I'm Back!

Hello, my friends. It's been a while since I've blogged. I hope I haven't lost any followers.

Today I watched a DVD entitled U.S. vs. John Lennon. Thanks to Netflex, I found this video and decided to watch it since I was a teenager at the time of the VietNam War. I enjoyed the video very much. I watched it twice.

I was in high school when I first became aware of the VietNam conflict. I was also a wannabe hippie, beatnik, peacenik. I say wannabe because I never was, only wanted to be. I lived in a small Northwest Kansas town where these things were frowned upon by the people in town and by my parents. I played around with the idea some, but no one took me seriously, and I didn't pursue it. There weren't any concerts, protests or anything like it anywhere near me, so I quietly objected to the war in VietNam. I graduated from high school, got married and started a family. Then my brother joined the Army and went to VietNam. I didn't like the idea, but it wasn't my choice, it was his. I wrote to my brother. I worried about his well being. I was elated when he finally came home safe and sound. Many years later I learned that John had sent me letters which I never received. They contained information about what was happening there and I believe, how he felt about what was happening. I never received those letters. They were probably censored because of content. While he was there, I never publicly said a word about how I felt about the situation. Now, I wish I had.

My husband Al was also in VietNam. He was in the Air Force, not on the ground. When I began to watch this documentary, he left the house. He doesn't like to hear me or anyone else say that we shouldn't have been there. He remembers feeling that he was unappreciated when he came home. I'm sorry that that happened, but I don't believe the people blamed the soldiers for the war. They blamed the government. Al also had a cousin who was crippled for life in VietNam. No one wants to think that Lloyd's injuries were for nothing, but when the Iraq war began, Lloyd was with me on thinking that this, also, was a war which began for the wrong reasons.

Yes, I am against the Iraq war. It is the Taliban that we should be at war with, not the people in these countries. The Taliban is everywhere, even here in the United States. We can't get rid of them by declaring war on other countries. Too many people in the U.S. have labeled anyone from the Middle East as bad people, and this just isn't the case. As if the people there didn't have it bad enough, now they are faced with even worse situations.

Now I suppose there are those who will tell me that I do not support our troops. You're wrong. They are doing what they are ordered to do. Young men are losing their lives while many, many more are coming home with physical and emotional disabilities. Before we went to war, this country should have taken time to try to resolve problems in a reasonable and peaceful manner, working with other countries to stop the Taliban. That is what many of us thought Bush was going to do, but once he had "permission" to do what he felt was right, war was declared. Congress should never have given him so much power. We were too quick to declare war, thus causing many other countries to look at us in a more negative light. We have focused on one country, letting up in Afghanistan so that the Taliban could begin to organize once again there and in other countries.

As John Lennon said, Ghandi and King were for peace, and they were killed. We can add John Lennon to their company. It's sad when those people who believe in peace and love are killed by those who feel they will benefit from destroying others lives and countries.

Tears come to my eyes each time I hear of another young man killed or mangled, physically and emotionally, in the war. Yes, I'm a Peacenik. But I still don't say near enough.

Grandpa and Grandma Hurst

I don’t think I was very old when Grandpa and Grandma moved to town, but I do have memories of when they were on the farm.

On the farm, Grandma had her chickens, and she loved her chickens. She had one that would follow her around, and me, too, but I was afraid of that chicken following me. Grandma would always tell me that that chicken wasn’t going to hurt me, but I was still reluctant about being friends with a chicken.

They had a collie dog. His name was Spook. I don’t remember what happened to the dog, but I remember that he was a beautiful dog.

Grandma had a garden. I can’t remember a lot about the garden, but I do remember how she loved the long line of purple lilac bushes that were in the yard. The garden was just north of the lilac bushes. Even after they left the farm and we lived there, I always connected lilacs with my Grandma. And the wild roses and tiger lilies that grew beside the house in the back yard. They were always Grandma’s flowers to me.

