. Mom, seeing that Gabriel
gets to his lessons and activities and does his homeschool work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The events of the past year and a half have
changed all of us in many ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It seems like we will have little
time to catch our breaths from Dave’s Arizona odyssey and the internment and
memorializing of his parents before he steps into his role as
stay-at-home-grandpa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s coming home
none-too-soon!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-63145069615960806682013-10-05T07:40:00.002-07:002013-10-05T07:41:36.478-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Sentimental Journey</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></strong> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Sentimental
Journey was one of the iconic songs of WWII.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Doris Day recorded on November 20<sup>th</sup> 1944 with the Les Brown
Orchestra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is bittersweet about going
home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They say you can never go home
again, but ultimately you can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two of my
six brothers-in-law will be making a sentimental journey with their father’s
remains as they drive them in his motorhome from Temecula, CA to Tahoma
National Cemetery in Kent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They plan to
stop and see relatives, living and dead, along the way and spots that their
parents loved to visit in their motor home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Said my brother-in-law Phil, the third of the seven boys who cared for
both of their parents until they died within a month of one another, “</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We are going to bring Dad up in his RV, stopping at several
locations: Judy and Diane's homes [cousins] in Sacramento, The Redwoods, The
Oregon Coast and finally Grandma and Grandpa's grave site in Clarkston. From
there on home to the final resting place at Tahoma National.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I had to wipe the tears from my eyes
when I read of the planned trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These
have been hard times for the Haeck family and hardest of all on Phil and his
family who stepped up to the plate and cared for the parents as their mother’s
health failed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had looked forward
to spending some time with their father, but it seemed that, as so often
happens, he could not long stand being separated from his wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now Phil will perform this last act of love
in bringing his father home to the Puget Sound area where the couple raised
seven wonderful sons to be buried with his beloved wife at Tahoma National
Cemetery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Steve, the oldest of the boys,
will be journeying with them and Dave, who will be returning from his year and
a half as a commuter husband in Arizona, plans to meet them along the road as
he journeys home himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">“We
are having a sign printed,” wrote Phil, “to hang on the back of the RV. ‘This
RV is carrying Lt. Walter E Haeck home to rest at Tahoma National Cemetery.
1919-2013.’ Anyone who wants to come along or join the caravan at any point
along the way is very welcome.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walter Haeck
and Dorothy Haeck </span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">will be interned at Tahoma (if the shutdown ends) at 2 PM on
October 18<span style="font-size: small;"><sup>th</sup>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A celebration
of Walt’s life will be at Lake Sammamish State Park at 2 PM the following
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Family and friends are invited to
honor Walt’s love of the out-of-doors.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-39069508343294250872013-09-17T18:43:00.001-07:002013-09-17T18:43:54.618-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Changing Seasons</strong></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My husband Dave’s birthday is on or just after the first day
of Fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps that is why his mother
began baking him plum sauce cake for a birthday cake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Certainly the cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves
fill the house with an aroma that speaks Autumn’s name. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Originally Dave, who has been living and working in Arizona
since June of 2012, had planned to drive to his brother’s in Temecula, CA on
his birthday to see his parents while they were visiting there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had planned to mail the cake there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then Dave’s mother died on August 17<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’d been unwell for some time, but seemed
to be coming back in inches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dave had
gone to see her and his dad just the week before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am grateful that this first injury occurred
while he happened to be at home surrounded by our household.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember when I first met Dave’s parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told them that I was happy to meet the
people who’d raised such a nice son and on top of that raised seven of
them!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My four paled by comparison.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went on to discover that all of the boys
were not just nice, but extraordinary in their humor, sense, and hearts. I
still believe that they are marvelous people because they were raised by
marvelous people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ve only to look
at each other and see what gifts their parents gave to them—each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an only child, I believe I know what that
means.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dave, the second of the seven, had joked that had he been a
girl there would have only been two Haeck offspring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dottie laughed and said, “Noooo, that’s not
true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just love children.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is the truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved children so much that besides
raising her own seven she did daycare for neighborhood children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of them attended her memorial and spoke
with such love of this little woman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Early in our marriage Dottie gave me the recipe for plum
sauce cake neatly printed on old fashioned recipe cards—we didn’t have a
computer then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today as I looked at
those cards and measured and mixed Dave’s cake I felt her presence and although
I know that this cake will be little compensation for losing a mother, much
less losing both parents—for today, one month after Dottie’s passing, Dave’s
dad joined her, her name on his lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am grieved that Dave is 1,500 miles from those who love him
this night when he is feeling so, so, alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I cannot hug or comfort him—only bake a cake that I’ll put in the mail
tomorrow for his birthday on Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
know from experience the cake won’t make Dave’s heart heal for nothing ever
truly heals these losses. As the seasons of the Earth are changing so is the season of Dave's life and I hope that in the cake he’ll taste the memories
of other birthdays when everyone he loved was still alive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-55689785128583293092013-09-10T21:13:00.000-07:002013-09-10T21:13:06.812-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Taking Care of Business Every Day</strong></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you are a Baby Boomer and are lucky enough to still have
living parents, chances are their health and welfare is becoming more and more
your responsibility. I am a 62-year-old only child of a mother who will be 91 a
less than a week and I live 150 miles from her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hopefully within the next year my husband, daughter and I will be moving
nearer, but in the meantime we are dealing with the issues that come up with
having a parent age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From this distance
it’s a little like juggling cats against the backdrop of working as Special
Education Para educator, having an adult child with Special , and having a
husband living and working 1,500 miles away for the last year and a half. I have what is known as a "commuter marriage."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day requires the planning of a
general.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately I have some
officers in the form of a son and daughter-in-law who live with us and another
son and daughter-in-law twenty minutes away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Many family caregivers are not so fortunate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So far my mother has remained relatively independent, living
alone in her own subsidized apartment with a minimum of help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She does not desire to go into an assisted
living arrangement and we are doing whatever we can to keep her where she is
for as long as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Other people
die in this building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why can’t I,” she
has asked. Keeping track of her deductible expenses to keep her qualified for her low rent has fallen to me as well as bill paying, although we've managed to make most of that automatic.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In 1985 my mother had a serious bout of cellulitis fueled by
MRSA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To this day we don’t know how she
contracted it, but it rears its ugly head from time to time and I have to be
prepared to get her seen by a doctor when it happens and monitor her
recovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the doctor doesn’t order
home health and a visiting nurse, I ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My mother is not a good reporter and will sugar coat things on the phone
so I want trained eyes to see her blisters and whether or not they are getting
better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s the fun we’ve been having
right now—organizing a visiting nurse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The health is a big issue and in addition to home health I
pay for a medic alert device and it’s been worth every penny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After doing some research on the Internet I
chose Get Help Now because they didn’t require a long term contract.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With an elderly person you could sign up for
three years and be stuck with a couple of years contract when they pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are on a six month contract which seems
far more reasonable.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When my mother began to take multiple medications at first I counted pills. This was nerve wracking especially when she attempted to do it and I found mistakes that either of us had made. Then I discovered that for very little extra the pharmacy will blister pack her medications. She gets two cards each month, one for the morning and one for the evening. That was a good sized stone lifted off of me!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some things as small and yet as huge as garbage can be
daunting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother, with some effort,
can get her garbage out of the kitchen can and on a good day onto her walker to
take down in the apartment building elevator, but lifting the lid of the big
green dumpster is a no-go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not all
that easy for me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She asked a neighbor
if we could pay her to take out the garbage and so for a pittance she puts the
bag in the hall and it disappears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
