Friday Jottings-Rememberies

Is it the fall season or getting older that bids us look back and consider our past? It's been several years since I wrote the column below. The jar has gotten a little dusty. Life has gone on, I'm older and wiser. I hope. I keep busy with housework, church, writing guilds. Today I did something I used to do often, though it is not mentioned in the column. My mother had the greenest of green thumbs, and I inherited some of that skill. I once kept many houseplants, but let them go. I do like to keep an aloe plant or two around for its medicinal value. A dear friend gave me one a couple of years ago and it multiplied, I divided it into three pots and they became potbound also. I knew they must be divided again and now - eight? - eeek! If they survive I shall gift some of them. I now again have a row of plants in my front window. I've also been sewing a little again. What else will I dredge from the past, I wonder.

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Rememberies

A clear glass pumpkin-shaped jar sits on my desk, doubtless meant to hold cookies or some such. But I have crammed into it various mementoes that mark significant moments in my life.

Visible on one side of the jar is an old address label with my mother's name and last apartment address. More than thirty years after her death the poignant ache of loss lingers in my heart. I'm reminded of the hardships she endured, raising eight children in deep poverty, and am very doubtful that I could have done as well as she.

Peeking through the other side, my grandson's name tag from the family reunion Holston Valley Medical Center provided for babies who spent the first few days or weeks of their lives in the NeoNatal Intensive Care Unit. I don't like to remember my fear at first sight of his tiny, mottled body after long, anxious moments waiting for the delivering doctor to bring him into view. Or his Lilliputian form as his Mom held him for brief moments, IV tubes in a matchstick arm, feeding tube in his button nose. Now a strapping father of two himself, he bears little resemblance to that preemie in the NICU incubator.

In the jar is a round piece of molded plastic, which covered an indicator lamp on the old cordboard where I began work as a telephone operator over thirty (edit: now, 45 years) years ago. The job that gave me not only independence, but growth and the realization that I was a person in my own right, not just wife, mother, caretaker of an aged parent.

A parking permit from the local community college symbolizes my long-delayed college degree, not fully earned until after retirement. An Allen wrench. I used it to assemble a large modular desk for my computer, ownership of which began another major turn for my life. A red and gold enameled keyring fob with a menorah and the word "Shalom" from my first and only trip outside of the US, to Israel.

A name tag from the Citizen's Police Academy class I took, seeking realism for my writing. Still another tag identifies me as facilitator for a home Bible Study. And finally one ringed with ivy leaves from a ten day writers retreat in North Carolina.

I found me at that retreat. I'm a writer. One who seeks to trade bits of myself for personal gratification and, occasionally, money, through essays and columns. I now have books as evidence that I'm a writer. Books won't fit into the jar, but the objects it holds show me the path I took to get to the place I am now. And they provide me with inspiration for further journeys on that path.

Just What I Needed

I wrote the original column below these remarks long ago, on an anniversary of my father's passing. It does still seem as though after we've slogged along life's path until we feel we can't go any farther, God gives us a brief period of refreshment. Such happened to me again this year, as it often has over the years. I miss being able to see my great grandsons often as I did when they were babies/toddlers. They, and their parents, lived with or near me for a few years. Now they live in another state. I do visit them when I can and glad I'm able to do so. But this year they came to visit me for two weeks! In what has turned out to be a busy year for me, it happened to be the two weeks I could devote exclusively to them. It was so wonderful to be able to hug and kiss them as often as I wished for two weeks. They are affectionate little boys, well, not so little anymore, but not yet of the age to brush off hugs from loving grannies, aunts, etc.

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Often we humans groan that things in our life have gone wrong. But sometimes we’re blessed with an experience that was just what we needed, exactly when we needed it.

 One particular instance was not a good time in my life. I lived in Tennessee, and my father in Georgia was dying of lung cancer. My husband and I went to spend a week with Dad and my stepmother. We tried to keep from wallowing in sadness, but it was as rough for my husband as for me. He loved my Dad and was in the midst of one of his periodic bouts of depression.

 Before we left for Georgia I had made reservations for us to spend a  couple of days on our way home at a dude ranch near Tellico Plains, TN. We began to wonder if we would ever reach the place after our car labored up several steep, steamy miles. To spare the engine we turned off the car's air conditioning.