I remember the old crank phone that was in the living room. And the one thing I distinctly remember is watching Grandma when she talked on the phone, not just the crank phone, but later, when she had the phone desk in the hall in Colby. Whenever Grandma would talk on the phone, her face was filled with expression....happiness, disappointment, sadness.... whatever response was appropriate for the conversation. I remember her nodding her head in agreement as she spoke to whomever was on the other end. And she always called the operator Central.



I don’t ever remember Grandma wearing anything but a dress on the farm, and she always had on an apron. She had some beautiful aprons, and she also had beautiful hankies. Any time she went somewhere, she always carried one of her hankies with her. She always dressed up if she left the house to go somewhere. She had lots of pretty necklaces and pins that she wore. She loved Evening in Paris perfume and had cin cin’s sitting on her dresser to freshen her breath.

When the weather would come on the radio, we stopped whatever we were doing as she said “listen, listen” softly to let us know the importance of the weather to her. Later, when she and Grandpa lived in town, we would get in the car and drive over the viaduct and outside of town so that Grandpa could see the weather for himself. They also used to take me for a drive, I guess to get me to go to sleep, but those drives were special to me. I can remember Grandpa driving from Colby to the farm one time, and he would lean forward, put both hands at the top of the steering wheel, then encircle the steering wheel with his arms as he drove. I do that myself sometimes and always think of Grandpa when I do. It bothers Al to no end because he just can’t see how anyone can drive like that.

Grandpa and Grandma had twin beds. I never gave it a second thought about why, although Mom and Dad didn’t have twin beds. It was just normal for them. Now I wonder if it was because Grandma was a great snorer. After Grandpa died, I would sleep in the same room with her and remember going to sleep listening to her snore. Now, I think I snore as well as she did. And as strange as it may seem, the snoring has become a fond memory of mine because it was a part of my grandma. I even find that the few times that Al snores, it is a comfort to me.

Grandpa and Grandma took me with them when they went to Great Aunt Lulu & Uncle Henry’s to play canasta. I didn’t get to play, but Aunt Lute always had cookies for me or something I could play with while they played, or I would sit with them and watch. Grandma taught me how to play canasta. We played many, many games together, and it has become one of my favorite card games. I can remember when she would click her tongue in sequence several times while she was thinking of what to discard. If I took the discard pile, she always had a strong look of disappointment on her face, and an “Oh, no” as I picked it up. If she took the pile, her face would glow. When we played canasta, she used to ask Grandpa if he wanted to play with us, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t play canasta unless he was at Uncle Henry’s, or at least not that I remember. He would watch us or go for a drive.

Grandma depended on Grandpa to take her everywhere. As far as I know, she never learned how to drive and didn’t really want to. Grandpa took us shopping, bingo, to main street to park and watch the people. And many people would stop to talk to us as we sat there. After Grandpa died, Grandma kept the car for quite some time. She always had us drive her to the store or to bingo.

I remember the tree beside the garage in town, and the pampas grass that grew not far from the tree. Grandpa would set his lawn chairs under the tree and we would sit with him or I would go play while he and Grandma sat. Once, when Grandma wasn’t around, he took firecrackers and threw them into the street when cars went past. I thought that was great. I’m sure the people in the cars weren’t as pleased. What fun for a little girl. He would use his cigarette to light the fuses. I always remember Grandpa with a cigarette in his hand.

I learned to play Chinese Checkers at Grandpa and Grandma’s. They kept the Chinese Checker board in the coat closet. And this is a memory that my daughter Julie has, too. Just thinking about the many times that I played Chinese Checkers makes me think I need to get that game for my grandchildren. It was great fun to jump marbles.

Grandma would turn on her record player and we would listen and sing together. That’s where I learned It Is No Secret and The Old Rugged Cross. I think It Is No Secret was Grandma’s favorite, it was mine, but she loved them both. Then I can remember Grandma dancing. She had this neat bounce when she was doing the waltz and I loved to see her dance.