neighbor needs the money and my mother definitely needs the help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Without this arrangement Mother could not remain in her own place.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Laundry is another problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My mother has toppled over in the laundry room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through a local agency that assists the old
and infirm we hire someone to spend 1.5 hrs. per week at my mom’s, mostly doing
laundry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If need by we’ve stretched her
fixed income to cover 2 hrs. but it is a stretch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This week the chore person is taking my
mother to the doctor so the laundry will be waiting for me when I make my
bi-weekly run to the coast to shop and do whatever else she needs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m glad that my mother doesn’t have to take dial-a-ride to the doctor
because sometimes she has to wait as long as an hour to get a ride home which
is tiring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With both my mother and my daughter letting them make
decisions is crucial so that they maintain a sense of autonomy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In other words I pick my battles to build
political capital for times when I have to insist. “Are you going to have a
shower this morning or wait until tonight?” vs. “No, is not an option.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my job I have seen what not letting an
individual feel that they have any control over their life can do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You end up with behaviors you don’t want and
contention that makes life unpleasant for everyone concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all part of my juggling act.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will be so grateful when my husband’s time
away from home is done and I have him as a helpmate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both my mother and daughter react differently
to him which makes me laugh, but whatever gets the job done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Recently my husband’s parents became in need of 24 hour
care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of seeing his parents go
into an institution or adult family home, which they most definitely did not
want, one of my brothers-in-law and his wife stepped up to the plate and left
their lives on hold to care for my in-laws.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Their care has been nothing short of extraordinary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They kept them first in the parents’ own
apartment and then took them into their own home where they could be assisted
by their own adult son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a dying
mother and a father suffering from short term memory loss they have had their
hands full, but they have cared for them with patience and love they would not
receive from strangers in an institution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I stand in awe of them and wonder if I could do the same.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many nights I lose sleep wondering about those I love. Tonight I will sleep well as my mother has organized her own ride to the doctor tomorrow to get wound care.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-79418732362410240232013-09-03T17:03:00.000-07:002013-09-03T17:10:09.416-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Tomorrow is the First Day of the Rest of My Life</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life--trite, but
true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow is the first day of my
last school year working as a Special Education para educator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have mixed emotions as I like my job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, I have the best job in school district
because I work with the best student in the best high school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have amiable workmates who are the cherries
on my work sundae.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So why not keep
working?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reasons are multiple.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Unfortunately, retiring and collecting both my Social
Security and my retirement will actually give me a raise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have always joked and said that if I kept
working much longer the district would expect me to pay <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">them</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t far off the
mark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will be 63 in February so am
already eligible to collect SS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
first began working with my student when he was a freshman I told him that I
wouldn’t retire on him, that we’d graduate together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has come to be very dear to me and makes
each day a joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He says that between the
two of us we make one good brain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
makes me laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am his hands; he is
the brains in our outfit and very forbearing to tolerate spending the better
part of 6.5 hours of his days with an old lady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In some other life he could have been my grandson. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow he begins his senior year which means
nine more months to help him prepare to make his way in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will always need and have help, but it’s
time for him to spread his wings and find his path, even if it is in a
wheelchair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For over a year I have been living in a commuter marriage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In June 2012 my husband Dave and I determined
that it was necessary for him to return to work for Lockheed Martin to help pay
some debts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had retired when Lockheed
closed their Seattle Flight Service, but had offered him jobs in other
facilities over the years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally it
seemed an offer that couldn’t be refused, especially when we discovered that he
could rent a room from an old friend from his FAA Bakersfield days who happened
to be working at the Prescott, AZ facility that offered Dave the job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The year plus of having a commuter marriage,
which I discovered is not all that uncommon (not a good commentary on American
life), has been a year of learning for both of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dave admits that in the beginning there was a
certain amount of excitement with regards to living somewhere new for a
while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That wore off somewhat rapidly
when he realized that life was going on at home without him where grandchildren
were growing and changing and I was learning to do without him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That has not always been easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is home for a few days to attend his
mother’s funeral and admitted that he doesn’t want me to get along <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too</i> well without him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anxious to feel needed he had not even
unpacked before he started doing chores around the house as if he’d never
left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We get by without him, but I am
the first to admit that life is much smoother <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with</i> him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Originally Dave’s
move to Prescott had an end date of his 62<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup> birthday (SS) this
month, but a little raise has enticed him to stay into October to sell back his
annual leave at the higher rate and get two more pay checks so it’s home before
Halloween now with the plan for him to do some projects on our Gig Harbor house
with an eye for selling it. Then we can move to our other house in Ilwaco, WA
which will presumably be cheaper to live in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The move to Ilwaco will also put me within six blocks of my
nearly 92 year old mother who so far is remaining in her own apartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time I have to come away from Ilwaco I
worry about her despite the fact that we pay for a chore person once a week,
one of the neighbors to take out the garbage and for a medic alert system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This week we are burying Dave’s mother whose
birthday would have been Friday, just 11 days before my mother’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think I will ever regret spending
more time with mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last, but most important, reason for me to want to quit
my job is my own Special Needs daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Amy is 42.5 years old and has Down’s Syndrome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The average life expectancy for people with
an extra 21<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">st</span></sup> chromosome is 50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I feel the clock ticking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can
be frustrating and stubborn and loves me more than anyone ever will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is a gift with whom I want to spend as
much time as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There have been
times during Dave’s absence that she’s been alone for 7 hours a day at home,
although for the most part my daughter-in-law has been at home with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While she’s happiest with her own company and
knows she can reach me at any time by calling my cell phone and I am only ten
minutes away, those have been anxiety ridden hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dave is not Amy’s biological father, but she
has him wrapped around her tiny pinkie and one of the things that made me fall
in love with Dave was a remark he made when we were first “keeping company.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said, “It’s nice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll always have Amy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who could not love a man that thinks it’s not
only okay to have my child always with me, but desirable and then was willing
to take on a ready-made family that included her three brothers and
grandmother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps I’m lucky that he
didn’t run away and join the circus <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before</i>
21 years had passed! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So tomorrow begins the first day of the rest of my life and
my last first day of school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
exciting is that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-67956865771501563102013-09-01T07:52:00.000-07:002013-09-01T07:53:47.757-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><strong>The Power of the Past</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>I will be wearing her cameo and remembering her smile</strong> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My husband would tell you that I am entirely too attached to
“things.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dave is not particularly
sentimental.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I balance his deficit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like old things which becomes more
important daily as we become old ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I love our 132 year old house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
like that it had a history when we bought it more than 20 years ago and I like
that we’ve added to that history by marking on the kitchen door jamb the height
of the children and grandchildren as they have grown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love old kitchen utensils.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I use them I think about the women who
may have owned them before and the families they fed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can see them in kitchens of the ‘40s, ‘30s
and ‘20s and envision laughing, hungry families.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I attach even more importance to the things I have that have