We finally arrived at the ranch, set among woods and meadows. The accommodations were comfortable, though rustic. After our hot, sweaty drive up the mountain, stepping into our room’s tiny shower stall was sheer bliss.

The couple who owned the place did most of the work, including preparing delicious food for their guests. Rocking on the front porch before dinner was relaxing and we slept soundly that night despite a summer thunderstorm, which knocked out the ranch’s power. We trooped to the dining room for breakfast and a generator provided electricity for cooking, but not enough for our hosts to prepare all dishes at the same time. With plenty of coffee no one minded and we guests got acquainted with each other.

Later that day I joined our hostess and several guests for a horseback ride. I rode a gentle mare but my legs are short and the mare somewhat rotund. I felt sure I would slide off her back on the slightest downslope. As I hung on to the reins and tried to keep feet in stirrups, the cares and sorrows of daily life felt far away.

Since then when I’m tempted to grumble about something, I think of that respite from sorrow and look around for the balancing good I’m sure I’ll find.

Friday Jottings-Precious Gift

Sometimes a writing prompt readily brings a subject to mind that you're eager to write about. That was the case with the below column. I wrote about the joy of being closely involved with the birth of a great-grandson, my second. Both are so dear to my heart. Unfortunately divorce happened, and affected them, but they are resilient. Through Mom's remarriage, a stable homelife, a baby sister they love and are protective of, they are thriving, doing well in school. I've just returned from a week's visit with them, so the precious gift column seemed appropriate for this week, though a day late!

Precious Gift

The writing prompt said write about what happened in your life a year ago. Easy. I became a great grandmother for the second time. A chubby boy child came into this tired old world. Before that July day I’d only seen his image on bell-shaped ultra sound screen and pictures. Still incredible to this hopelessly older generation woman, the images showed clearly that he was a boy. His tiny heart beat strong and regular on the monitors. We, his Mommy, Daddy, Grandma and I, loved him already. Since he weighed nine pounds, Mommy was very ready for him to make his appearance. Older brother, Tyler, two-years-old, not so much, though at first he didn’t pay much attention to the new baby, Connor.

Though nine pound babies are still, well, babies, they are somewhat easier to hold onto than five-six pounders. I say somewhat because not only bigger, he was and is, a strong one. Anyone holding him needed to stay alert or he would wriggle and escape. In an incredibly short time he learned if he raised his arms straight up, he could slide right down to the floor and crawl away. Let a door be left open on the other side of a room and an adult must sprint to reach it before him. If there were an Olympic baby crawling event, this child would win, hands and feet down!

Tyler had a sunny disposition as a baby and is a mostly happy toddler. Practically within days Connor was giving a wide smile to anyone who entered his field of vision, and still does. He doesn’t like to be thwarted though in his race for freedom and lets everyone within earshot know it. He didn’t really grasp his first birthday party a few days ago, but he scarfed down most of a big slice of the beautiful cake his Mommy baked. Of course, he wore much of it and a quick bath was in order before gifts could be opened. One day, he’ll understand that he was the precious gift for all of us.

sylvia@sylvianickels.com

Ends and Beginnings

I kind of dreaded this day before it got here. Then the week-long winter storm just before it kind of distracted me. But now it's here. The fifth anniversary of the fourth major event in my life that brought a totally new landscape to it. The first was marriage, of course, the second, motherhood and third, becoming a grandmother when my daughter's son was born. Then five years ago the fourth event, when my husband of more than fifty years left me and this world. It was not unexpected. He'd fought the good fight for almost three years, trying to come back from a major stroke. But he regained negligible use of the left side of his body and both mind and body slowly deteriorated. By the end, he sometimes knew me, but hardly anyone else. Watching the slow sinking of this shell of the strong, full-of-life young man I'd married was hard.
Now carrying the everyday responsibilities of life alone was permanent. I knew I was and am a strong woman, and my husband had never hindered me from becoming stronger through the years. But I was still a little surprised at how hard I was hit, and the amount of time needed to regain my equilibrium.
A somewhat unexpected fifth event helped me during the months prior to and after my husband's death. The birth of a precious great grandson. And now there are two, and the goal of being around to watch them grow up, in addition to personal achievement goals, keeps me looking forward to each day. Who knew such joy could come following the end of a big part of one's life.