We also used to spell together. Grandma was quite proud of her spelling ability, and I always wanted to be able to spell as well as she did. We practiced a lot.

Grandma loved to do dishes. We used to clean her buffet that sat in the dining room and wash every dish that was in it. She would always caution me to be very careful. She also had what I call the blue lady figurine. It is mine now, and each time that I look at it, as worn as it is, it is a part of my Grandma that I see. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

Grandma used to fry steak. And it was the best steak in the world. Grandpa, Grandma and I would sit at the kitchen table and have our fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy and whatever else went with the meal. And we always had bread with our meal.

I remember going to the garage with Grandpa. I don’t know what we went to the garage for unless he was looking for something, but I remember being there with him. And getting the car out of the garage so that Grandma didn’t have to get in until she had more room.

I also would help Grandma with her laundry. Washing the clothes and putting them through the wringer, then taking them outside to hang. I don’t know that I was much help to her, but I thought I was. I’m not sure just when she got an automatic washing machine and a dryer, but I know she did. She still liked to hang her clothes outside.

Then when Grandpa died, I was heartbroken. I remember staying at Grandma Faber’s and crying the day that he died. I didn’t want my Grandpa to go.

After Grandpa died, Grandma used to take a table knife and put it in the frame of the front door after she locked it as an extra precaution against someone trying to get in. I found myself doing that when I lived in Wichita. It was just an extra sense of security.

I lived in Goodland when Julie was born, but we went to Colby to the hospital. Before I went to the hospital, I sat at Grandma’s and waited. And guess what we did while I waited? We played canasta. After Julie was born, Grandma loved her so much, and Julie loved Grandma in return.

Grandma was a worrier. I think she enjoyed the little girls more than the boys because she didn’t worry so much about what we would get in to. But she loved us all, and so did Grandpa. And I loved them.

Christmas Tree Memories

(I wrote this 8 years ago and found it on my old computer. Thought it was worth sharing.)


Three little girls with sparkling blue eyes, and smiles spread wide across their faces, their reddish-blonde hair glistening in the light of the freshly decorated Christmas tree. They each don new nightgowns, two dark blue with teddy bear prints, and the other a light blue with clouds floating throughout the pattern. Beautiful red garland is woven not so neatly around the tree. Decorations on the tree cluster in certain areas, leaving other areas not quite filled. The twinkle lights sparkle, and the illuminated star sitting at the top of the tree reminds us of what Christmas is really all about. To the left of the tree, sitting on the counter, is a jolly ol’ Santa Claus watching over the little girls.

Three, four and six; that’s the age of the little angels standing in front of the tree. At least they look like angels for the moment. But I can still detect a gleam of orneriness shining from their eyes. At least they aren’t fighting for the moment.

I love my three granddaughters, and seeing their picture, I can’t help but reflect back to when I was a child. Our Christmas trees were much like this one. The kids always played a big part in decorating the tree each year. At my grandmother’s house, we would string cranberries and popcorn, carefully putting several pieces of popcorn on the string, then a cranberry. Cranberries cost more than popcorn. We also made paper chains. Sometimes we used green, white and red paper, sometimes we colored our own paper, but the time we shared together while making the decorations became a memory I cherish.

At home, my brother, sister and I also decorated the tree together with the help of Mom and Dad. And the last two things that went into the decorating were the star or angel that sit at the top....my dad usually put this piece on...and the wooden manger scene that sat below the tree with one light shining from the back to illuminate the baby Jesus in the cradle. I remember well my mother’s quest to find the perfect tree when we were older. One year, she found what looked like the perfect tree, but when we went to put it up, it was top heavy. We had to tie a rope from a nail on the wall to hold it up. We still laugh about the trees Mom so carefully chose each year.

My own children helped to decorate our tree. I incorporated some of the old ideas into the decorations. Sometimes we made chains of paper and popcorn. Sometimes we made our own wooden ornaments to hang around the tree. But we always did it together and placed the angel or star at the top, then placed the wooden manger scene that I bought the first year I was married at the bottom, carefully putting the light behind it.