belonged to people I love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have many
things that belonged to my father—his WWII medals, his pipe, a bracelet he
crafted while in the Navy with his name and ID number.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The things that hold the most significance
for me are the pieces of jewelry that have belonged to the significant women in
my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From them I draw strength
because they were, for the most part, strong women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From my paternal grandmother I have a few
pieces of costume jewelry. From my step-mother I have the engagement ring my
father gave her in 1972.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From my
mother-in-law I have a painted cameo she gave me several years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been hers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wore it the last time I saw her as her
health was failing and I saw her eyes rest on it and she smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew I wore it for her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOOBmnIk33QA0Gmy9P4r-4s6N3dYJYHCyasj8itGaKadPH05wzOG-CPdqzIQ8L-Zbz-sbE2us6Bmfm8ZDC9v1ElT-UszBVAHwm_qfIDsJ7V8WrJvnWK-BgvrAJ7yJHp4xOa5RtZEFWv5yg/s1600/20130901_073808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOOBmnIk33QA0Gmy9P4r-4s6N3dYJYHCyasj8itGaKadPH05wzOG-CPdqzIQ8L-Zbz-sbE2us6Bmfm8ZDC9v1ElT-UszBVAHwm_qfIDsJ7V8WrJvnWK-BgvrAJ7yJHp4xOa5RtZEFWv5yg/s320/20130901_073808.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes when I have an important appointment that I don’t
want to keep, that scares me, I will put on several pieces of my heirloom
jewelry and carry these women with me as I do battle with the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> These things become talismans. </span>On September 6<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> and 7<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>
our family will be memorializing my mother-in-law, Dottie Haeck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This sweet tiny lady raised seven boys and
kept her sanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are each of them
delightful and successful human beings!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What a wonderful legacy she leaves behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will be wearing her cameo and remembering
her smile during the coming weekend as we celebrate her life and bid her
farewell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-76433797064486051532013-08-27T13:09:00.000-07:002013-08-27T13:09:13.275-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Looking Toward the Firsts and the Lasts</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Amy’s and my summer at the shore is coming to an end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are getting ready to head home to Gig
Harbor so that I can go back to work at Gig Harbor High School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time of year is always filled with mixed
emotions for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like my job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I assist the most amiable eighteen year old
student who is forbearing with an aide who is an old lady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This will be our fourth year together and
other than a new schedule, we have our ways of getting things done and have
been together long enough to finish each other’s sentences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have similar senses of humor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The past few days the weather has been cool and even a bit
rainy which would make my husband, was he here, sad, but it does not me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yesterday afternoon as I dozed on the couch
before a DVD a sound reached my ears which I’d not heard for a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For more than 20 years I’ve tried to discover
that it is on our front porch that creaks in the wind to no avail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a slow creak as I would imagine the
ropes of a sailing ship creaking against a wooden mast as the ship rocks upon
the water rather in keeping with the fact that our 132 year old house is two
blocks from the Port of Ilwaco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
come to love the sound, but was surprised to hear it since the sun had been
making a gallant effort to make an appearance when I’d set the sprinkler to
watering the garden which I needn’t have bothered with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now it was raining.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Returning to a job I enjoy is some compensation for leaving
the creaking house by the sea that I love as is the turning of the
seasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realize that Autumn does not
officially begin until September 22<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup> (my husband’s birthday) this
year, but my favorite season is whispering her name and leaves from the birch
tree are littering the yard between the house and the barn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took the combination of Mother Nature’s
behavior as signs that it was the time to shift some things <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">inside </i>from Summer to Autumn mode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out are coming my harvest table runners,
table clothes and napkins along with my collection of pumpkins and turkeys and
my happy Autumn crow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once I am back in
my routine of work and coming to Ilwaco to help my almost 91 year old mother, I
have little time for what I call “playing house” otherwise known as decorating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One twist on the end of Summer this year is that our
financial advisor says that I can make this my last year of working for the
school district.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a matter of fact
between my retirement and Social Security, I will get a little raise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will mean living frugally because Dave is
also leaving his job at Lockheed Martin in Prescott, AZ where he’s been since
June of ’12 and returning to Gig Harbor to begin collecting his Social
Security, along with his retirement from the FAA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will soon be embarking on a new phase of
our life as we shift our lives from Gig Harbor to Ilwaco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There will be the sadness of having the
children and grandchildren farther away, but Dave is certain that we can live
more cheaply in our house by the sea than in an upscale suburb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mostly I want to be nearer to my elderly mother and spend
more time with my Special Needs daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The average life expectancy of an individual with Down’s Syndrome is
50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amy is 42.5 years and I bless each
day with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can be extra work,
infuriatingly stubborn, and loves me more than anyone ever will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would not trade one day with her for any
other day so regardless of finances or other inconveniences; I am excited about
the changes to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will undoubtedly
be a time of firsts and lasts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-38352149830453448182013-08-10T08:54:00.001-07:002013-08-10T15:47:00.391-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Grammy Camp 2013</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What a difference a year makes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last year when my granddaughter Linda spent
five days with my daughter Amy and me at our house in Ilwaco on the Long Beach
Peninsula we had a wonderful time, but she suffered from some anxiety that
manifested itself in her wanting to call her parents several times a day—which I
finally had to limit—her calling <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>
if I went to the barn and some worrisome headaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To a great extent
she was enamored of our corded phone which we keep because it is the only sort
of phone my special needs daughter understands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Think how much fun a phone with a dial would have been!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So what I refer to as “Grammy Camp” was
different this year from last.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year
she went for days without thinking to call her parents and did not all me once.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What made our time together particularly special this year
was Linda’s interaction with her Aunt Amy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For the most part when it comes to children, or much of anyone else, Amy
is like W.C. Fields, “Go away kid, you bother me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surprisingly enough Linda, who celebrated her
ninth birthday in June, seems to have hit an age compatible to her aunt’s
mental age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the magical
intersection of their lives and lovely to watch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aunt Amy allowed Linda to watch movies with
her in her room—a first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s reluctantly
allowed nephew Gabriel into her room in Gig Harbor, but this was
different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They sat hugging on Amy’s bed
and watching a Barbie DVD on her personal DVD player.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d already managed to get Amy to watch
movies with me in the evening instead of disappearing into her bedroom directly
after dinner and with Linda in our company they snuggled together on the sofa
to watch American Girl and Barbie movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They giggled and enjoyed making fart noises with their mouths and hands
and did a lot of hugging which, for all of Amy’s humbugging, is one of her
favorite activities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The day we arrived in Ilwaco with Linda we hurriedly ate our
lunch and then went to Ft. Columbia where we were first in line for seating to
see the Peninsula Association of Performing Artists (PAPA) production of “The Wizard
of Oz.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PAPA always does a wonderful
job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last summer Amy begged to see “Into
the Woods” twice so when I ordered tickets for Oz I figured two performances,
with one to include Linda, in my plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The girls were enchanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hope
Bellinger, who played Dorothy, had been enchanting last year as Red Riding
Hood, but really came into her own as Dorothy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everyone involved with the production was marvelous including the very
well behaved dog that played Toto! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">From the time Linda could stand on a stool to reach the
kitchen counter she has liked to cook so when I mentioned making some Rose
Petal Jam, she was enthusiastic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
interested in all of the steps from the purchasing of the jars and sterilizing
them, to the picking of the rose petals, to the making of the jam and pouring
the wax on top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Linda lettered the
labels and was very proud to set aside two jars to take to her parents and one
to take to one of her favorite adults, local author Sydney Stevens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">First Tuesday was discount day at the Fred Meyer store in
Warrenton, Oregon so we went shopping for some back-to-school clothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, what we wanted was a jacket and
some uniforms as the Tacoma School District, much to my delight, has uniforms
and Linda was ready for some larger skirts and pants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boy did we get the wrong number.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only must Astoria and Warrenton
apparently not have uniforms, global warming must have called off Winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides Fred Meyer we looked at Ross, J.C.
