Check out this 3-volume short story anthology by authors from the One Million Project!
Check out this 3-volume short story anthology by authors from the One Million Project!
I’m of an age now. An age which brings with it the loss of youth in not only the mirror but in my world-view of myself. Mother’s Day is fast approaching, and not only am I a mother, but I still have my mother in my life. I’m very fortunate in many ways.
The past month has been very difficult for me. I’ve had a front-row seat watching my mom’s physical and mental decline, losing a bit more of herself day by day. Over the past few years, her mobility decreased rapidly, but her spirit remained high. Even during her fight against breast cancer, she swore to anyone who would listen that she would fight it. Sure enough, when she awoke after surgery, she stuck out her tongue at us. She’d found a way to make the solemn and frightening event emotionally lighter. In the last month, her memory has been failing, and simple tasks require step-by-step instructions.
My mom was born in the middle of the Great Depression on a July day so hot, my grandfather had to buy two fans for the hospital room to keep his wife and new baby girl comfortable. Mom grew up on a 560-acre farm in a house without running water, electric lights, heat or an indoor bathroom. The family used an outhouse. Kerosene lamps were used for light. They had an icebox, not a refrigerator like we have now, and every few days a new block of ice needed to be purchased to cool their perishable food.
From kindergarten until the fourth grade, Mom attended a one-room schoolhouse. She wrote about her feelings concerning school in a short autobiography published for her family, “I hated school so my mom would take me inside the building, and the teacher would hold me until she knew my mom had gone. I would then go outside and cry. I did the crying for quite awhile.”
As a teenager, Mom detassled corn working in fields with
mile-long rows of corn under the hot summer sun in order to earn money. She was an awesome basketball player, was voted the “Carnival Queen” in high school, and graduated third in her class. She would laugh when she told others of her prestigious class ranking, informing her listeners that she’d graduated in a class of three students!
She never left the state of Iowa until she married my father, a native New Yorker. After their wedding, they moved to New York City. What an adventure for her! She’d never eaten pizza, flown in a plane or seen so many people from so many different cultures. But being my mom, she made friends quickly and my dad’s Irish immigrant family welcomed her.
There are many, many stories about this wonderful lady and her life, but I offer you a sliver, a snapshot to avoid this becoming a novella. I share these small glimpses into Mom’s life with supreme gratitude for her patience and loving care of me over the years. I wouldn’t be the woman I am without my parents.
So, on this Mother’s Day, I return back home again to honor my mother, care for her needs and grab every moment I can to laugh with her and show my love for her just as she always did for me.
Thanks for reading…Kate
This is a fabulous idea! This organization hires homeless women taking them out of the shelters to train them to make jackets that are given to the homeless.
They also provide training for other careers for those who wish to move on once they are established. We need more ideas like this one. Check out the video and consider donating to help this worthwhile program.
Jalopy is kind of an old-fashioned word. I just bought a twenty-one year old Jeep Wrangler. I have fondly dubbed her “My Jeeplopy”. I had a choice to pick out a newer model or a brand-new vehicle, but there was something about buying it out-right that appealed to my penny-pinching side.
I know many women who would look at the tattered and stained seats, dents and missing parts and say, “No way am I going to be caught in THAT piece of crap!” But, I could see the beauty in her. A little cleaning and a few additions would have her looking respectable. The engine looked good, and it started right up.
I felt like a teenager with their first car when I drove to the car wash and washed and waxed the Wrangler. I pictured driving with the top off during the summer with the wind blowing through my dark — wait, a second — my silver tresses as I drive along the Great River Road.
Boxes of new accessories for my baby are delivered almost daily as I give her some tender loving care. No worries, though, I tend to stick to desert camo and black accessories and avoid the pink and teal components. I’ll save the bright colors for my Jeep-themed t-shirts and caps.
I’ve also received feedback from a fan (you know who you are!) that I can never get rid of “Clare’s Jeep”. Trust me, I won’t, at least not for a very long time.
I have a love/hate relationship with my elliptical. It wasn’t even that I’d paid a king’s ransom to purchase one. My sister and her boyfriend carted it about 200 miles in the back of their SUV — FREE!
I was so excited at first… Then I realized I preferred walking outside to being inside on a machine, but I live in the frosty North which translates into “I either workout indoors or I get fatter over the winter.” My dilemma was simple. I’m a wimp and it was too easy to get off the elliptical when I got tired. When I’m walking I can be four miles from home, and I don’t have a choice but walk back.
I’d made great strides in my training over the summer and I didn’t want to regress. I paced back and forth by the dusty gift contemplating whether I could succeed where I was unsuccessful for (Wait for it!) years. Yes, it isn’t a typo. YEARS!!
