Laughter

The older I get the more I find myself laughing at the absurdities of life. I have to laugh. If I took everything that comes my way seriously, I would be in sad shape. So I laugh.

Part of my job is using a blow dryer to dry the fur of the dogs I bathe. Those of you who have visited me at work know that there is a grooming table set up in the back room next to the bathtub. I find that kneeling next to the table is easier on my back than bending over to dry underbellies and legs, especially smaller dogs like Toy Poodles and Dachshunds. Getting down on my knees is not the problem. The getting back up can be interesting. The picture I get of myself hauling this old, overweight body back up to my feet is a silly picture. Now I could bemoan the fact that limbs do not work as well as they did 20 years ago. I could. Or I could rant about the fact that my figure has become pretty much barrel shaped as opposed to hourglass shaped. Could do that, too. But I laugh at myself. Silly old woman, thinking that a crane would come in really handy to get me upright again. That picture makes me laugh.

As I have looked through my collection of family photos, I have realized that humor has been a big part of my life. I found this picture of my Dad. He had taken his family on a vacation to the Black Hills. At one of the tourist trap places we stopped, he found this make-believe saloon. Now Dad wasn't a drinker. If he had any tendencies in that direction, Mother quickly squelched them. I have suspected over the years that he may have had a taste of something alcoholic when he went deer hunting and stayed with one of his brothers up north. Especially since my cousin Curt was famous for his homemade wine, and those visiting were offered "just a taste." Could never prove it, but the suspicion was there. That aside, I never saw my Dad drink anything stronger than coffee. So when he found this saloon, he couldn't resist the temptation to lean against the door, pretending to have had a few too many.

This picture has been in my parents photo collection for over 50 years. It is a rather unflattering photo of Mom's sister, Margaret. It has moved with my family from St. Paul, where it was taken, to Willmar, on to Funkley, Blackduck and finally to Kelliher, where I acquired it in a box of photos that Dad gave me. I once asked Dad about it, and here is what he told me.

It seems that Dad and my Mom's sisters loved to tease and joke with each other. Margaret, being Margaret, could not resist the temptation to tease Dad about something long since forgotten. And Dad, being Dad, could not let her teasing go by without adding a smart remark of his own. Then Margaret chose this method of showing what she thought of Dad's remark, and that is when Dad took her picture. And this is why we have a family heirloom photo of Aunt Margaret's Opinion. Dad added that he had kept the photo all of these years because it reminded him of the fun they had with their teasing and joking

There was never anything mean about their teasing and joking, as the second photo shows. This one was taken outside the nursing home in Blackduck where Mom was living at the time, and Margaret and Melfred had come for a visit. It is probably my favorite photo of Dad and Margaret.

I love this photo of my sister. This was taken in the first apartment my family lived in when we first moved to Willmar. Sunday mornings our family always attended church. This particular Sunday, Libby was full of spots from chicken pox. So Mother left Dad in charge of her while she took me to church.

Now those of you who remember my Dad know that this was a situation that was ripe for him to do something.....didn't know what.....just something. And this photo is the result of the "something" he came up with. Nobody knew what he had been up to, entertaining my sister that Sunday morning, until the pictures came back from the developer. The moral of the story, according to my Mother, was "Never leave Dad alone with time on his hands. He surely will find some mischief to get into."

It was long my Dad's habit to look for wildflowers when he was out and about, and to pick a few for my mother. She always acted like Dad was a hero for bringing her flowers. I believe he may have been pushing his luck on this one, though.

And I can't laugh at others in my family without laughing at myself. While going through my boxes of photos looking for one that Jill asked me for, I found these. If I ever begin to have a swelled head over anything, these old school photos would bring me right back down to earth in a heartbeat. When I receive school photos of my grandchildren, they are usually beautiful. The photographer obviously takes the time to pose each child, using backgrounds and props to enhance each photo. We, on the other hand, were stood against a blank screen or wall, sort of like a mug shot without the ruler to tell how tall a person was and the card with numbers held across the chest. The photo was snapped, the child whisked away and the next one in line took his or her place for their mug shot. I'm guessing that my parents weren't happy that they had to fork over cash for these.

The last photo of me was taken in 1954, on the steps of the old Lincoln Elementary School in Willmar. It was used in a Father's Day gift project for Brownie Scouts. I love the fashion statement. Way back then, when dinosaurs roamed the earth at will, girls weren't allowed to wear jeans or slacks to school. The rule was skirts or dresses only. So our mothers, ever practical, made us wear pants under our dresses to keep our legs warm - in this case, homemade corduroy pants. I guess it was OK, though. As a little girl, my knees were forever skinned up from play, and the pants covered the ever present scabs.