Penny’s, Costco and our local shop Dennis Company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No jackets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Linda didn’t come home empty handed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She got underwear with the names of the days of the week on them, a pair
of Crocks for herself and a pair for her younger sister Lydia, and a four disk
set of American Girl movies which entertained us over the course of two nights.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Although Linda had brought workbooks (when she completes the
big one her parents have promised a video game) she hadn’t brought a book to
read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to read in bed at night and
Linda knew I had some Nancy Drew books which I’d picked up at thrift stores so
she selected one and we took turns reading it aloud and she packed it in the
car to read on trips to Astoria and back home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’d seen a copy of the volume that was first in the Nancy Drew series at
an antique store in Klipsan so when our travels took us to the north end of the
Peninsula we stopped and picked up an edition of The Secret of the Old Clock
that looked very much like the one I’d had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It pleased me that it pleased Linda so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
explained that when Auntie Gail and I would come to my grandparents’ beach
house in Seaview there was no DVD player or television and the way we
entertained ourselves in the evenings was by reading Nancy Drew books and
trading them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we’d done that we
begged my father for a trip to the bookstore for another couple!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Linda also got an introduction to Bronte and Austen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We watched Jane Eyre and when I described
some of the things that the movie left out she asked if I had a copy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Linda is headed into 4<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> grade and
I believe that when I was a child we were introduced to Bronte and Austen more
along the lines of 6<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> grade, but I didn’t want to miss bonding
moment and as I have a Bronte collection that Dave gave me, I was happy to pass
along a 1943 illustrated copy of Jane Eyre I picked up at a garage sale years
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She won’t be up to reading it just
yet, but she told her mother she wants the movie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Linda’s favorite destination when she comes to the beach is
Oysterville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three years ago she
accompanied GranDave and me to a house concert at the home of local author
Sydney Stevens and became enamored of Sydney instantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t hurt that Sydney lives in a
historic house in the historic village and always Linda says, “Are we going to
see Sydney?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sydney came to our house
around the 4<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> of July and even wrote a blog about Linda’s lemonade
stand that garnered her $50 at twenty-five cents a cup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time Mrs. Stevens had issued an
invitation to come to tea at her house and Linda brought <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">two</i> dresses to choose from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because Mr. Stevens had just celebrated his birthday we arose the
morning of the day of the tea and made him brownies to take along with the jar
of Rose Petal Jam and a jar candle made from one of the little canning jars,
colored popcorn and a fall scented tea light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since we were early we “toured” Oysterville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I showed Linda the community hall which had
been one of the one-room schools that educated Oysterville children in the past
and is where GranDave and Grammy had their wedding reception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Across the street from the Espy House where
Sydney lives is the Oysterville Church where Linda has been to vespers, but
which she didn’t realize is where Grammy and GranDave were married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyone who has been in company with Sydney Stevens, who is
also a retired elementary teacher, can understand how enchanted a youngster
could be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Stevens captivated Linda
with stories about the history of the Peninsula as well as discussing books and
school and life in general.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tea she
provided was definitely kid-friendly with jelly beans and gum drops as well as
tea sandwiches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before arriving at the
Espy House we had paid a visit at the Oysterville Store where we purchased a
copy of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">P is for the Papa Train</i> for
Linda and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Local Legendary Characters </i>for
a friend of mine which we had Sydney sign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When we returned to our house Linda mentioned seeing some shops that are
for sale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She now has plans to purchase
one and make Rose Petal Jam for a living. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a lovely idea!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Linda has many of the American Girl books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like them for although they have a story
line they are infused with history and societal issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Linda first learned about the Great
Depression from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kit </i>which led to a
conversation with her great-grandmother about what life was like during that
era and to us listening to some of my large collection of radio program
recordings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Watching the DVDs meant we
could include Aunt Amy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we got done
watching <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Samantha</i> Linda mentioned how
disturbing it was to learn that children had worked in factories in the early
part of the 20<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> century where they could be injured and the factory
owners didn’t care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was grateful to
learn that laws now protect not only children, but workers in general.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Felicity
</i>took us all the way back to the year before the American Revolution and how
complicated it was for a community to deal with issues of the loyalists vs. the
patriots along with what was expected of a proper young lady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Molly</i>,
Molly’s growth in understanding herself and the larger world during WWII are
good life lessons and the fact that people lacked email and cell phones in
those days when daddies were gone for months and years with only letters, weeks
old, to sustain little girls. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Linda had
learned that her father would not be home for a day when she returned and that
also led to a discussion of the months that my father was gone to the South
Pacific testing the atomic bomb and how much I missed him with only letters to
sustain <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You can <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">call</i>,
Daddy,” I told her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I could do nothing
but wait for the mailman.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our final full day of Grammy Camp was a trip to the Flavel
House in Astoria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It fit in well with
watching the<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Samantha</i> DVD since
Captain Flavel’s home is of an era in keeping with the houses we’d seen in the
movie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had planned to go last year,
but Linda developed a headache (home-sickness?) and had a lay-down instead so
we were making up for lost time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
watched the little movie that is shown in the carriage house where visitors
purchase “calling cards” (more history discussion and explanations) to enter
the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think the bathrooms (“What
strange toilets!”) amazed Linda most.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After we came back outside Linda declared that Flavel House is her dream
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since it is unlikely to come on