I still use the old decorations, and I still have children to help me decorate. I derive great joy from telling my grandchildren how we made the decorations. And even more joy comes from getting out the paper so that they can make decorations of their own. It is all an important part of Christmas.

I see many beautiful trees each Christmas season, but none of them will ever meet the beauty of my Christmas trees. There’s something missing in the other trees. Love, togetherness, companionship and last, but certainly not least, the memories.

Christmas is Coming!

(Written 9 years ago.)

Of all the gifts I have received in my 51 years of celebrating Christmas, one gift always comes to mind when I try to think of my favorite. At the time the gift was given, it didn’t seem like much, but now it is the gift my mind constantly returns to. I’m not even sure it was my gift. It could have been my brother John’s or my sister Jackie’s, or it could have been a gift given to all of us. The gift given to all is what I choose to remember.
The gift was a Monopoly game. I remember staying up into the wee hours of the morning playing with Jackie and John. I’m sure we fought, laughed, screamed and probably accused each other of cheating that evening. But it was the evening of the first of many Monopoly games we would play.
Now that I look back, I realize that it wasn’t the game at all that was the gift. It was the fact that we were together, that we shared good times with each other.

More Faith

From comments on Faith blog:

Sounds to me as if Grandma Smarty dodged the question. Were you questioning the concept of God when you asked the question? Or were you expressing a genuine curiosity about something that mystified you? Would an answer such as "God is eternal. God has always been and will always be" have come closer to answering the question for you then or now?

I think I was questioning the concept of God, the possibility or impossibility of God, the science of religion and the Mystery. I don't remember why I asked the question, but I imagine that I was doubting the existence of a god. Grandma's answer was quite sufficient at the time because of the doubt I was probably feeling. The answer that God is eternal and has always been and will always be just wouldn't have satisfied the question of whether God is real or not. In this world, everything comes from somewhere, so where did God come from? Just where is the beginning, and how did it start? Even science can't answer this question for me with the Big Bang Theory because each element involved in the Big Bang Theory had to come from somewhere. I believe that Grandma was right. There are some things you just have to have faith in. Without that faith, you can't possibly believe.

What do all of you readers think?

Faith

Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, I asked Grandma Smarty, "If God created the world, where did God come from?"
Her reply to me was, "Everyone is a doubting Thomas at times. You just have to have faith."

This Old House

Mary at http://travelinghammer.blogspot.com/ took a picture of my grandparents old house on the farm. I loved reading what she had to say, but I also had some memories of my own.

Grandma had a garden out behind the windmill. How much water came from the hose depended on just how much wind was blowing to pump the water to the surface. She trenched along the side of the plants and let the water run from one end to the other. I don't remember sprinklers in the garden, but maybe she used them. Dinah and I used to unhook the handle and lift it so that the windmill would run. When the water finally come to the surface, it was so cold and sweet that there was nothing better in the world to drink. Now we have so many additives to the water that it doesn't taste near as good as that fresh water from the windmill.

There was a cistern at the front of the house. When the wind blew, Grandma would run the hose to a pipe in the cistern so that it would fill with water. If the cistern wasn't kept full, there was always the chance that we wouldn't have wind and the water might become a bit scarce. I don't remember that ever happening.

I also thought about the water spilling from the top of the windmill, and we kids would play under it as kids today play in a sprinkler. I'm not sure, but I think that this happened when the wind was blowing hard enough that the hose couldn't handle the volume, so it spilled out at the top of the windmill. Is that right, Dinah?

In the little building beside the windmill, there was an old sink pump that had originally belonged in the house. We could laboriously pump water into the sink and pretend we lived in the "old days". There was also a wood burning stove in the building, and occasionally, we were allowed to build a fire. We had so much fun at this old house. I treasure the memories.