I’d tried several times over the years but after I exercised on the elliptical ten to fifteen minutes I’d stop stating that it was too hard. Which is a crock of expletive. I was in the Army. I was a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do. True, that was years ago, but I’d done the tough stuff. I would walk for two to three hours in the heat until I was so tired I could barely put one foot in front of the other.
I wasn’t going to let a big, old, gray instrument of torture get the best of me. I armed myself with my water bottle and my secret weapon — a music playlist. I also prepared to go all drill instructor on myself if I tried to wimp out again. My goal was to remain on the thing for thirty minutes. Double my longest time. I hit play on my phone put the earbuds in and preceded to conquer the gray devil.
I listen to many artists and different genres. It’s music that makes me move, helps me to write and relax. Here’s a sample of a few songs I listened to this morning. I’m also happy to say I tamed that gray beast and I exercise for over 60 minutes at a time. And yes, I did have to go all drill instructor on myself that first time. It was ugly…
I like winter. I know, I know, a lot of people hate winter, the sub-zero weather, and snow etc. accompanying the season, but I enjoy many aspects of the season. Wood burning in the fireplace, hot cocoa, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, and frost covered trees are all reasons I love this time of year. Except for one thing–it tends to be the cold and flu season, too.
I’m a nurse who isn’t a stranger to nursing sick individuals back to health. I’m also a big, ol’ whiny baby when I’m not feeling well. I hate wearing hats even on the worst days and last week I headed out the door on a fairly nice day for this time of year without hat or scarf and proceeded to go on a long walk. Five plus miles later, I returned home feeling energized, but by bedtime, I was starting to feel cranky.
Sneezy, stuff;y, scratchy throat and all the other joyful symptoms of a cold descended during the night. I croaked out my good mornings, took a boatload of analgesics and searched for cold medicine. Nope. None to be found. I could have walked to the grocers but I remembered suddenly that I’m a whiny ol’ baby and I was SICK!! Instead, I sent a text to my hubby and put in my order for orange juice, nighttime “coughing, sneezing prevention so you can rest” medicine and something quick for supper.
My man provided. Thank God! Now, three days later and I’m on the road to recovery. I’m ready to go out and shovel the walks without a hat and scarf or snowshoe (if only it would snow a little bit more…) Yeah, I know. I’m crazy, but I guess that’s why I love winter!
Frank and Mili’s Small House Bliss showcases the benefits and beauty of smaller, well-designed homes around the world.
As much as I love my circa 1855 Greek Revival home, I absolutely went gaga over this Norwegian coastal cottage with its uber-minimalist design.
Old St. Nick has one, and so do I. His list deals with who is “Naughty” or “Nice”. Mine is my own form of self-torture that I’ve honed over the years. All of the “should-do’s” and “have-to-definitely-do’s” are on it. Christmas decorating, baking, gift buying, and the dreaded Christmas card conundrum.
I love the whole experience of decorating for Christmas, and I’ve cut back on how much I’ve decorated over the years. At one time, I had ten Christmas trees with different themes in various sizes throughout the interior and exterior of our home. Now I am down to one medium-sized artificial tree and four miniature trees. I used to have a minimum of one tree in each of the main rooms of the house, each bedroom and in the upstairs hall. Now the trees are in the living room and on the front porch.
My Santa collecting days are over, and I’m content to limit its total number to thirty Santas. It’s not the largest Santa collection — I knew a woman who had over 1,000 Santas, but it is enough for my home. I’m not one for a lot of outdoor lighting either (in the whole Clark Griswold of Christmas Vacation movie fame kind of illumination), but prefer a single candle in each window.
When my sons were little, we’d bake cut-out sugar cookies and gingerbread people decorating them with lots of colorful icing and sprinkles. The mess in the kitchen was worth the fun. Afterwards, I’d play some Christmas CD’s, we’d drink hot chocolate with plenty of mini marshmallows floating on top and decorate the largest tree together.
This year I’m almost finished with my Christmas gift list, having a few stocking stuffer items to purchase and a couple hard-to-buy-for people yet on my list.
So, what’s on the agenda now? The dreaded Christmas card list. Should I write a chatty newsletter to the people I know, make my own cards with my scrapbooking expertise or send off to a company for a photo greeting card? Frankly, I did the fail-safe option and bought a couple boxes of old-fashioned Christmas cards. Despite my card choice, the newsletter dilemma is still looming over me.
It is so easy to get caught up in all of the tasks and lists instead of enjoying the finer moments this time of year offers to us–Christmas caroling, holiday parties, Secret Santas, watching the little ones as they sit on Santa’s lap or unwrap their gifts. The wonderful Christmas stories and movies I enjoy year after year. Eggnog! (It gets its own sentence, LOL!) Midnight masses crowded with parishioners, the choir’s voices reverberating through the church, and participating in the sacred traditions with millions of people around the world.
I hope everyone has a wonderful Holiday season. Just try to remember the simple pleasures and try not to worry about the lists.