the market, I showed her another, not-quite-as-grand house on the hill in
eastern Astoria that might do well and actually was on the market a few years
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A girl can dream, can’t she?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Friday was back to reality, but not without a stop in the ‘50s
at Slater’s Diner in Raymond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slater’s
has become a favorite stop for us and it was fun to see Linda bouncing to rock ‘n
roll that was popular when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>was her
age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Linda’s week with me was also her
introduction to chocolate malts which she embraces with enthusiasm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fully expect Linda to spend other summer
vacations with us and I know there will be adventures and fun aplenty (there
are plenty of things we didn’t have time for this year), but this was truly a
magical week—at least for me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-2800679117017304112013-08-01T15:55:00.000-07:002013-08-01T15:55:59.524-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Rose Petal Jam<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It has been years since I made rose petal jam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last summer, with Dave’s absence, I was
struggling to keep the flower beds weeded and watered and the lawn mowed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year I’ve done what Dave encouraged me
to do last year and hired garden help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It has freed me to accomplish other projects such as painting the porch
furniture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I sat in my beautifully
painted lavender chair I surveyed the garden and the roses, which are plentiful
this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I remembered rose petal
jam and how the making fills the house with the scent of roses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is like capturing a little of summer in a
jar and I decided that it would make good Christmas gifts so I was off to the
store for jars, paraffin, sugar and Certo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 ½ C. cleaned rose petals—preferably red or dark pink
petals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yellow or pale pink petals do
not make an attractive product.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t use
those that are rusted or wilted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2 C. water<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">3 ½ C. sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2 T. lemon juice<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">½ bottle or one envelope of Certo*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*If you don’t wish or don’t have Certo you can use 6 ¾ C. or
3 pounds of sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">~From <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Key to Greek
Cooking</i>, published by the Greek Orthodox Church of the Assumption Guild,
Seattle, WA, 1960.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wash petals gently in a large bowl and drain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Put petals in a large saucepan with the water
and bring to boil until transparent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Remove from heat and let stand for about 10 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Place on high heat, add sugar and lemon juice
and boil hard for one minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remove
from heat and add Certo, stirring constantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fill sterile jars and seal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
recipe makes about ten 4oz jars, leaving room for paraffin on top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I chose small jars so that the jam can be
Christmas gifts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a little left
over that I put in a custard cup for use right away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also included a T. of culinary lavender
which is optional.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-63525319216460835262013-07-23T09:43:00.002-07:002013-07-23T09:43:49.232-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwI1aE7Z53X2YUrU7VvVZ8xcjy0dAZgsXJfZBoZXVpXuEy7hU2KozbdeOloI1U8Wu6R1ePpQZEOjjMJX1ggxqSoihIEzqctBwumo7omt8Qfe56mZH2SBznVTFXdS9fIwRJcZYgNsTgdW_/s1600/formal-wedding-invitation-wording-samples.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwI1aE7Z53X2YUrU7VvVZ8xcjy0dAZgsXJfZBoZXVpXuEy7hU2KozbdeOloI1U8Wu6R1ePpQZEOjjMJX1ggxqSoihIEzqctBwumo7omt8Qfe56mZH2SBznVTFXdS9fIwRJcZYgNsTgdW_/s200/formal-wedding-invitation-wording-samples.jpg" width="166" /></a></div>
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</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Pleasure of Your Company is Requested<o:p></o:p></span></strong></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
</div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Technology is brilliant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I love this magic box that connects me to the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has allowed me to reestablish connections
with people that otherwise might have been lost to me forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love the devise I carry in my pocket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It allows me almost instant contact with my
absent husband and children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unfortunately, sometimes electronic technology fails.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have discovered that text messages between
my husband who is in Arizona and me in Washington can float round over Idaho or
Nevada for hours before popping into our cellphones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Email is also not fool proof, but somewhat
more reliable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Despite my regard for technology, I still prefer postal
mail—which has unfortunately been dubbed “snail mail” because of the perception
that it can take forever for something mailed to arrive at its
destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, I know that there are
still WWII era letters turning up in the mail, but considering the volume of
mail the USPS has handled over 200+ years I think they do pretty well at rather
little expense given the cost of transportation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Remember when you were little and planning a birthday
party?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your mother got a class list from
the teacher and you chose invitations at the store and filled them out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You may have taken them to school and hand
delivered them to your classmates, but they had something to carry home to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">their</i> mothers with the details of the
birthday celebration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now there are websites where you can electronically create
invitations, add your email list and voila, off they go with no stamps and at
very little trouble to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe that
last ought to be the red flag—very little trouble to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be warned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My daughter-in-law has relied on this method of inviting people to her
child’s party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The result was that some
important people, such as grandparents, did not receive the invitation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh, it must have gone into your junk file,” I’ve been told.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Your security is too high.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In this scenario the sender has made it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i> fault that I did not receive the
invitation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trust me; I get plenty of
junk in my email in-box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is the
point of a junk file if one needs to be weeding through it to make sure that
something important didn’t get funneled that way?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How important can it be if the sender did not
think it worthy of a stamp or a phone call? In the most recent instance the
mother-of-the-groom has said that “There is a problem with the website the kids
chose.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a problem with the method of
delivery the almost-middle-aged bride and groom chose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Those of us married in the last century probably remember
the excitement of choosing our invitations, carefully selecting the typeface
and wording, and then delicately addressing those invitations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A friend of mine, who was good at