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I am glad that my children have inherited the humor gene. I would hate to think that they would go through life without laughter. Every now and then one of them will call, telling me about the latest antics of their kids, or something funny that happened. When Jeri was in Middle School, she would call me nearly every day and tell me the joke of the day. My favorite was "Little Bunny Foo Foo," but that is a story for another time. Duane has asked me to email him mornings on my days off, letting him know that I am alive and well. I love his replies, as he usually says something silly to make me laugh. That's a great way to start a day. David calls regularly and nearly always has something to tell me about what his crew of kids has been up to. At those times, I have been known to outright giggle. And when I talk with Jill, she nearly always has something to tell me about what Zach has said or done that brings a smile to my face, if not a good old belly laugh. I love it.

I have dealt with people over the years who have lost, if they ever had it, the capacity for laughter. They tend to be grumpy old men or women, whose faces would surely crack if they ever smiled. How these people make it through this crazy, silly life, is beyond me. I realize that there are situations that need to be taken seriously, and that is as it should be. But the rest of the time, when life throws something at a person where they can either laugh or cry, I believe I will choose laughter. It really is the best medicine of all.

Happy 1st Birthday, Jacob

Last Sunday our family celebrated another milestone. Our Jacob is one year old.

How fast this past year has flown by. Seems like just the day before yesterday that I was holding this little baby in my arms, and now he is a whole year older. He spends his time walking, discovering new things, smiling a lot and getting into mischief, just as he is supposed to do. The mischief part is his job. He does that for me. I love it when his father calls me and tells me something new that Jacob has gotten into. Takes me back to hauling his father out of many things that he wasn't supposed to get into, either.

Again the family gathered and it was such a nice day. David made lasagna for all (pretty good, too), and we ate and enjoyed each other's company. Some I hadn't seen for quite some time, and it was good to visit and get caught up on the news.

Boston and Maddie, who are taking dance classes now, wanted to show off their new found talents. So some grandparents went to their room for a short recital. How fun to watch them leap and twirl. The exuberance of children their ages is wonderful. I hope they never lose that zest for life.

We went to the family room for the birthday present opening. Jacob did a fine job of ripping wrapping paper and trying out new toys. He had some help from his sisters, and it looked like he was enjoying every minute of it. I think he really likes this birthday present thing. Probably will want to do it again next year.

There was birthday cake waiting in the kitchen, and it was such fun to watch Jacob's reaction. He was sitting in his highchair when his mother approached him with his own cake with one candle on the top. Jacob's face lit up like someone had turned on the switch to a powerful light. His eyes fairly sparkled. As he hasn't quite got the blowing out the candle thing down just yet, the girls helped him with that part, and then he dug into his cake. Both hands. Smearing frosting. Having a grand time.

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The rest of us enjoyed cake, eaten with forks (why we adults aren't allowed to have as much fun with cake as Jacob did, I just don't know), ice cream and coffee. We talked of many things and the conversation was good.

As I sat at the table, I thought of how lucky Jacob is to have three grandmothers, one grandfather and one great-grandmother, all of whom love him so very much. I also thought of his two grandpas who weren't here to enjoy the party. But perhaps they were. I can't imagine that either would want to miss it. I like to believe that both were watching from Heaven and enjoying the party as much as the rest of us.

Happy Birthday, Jacob.

Love, Grandma

Inez

This Sunday past I had the privilege of spending time with a woman who has been an important part of my life for over 50 years. She is the Grandmother of my children, and Great-grandma to my grandchildren.

I first met Inez when my family moved to the farm when I was nine years old. Our house had once been part of the Eddy farm, and Dad had purchased it from an Eddy relative who had lived there. I became friends with her daughter Joan, and spent time playing at her house as a child. She always, over the course of those 50 odd years, made me feel welcome.

I remember from those years on the farm, what a hard working woman she was - and still is. She always was busy, raising her five children, keeping a neat and clean house, feeding the men in her life who worked the land, often during spring planting time and fall harvest, making their meals and carrying them out to the fields so they didn't have to take the time to come to the house to eat.

She kept a huge vegetable garden that was located between our house and hers, and I often, during the summer, would see her out hoeing or pulling weeds. In the fall, she canned the vegetables, made jams and jellies and pickles to feed her family over the long Minnesota winters.

Her youngest daughter was born while the family still lived on the farm. I remember walking in the kitchen door of her house just days before the birth of Jeanine, to see to my amazement, Inez up on a step ladder, washing the kitchen ceiling. Preceding the births of my children, all I wanted to do was lay in bed like a lump, and this picture of her on that ladder so close to her time to deliver, has remained with me ever since.