calligraphy, addressed mine as a gift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When my oldest son got married the bride, her matron-of-honor, and I had
a little addressing party of which I have fond memories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the coming together of two extended
families and tell family stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Generally,
somewhere in these sorts of invitations were the words “the pleasure of your
company is requested” because you genuinely wanted the addressee to
attend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Given the capriciousness of electronic invitations, I am not
sure the pleasure of my company is really being requested or is cared about one
way or the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A part of me feels
that I ought not to care one way or another either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I am not worthy of an actual invitation,
delivered in a timely manner (back in the 20<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> century we sent out
invitations a full month in advance plus mail time which mean those across the
country were mailed a week earlier than those that were local), maybe said
couple is not worth the cost of a gift and postage to mail it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it is a family member I have chosen my
fallback position of family photographs—the groom’s grandparents when they were
younger than him, framed—which I will take to the post office and mail, thus
expending more energy than the bride and groom did. Let us hope that they take more care with their actual marriage than they have the organization of their wedding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was raised in a house that had two volumes of etiquette
(which were actually referred to) that my mother managed to distill into a
sentence:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good manners means doing the
nicest possible thing in the nicest possible way. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This notion seems to have fallen out of
fashion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
</div>
Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-78864978146145065552013-06-29T19:25:00.000-07:002013-06-29T19:25:57.590-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBtWQNcGCpodMTPkhY6Rsx0Uf-rC6LIBgvGJ2toHpUmU3xQPezceVIENzpKr5iJ9eXyhTfzg68fOv3kEyC_8SNCmBSz0O-yklM4Nlxhmi6c4RWnBD-G7oMURkmhxB0zwKmOH6G0yoSSoe/s1600/Photo1030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBtWQNcGCpodMTPkhY6Rsx0Uf-rC6LIBgvGJ2toHpUmU3xQPezceVIENzpKr5iJ9eXyhTfzg68fOv3kEyC_8SNCmBSz0O-yklM4Nlxhmi6c4RWnBD-G7oMURkmhxB0zwKmOH6G0yoSSoe/s400/Photo1030.jpg" width="400" /></a><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Grandma Frieze's Pineapple Cookies</span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My granddaughters are to coming to visit on Monday so I’m
making paternal grandmother’s pineapple cookies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Going to visit Grandma Frieze meant pineapple
cookies in the cookie jar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have such
lovely memories of visiting her that I want to create those same sorts of
memories for my own grandchildren.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Frankly, the cookies are pretty popular with the grownups so I’m making
a double batch for the 4<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> of July week as family and friends gather
to celebrate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandma got the recipe out
of a women’s magazine in the 1950s or ‘60s and the original is taped inside the
front cover of her old <em>Joy of Cooking</em> which I inherited since my mother had
given it to her in the ‘40s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve posted
about these cookies before, but they are so delicious and perfect for these hot
days that I thought I’d do it again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Temp. 375<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Time:
12 min<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yield: About 3 doz.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2 C. sifted enriched all-purpose flour<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>1 egg<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 tsp. baking powder<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>½
tsp. vanilla extract<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 tsp. baking soda<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>½
C. drained canned crushed pineapple<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 tsp. salt<span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span>1
C. granulated sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">½ C. shortening <span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span>1
T. granulated sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Heat oven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sift
together first 4 ingredients.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mix
shortening and next 3 ingredients until creamy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mix in the pineapple, then flour mixture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Drop by teaspoonfuls 2 inches apart onto an
ungreased cookies sheet (I use no stick spray just the same).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sprinkle cookies with sugar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bake until golden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">These cookies are moist and keep well in a tightly closed
container, although if your family knows where they are they won’t last long!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-41583311888053272292013-06-28T19:41:00.000-07:002013-06-28T19:41:24.296-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_vKBcZyVqaNNL2t20GiKkOBohQiae0QfNHM786skjEwYVC84YB1LWvnEpaUcKgehFovbAqm06JDniCS3kuiMujWQ6qz__voHesVWcfWRl_Sc1Rt2TUlTEbRM39zQik8NDqkHWpQQPHgd/s1600/Photo1011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_vKBcZyVqaNNL2t20GiKkOBohQiae0QfNHM786skjEwYVC84YB1LWvnEpaUcKgehFovbAqm06JDniCS3kuiMujWQ6qz__voHesVWcfWRl_Sc1Rt2TUlTEbRM39zQik8NDqkHWpQQPHgd/s400/Photo1011.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Evoking the Past</strong></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When my aunt became unable to live in the house that had
been my grandparents’ beach house in Seaview, Washington and moved to Vancouver
I was promised her half of my grandmother’s china.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 1968 my mother and her sister had divided
Grandma’s rather large set of hand painted china.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
would be another two plus years before I actually got the boxes containing my
aunt’s half, but in the meantime I searched for a china cabinet for our little
Victorian cottage in Ilwaco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About a
year ago I found the china cabinet I wanted, but didn’t buy it right away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Buy it,” my mother told me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“And do what with it,” I asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I haven’t got the china and I don’t know
when I will.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cousins were left with
a house full of stuff to dispose of giving me the china was not high priority.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finding a place for my aunt to live, burying
her daughter (actually, I’m not sure that has happened yet) and selling the
house were understandably higher on the list.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When my cousin finally dropped off the boxes at our house, I
tucked them in a bedroom closet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With my
husband living and working in Arizona, buying and transporting the china
cabinet to our house seemed overwhelming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then life intervened in the way of family expenses and buying the
cabinet when down on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i> list of
things to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the meantime my mother
kept nagging me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Life always follows an interesting path and it so happened
that my lifelong best friend decided to sell her dining set and was looking for
“new” pieces when I went to visit her in Mt. Angel, Oregon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent a weekend scouting out antique
stores, malls and barns looking for just what she wanted, only stopping for a
wonderful tea in Lebanon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the end of
the weekend we had seen pieces that came close, but weren’t making her heart
sing and it’s no good to spend money on something you are “settling” for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I returned home from Oregon it was nearly the end of
school and once it was out I packed up my daughter and headed to Ilwaco where I
plan to spend the bulk of the summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was busy with projects involving porch furniture painting and flower planting
when my friend called me and asked if I would go to the store where we’d found
“my” china cabinet a year and a half before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There had been two likely candidates when we’d poked around the Bay
Trader in Long Beach and would I take a picture of the one I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t</i> want and send it to her?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What are best friends for?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course I would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finished my painting projects on the two
best painting days and when the rain returned I scooted off to Bay Trader where
I took the requested picture and sent it off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cell coverage is spotty on the Long Beach Peninsula, at
least for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to stand out in the
store parking lot toward the road to talk to my friend, but I understood when
she told me that the cabinet I’d photographed was exactly what she wanted so I
had her call Skip Wilson, the owner operator carpenter, of the Bay Trader and
negotiate a deal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured as long as I
was there I’d pull the trigger on the cabinet <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Skip was fair to
both of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came down a little on
both cabinets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What really thrilled me
was that he offered to deliver mine to Ilwaco and two days later the daughter
of another friend showed up to help 79 year old Skip get the cabinet into our
living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was over the moon!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I picked this cabinet because it reminds me of the one my
grandmother had in her home in Vancouver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I haven’t seen that cabinet since 1968 and I believe that Grandma’s
might have been bigger, but I am happy because it evokes memories of a much
earlier time and even though this particular piece is not a family heirloom,
perhaps it will be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since the set of
china is enough for two sisters, I’ve decided that when I cannot use it any
more it will go to my granddaughters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They will have to work out the china cabinet thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe there’s another one out there that will
make them as happy as this one does me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
</div>
Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-89162904976077411052013-06-17T19:54:00.000-07:002013-06-17T19:54:00.613-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixU38ZtRc6sQRpcgC9ZZdLRqGV2Nlt5_GTUf2z07awuW5hnsqlpo0kSaKnEb6UUVmo8AiG-KJKYXa9Gjsh8P6qv3_7eWOST_U05Ht1osoPyOD2XW8htzlRp1vwCNbUOllp7ojTGje_OpIQ/s1600/Photo929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixU38ZtRc6sQRpcgC9ZZdLRqGV2Nlt5_GTUf2z07awuW5hnsqlpo0kSaKnEb6UUVmo8AiG-KJKYXa9Gjsh8P6qv3_7eWOST_U05Ht1osoPyOD2XW8htzlRp1vwCNbUOllp7ojTGje_OpIQ/s320/Photo929.jpg" width="320" /></a><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Tea with Mrs. B</span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Saturday I spent a divine two hours with my very best friend
at Mrs. B’s Special Teas and Lavender Rose Tea Room in Lebanon, Oregon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been over a year since Nikki and I had
been to tea and it had been even longer since we’d been to a place this lovely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those as geographically challenged as I,
Lebanon is near to Corvallis, home of OSU.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4cd81Wp-KCxJwFbdZEsJogXPSX2Rydso67yXnwbyRufLYeSTkwlN_LkNEPPHep5CvMvRHbbmoOlMgKau6evjxGj1aicnqRmOYrlSIOlI4zcjjlFlLx-zXJOY9kmtTNGxYNg4DFIe4EYh/s1600/Photo931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4cd81Wp-KCxJwFbdZEsJogXPSX2Rydso67yXnwbyRufLYeSTkwlN_LkNEPPHep5CvMvRHbbmoOlMgKau6evjxGj1aicnqRmOYrlSIOlI4zcjjlFlLx-zXJOY9kmtTNGxYNg4DFIe4EYh/s320/Photo931.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It had been a long time since we’d gone to tea and longer
still since we’d been somewhere truly nice. The night before we’d done our
homework by reading about Mrs. B’s in two different books Nikki has about tea
rooms in the Pacific Northwest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One book
said to be sure to go early as the gift shop was lovely and we took their
advice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found a birthday card for my friend Ada and
a box of raspberry tea for my daughter Amy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mrs. B is Barbara Brown and is definitely what is “special”
about her teas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This sweet little lady
is the owner, cook, and hostess of Mrs. B’s and a delight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At 73 she does all of the cooking and most of
the serving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she doesn’t do
computers so don’t look for a website. For the Queen or Royal Teas you need to
call ahead for reservations, but Mrs. B seems to do a decent trade in lunches
which don’t require phoning ahead. Mrs. B's is located at 55 West Grant Street in Lebanon, Oregon. You can call for a reservation at 541-259-5100.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7DQH5H3K4EgQOoMKXvaB7EhHYQKlFJa8GZm39rAAvk-f6AFnVurxbdiMYZOAYe_JvzASxMtoiTBNrbiAhOgm7Fa996o3HiJZfYf8Kll-kqMez5Yiuh3IFBYPRaJyDtTlHpKDqnyia0L0/s1600/Photo954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7DQH5H3K4EgQOoMKXvaB7EhHYQKlFJa8GZm39rAAvk-f6AFnVurxbdiMYZOAYe_JvzASxMtoiTBNrbiAhOgm7Fa996o3HiJZfYf8Kll-kqMez5Yiuh3IFBYPRaJyDtTlHpKDqnyia0L0/s320/Photo954.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">High tea requires time so don’t think you’re going to do
that and go to a movie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our plans did
not require a schedule so we were able to enjoy the tea, each other and Mrs. B
over the course of two hours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We had the Victorian Queen’s tea and each course was heavenly
from the fruit with poppy seed dressing to the peach sorbet at the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who knew that egg salad sandwiches garnished
with nasturtiums could be so good?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of
course there were also cucumber, chicken-almond, and savories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Warm lavender scones with clotted cream and
strawberry preserves went well with our pot of lavender-vanilla tea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked the tea so well that I bought some to
drink this summer if I get some guests in Ilwaco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dessert plate included lemon bars,
chocolate cake, and strawberry tarts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There was something we’d seen in their pastry case when we
came in that did not appear on the dessert plate—lavender almond cake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was easily remedied by getting two
slices to take home so we could savor our relaxing day some more back at Nikki’s
house in Mt. Angel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-13157322970551245792013-06-07T15:48:00.001-07:002013-06-07T15:48:39.790-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Remembering Vietnam</span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4zKPMX68u-mysq1Hy-5zyc3JTIlHspA-Z0Tez75-yGEWtVB6rDT12VvvoZJLzOMk2jsuwPAE-BegrhGA1_afbQYfQ68bd0b41GImaN7tyWwmazxwFwPpmX7iWqKi6-FORfmaYO2eJnonG/s1600/MASH01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4zKPMX68u-mysq1Hy-5zyc3JTIlHspA-Z0Tez75-yGEWtVB6rDT12VvvoZJLzOMk2jsuwPAE-BegrhGA1_afbQYfQ68bd0b41GImaN7tyWwmazxwFwPpmX7iWqKi6-FORfmaYO2eJnonG/s320/MASH01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Tuesday evening approximately fifty students gathered in the
Gig Harbor High School library to hear Mary Ann Jacobs speak about her
experience as an Army nurse in the Vietnam War.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>he students were a mixture of Peninsula High School and GHHS students
and the evening was the culmination of the juniors reading Tim O’Brien’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Things They Carried</i> in English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> This was the 20th year that the forum had been organized by Dr. Doug Perry, English Teacher at GHHS. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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Jacobson was “in country” during 1970-71, fresh out of
nursing school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nursing for an Evac.
Hospital was different than nursing in the civilian world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of the nature of their work, nurses
were allowed to do more procedures, request tests and diagnose patients than
their state-side counterparts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Twelve
hour days, six days a week, sometimes while being mortared, forever changed
Jacobson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It was the best year of my
life and the worst year of my life,” she told the students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How had it changed her?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I came from a military family, growing up on
Air Force bases all over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had always
thought I’d go into the military, but my experience has made me anti-war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suggest that Americans think long and hard
before getting into a conflict like Vietnam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t know why we were there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Syria scares me now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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</div>
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Jacobs told the audience that between 5 and 10,000 women
served in Vietnam and that 92-98% were nurses, the others being support personnel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reason for the estimate as to numbers is
that the military did not keep good track of those numbers as even though these
women were in the line of fire, officially the United States did not have women
in combat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Therefore at that time nurses
were not allowed to qualify with weapons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“We had NVA patients sometimes and VC would attempt to come in to assassinate
them to prevent their giving away secrets of the North Vietnamese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had no way to protect our patients except
throw something at intruders.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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</div>
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One statistic that surprised me was when Jacobs told that
99% of casualties survived if they made it to a hospital and the military set
up medical facilities to be no more than 30 minutes away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the highest survival rate of any war
and stood until one hospital in the Iraq war matched it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That hospital was run by a nurse commander
who had been in Vietnam<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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</div>
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In talking about the war related deaths, Jacob mentioned
that the names on the Wall in Washington D.C. are artificially low because those
that died stateside from war related injuries were not counted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ten nurses, eight of them women, were killed
in Vietnam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When talking about the
statue that’s been erected in remembrance of those who served as nurses, Jacobs
says that she hopes that eventually both it and the statue commissioned by Ross
Perot will be taken down and let the Wall stand just as it was envisioned. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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</div>
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After discharge she worked at Tacoma General which she found
boring because she wasn’t given the level of responsibility that she’d had in
Vietnam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually she went to work at
Madigan Hospital at Ft. Lewis where she felt valued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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</div>
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Jacobson went back to school and obtained a PhD in medical
anthropology, doing her dissertation on PTSD in American Vietnam nurses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is information you won’t read about in
history books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About what we went
through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Initially the VA didn’t
recognize PTSD in nurses and still does not recognize the effects of Agent Orange
in women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nurses handled patients who
had come into contact with Agent Orange.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes hospital compounds were sprayed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because dioxin, the main poison in Agent
Orange, is stored in body fat women are more likely to carry it for a longer
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The five diseases and mutations
that can be traced to Agent Orange have lasted twelve generation in lab mice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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</div>
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Jacobs had nothing nice to say about the television show “China
Beach.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said that gave a poor
portrayal of what the lives of nurses and the war were like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you want to get an idea of the atmosphere
of the situation over there, watch ‘Mash’.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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</div>
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Jacobs concluded by telling the students that serving the
country is good and there are many ways to do that don’t involve going to
war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Honor veterans and the rights they
fought to protect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Use your voice and
exercise your right to vote.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Question
the government.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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</div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-55708523996103491712013-06-04T18:28:00.000-07:002013-06-04T18:32:00.770-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_ZmWFnHCZdV-ScO-ldb4bHuUAQ-44c65TjkJ0BxNVWYQ34-Kx5MZj59HhOhwQwT2ttuUOo1wAUCJdKMyR7JjsBrA07-CHuS9-ieZXL-VUOTWDTPz1LOsN1lXV61kUtxiY1nh_fEiSHve/s1600/lawn+mow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_ZmWFnHCZdV-ScO-ldb4bHuUAQ-44c65TjkJ0BxNVWYQ34-Kx5MZj59HhOhwQwT2ttuUOo1wAUCJdKMyR7JjsBrA07-CHuS9-ieZXL-VUOTWDTPz1LOsN1lXV61kUtxiY1nh_fEiSHve/s320/lawn+mow.jpg" width="320" yya="true" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">What Do Lawn Mowing and Going to Church Have in Common?</span></strong></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
While mowing our parking strip at our Gig Harbor house last night I thought about how similar mowing the lawn is to going to church. I never want to do either one. In both cases there’s the whole inertia factor of doing something perceived to be more pleasant—in other words, making the decision to do either activity. You may know intellectually that do it will be good for you, but the thought of reading can be the siren’s call.</div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For both going to church and mowing the lawn, you need appropriate clothes. I am not a fan of the move over the last 40 years toward “come-as-you-are” church. I admit to not being a regular church attendant, but back in the ‘50s and ‘60s when I was you dressed up like you were…well, going to church. I think showing up in jeans and a T-shirt is disrespectful. Lawn mowing is the other end of the spectrum. I normally wear dresses so for lawn mowing I need to look up a pair of pants that it won’t matter may get grass stained.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
People leave you alone during church and mowing the lawn people leave you alone. One because they don’t want to interrupt your prayers and the other because they are afraid you’ll hand off the job. Actually, that is not entirely true. Smokin’ John, our Gig Harbor next door neighbor, will come out and bug me about cutting down the alder that sits on the edge of our property. In both instances you have plenty of time for contemplating the meaning of life. Times may vary depending on the yard. Our Gig Harbor yard is a kind of Unity Church service, but to get John to leave me alone I’m telling him we are Druids, therefore the tree is sacred. The yard in Ilwaco is two lots and more of a Greek Orthodox liturgy. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Whether it is church or lawn mowing, I always feel very righteous when I’m done. The thing with mowing is that you can see the fruits of your labor immediately AND you get to do it outside.</div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8946203290826130992.post-41464432685725940932013-05-28T20:24:00.000-07:002013-05-28T20:24:34.763-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEauiMwisznbRBKF0iGoPluldMD4Ci0klJ3D4smoHf_41ZBxBUcKX-bxiMyquo9gSahUoSFBVbQZ9GfM37bY-FBu-1kl35jHLzrb8Q8cRhsOt7dKjtdNNvuacaTjFh4SHlQlpObK9nz26G/s1600/383418_10151398028325493_647870032_n.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEauiMwisznbRBKF0iGoPluldMD4Ci0klJ3D4smoHf_41ZBxBUcKX-bxiMyquo9gSahUoSFBVbQZ9GfM37bY-FBu-1kl35jHLzrb8Q8cRhsOt7dKjtdNNvuacaTjFh4SHlQlpObK9nz26G/s320/383418_10151398028325493_647870032_n.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Remembering What We’re Honoring<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I believe that fiddling around with traditional holidays in
order to make three day weekends was a mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This has led to a diminishment of the individual holidays; confusion
over what it is that is being honored, and co-opting by businesses for their
own selfish gains.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Take the holiday, Memorial Day, just passed as a case in
point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Originally begun by slaves as a
day to honor Union soldiers who were fighting for the preservation of the Union
and abolition, it has evolved over the century plus since then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fallen from the United States’ subsequent
wars have been honored on Memorial Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In many communities the day is celebrated as Decoration Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On Decoration Day friends and family decorate
the graves of their ancestors and loved ones who have passed on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through all of these traditions there is one
common factor—those being honored are dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Memorial Day is
becoming a Springtime Veterans’ Day as people us social media to thank the
veterans in their lives, living and dead, for their service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That cousin who served in Vietnam, but is
still living ought to receive our thanks any day of the year, but his or her special
day is on Nov. 11<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>, one of the few holidays that hasn’t begun a
yearly migration around the month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When holidays were celebrated on a particular day,
regardless of where it fell during the week, it seemed that the day held more
meaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the 1950s the meaning of
the holiday was taught in school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today
law dictates that schools have assemblies for Veterans’ Day and MLK Day, but
the others are more like—well, meh. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George Washington and Abraham Lincoln,
arguably our two most important presidents, don’t have their own days anymore,
having been mushed together into Presidents Day and “celebrated” on a Monday
for your long weekend and shopping pleasure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I was a child, on the rare occasion that it fell on a
Friday or Monday families often took the opportunity to take a trip over the
long weekend, but most years the day fell during the week or on a weekend day
without extending the weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
case of Memorial Day ceremonies were held at cemeteries and flags placed on the
graves of those who died fighting for the country’s freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over time flowers and flags were left for all
veterans and for extended family members.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One thing that was never intended by those slaves during the Civil War
was for Memorial Day to be about sales at car or mattress dealerships. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This moving things around has not only diminished the
importance of the day, it has confused many folks about exactly what is to be honoredI
am sure that if we returned to the traditional dates for National Holidays
retailers and the tourist industry would put up a fuss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I email retailers who send me sales notices
for either Veterans’ or Memorial Day and have even gotten a positive response
from Amazon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if we planned our
three day weekends around some destination that tied into the holiday and made
a conscious effort not to buy, buy, buy as a way of honoring our national
heroes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How awesome would that be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stephanie Friezehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04317117338063884811noreply@blogger.com2