When I married her oldest son in 1964, she became like a mother to me. There was never a time that I couldn't stop by her house and feel welcome. She has always been interested in what her grandchildren are doing, and always kept a jar of her wonderful chocolate chip cookies ready for visits from them. She would laugh when the kids would go, even as toddlers, right to the cupboard where she kept her cookie jar and say, "Cookie, Grandma."

Even when her son and I parted ways, she remained an important part of my life. Whenever I see her, even after all of these years, I am always greeted with a hug. When Mike and I were living in Arizona for a short time, we went to see her at an RV park where she and Henry, after he retired, would spend their winters. After Henry died, she and her friend Sylvia would make the trip there to spend the winters away from the snow and cold. On that occasion, I was greeted with the same love and hugs that I have enjoyed all these years. She treated Mike with the same affection, and he thought the world of her.

She started taking Senior bus trips all over the country. Whenever I would see her at a family gathering, she would tell me about her latest trip. It just tickled me to see her doing something that brought her so much enjoyment, especially after working so hard all of her life.

The kids tell me that she still lives alone in her house in Willmar...the one where she and Henry moved at his retirement from the farm. She keeps her own house, mows her own lawn, and takes care of herself at age 92. David told me that he had stopped several times to see her when his job took him through Willmar, but he rarely would find her at home. She goes out every day, having a schedule that would make me tired...seeing friends and keeping active.

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On Sunday we talked of times past. I reminded her of a cocker spaniel the family had when I was a kid, named Taffy. Taffy had a litter of puppies, and Henry kept one of them. This pup had a habit of getting excited when he would see me, shaking his behind back and forth, looking like a Hula dancer. Henry had given him a name that I have long since forgotten, but I called the pup "Hula." One day Henry told me to stop calling the dog "Hula," as the pup wouldn't respond to his real name. He acted mad about it, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. Inez laughed at the memory, and said she thought that the name I chose was a good one.

We talked of memories from life on the farm, of good neighbors who had passed on and those who were still in the area. We talked of Grandchildren and Great-grandchildren, and how busy they all are. She wanted to know all about my brother and sister, and what they all were doing now.

We even talked of lutefisk. She still makes it at Christmas time, although she says there are only a few who will eat it. She enjoyed it during the holidays, but always made another meat dish for the rest of us. Years ago, when she told me that she has one kettle that is used for nothing but lutefisk, I decided then and there that I was not brave enough to eat something that needed it's own cooking kettle. She still laughs at me for my cowardice. I will, however, given the opportunity, dive into a dish of her baked creamed corn that she made as well each holiday season, or sit up and beg for one of her chocolate chip cookies.

Inez is an amazing woman. She has lost her husband to cancer, as she has her oldest daughter. Her oldest son died a little over a year ago. And after all of this heartache, she remained more concerned about how I am coping with my loss than her own.

When it was time to leave after Jacob's birthday party, we seemed to postpone our parting as long as possible. It was with happiness at seeing her again mixed with regret that we see each other so seldom, that I gave her a final hug and told her how much I love her, and she responded in kind.

I am forever grateful that Inez has been a part of my life for so many years. I am blessed.

Christmas With Mom

Every year my children plan a get-together with me at Christmas time. It is something I look forward to each holiday season.

This year I spent Christmas Eve with Duane, Kathy and Kathy's daughter's family. It was especially fun for me as I had not before had the opportunity to see Duane and Kathy's apartment in Gaylord. They have such a nice place - cozy and homey. We went from there to spend the evening with Kathy's daughter, son-in-law and two grandkids, two pooches and assorted cats. My kind of place. They made me feel right at home. There was enough food for a decent sized army, and we ate until we couldn't any more, and then moved on to open gifts. After that, we talked and ate some more and just enjoyed being together. When we were ready to go back to Duane and Kathy's place, there were hugs all around and when Kathy's daughter told me that I was welcome there any time, I knew that she meant it. Duane drove me home the following day. I so enjoyed my time with them.

The next Sunday afternoon we gathered at David and Staci's home for our annual Christmas get-together. It is always so much fun to be with my children and grandchildren, and that day was no exception.

The small kids and grownup kids spent time playing the new Wii game that David's kids had received for Christmas. There was much bantering about who was going to beat who and how badly they were going to be beaten in bowling. Jeri's friend Jon was with us for the first time, and I knew he fit right in when he teased Chris that he was going to call all of Chris's friends and tell them that Chris's six year old girl cousin had beaten him in bowling. Chris did redeem himself and went on to win some games.

David fixed a wonderful ham dinner and there were goodies galore. Everyone brought something to add to the meal as is our custom when we all meet like this. If anyone went away hungry, it was their own fault.

After dinner, we went to open gifts. It is so much fun to watch the kids open their presents. Jacob had tried really hard to get a head start on the present thing before dinner, crawling towards the tree a few times, but we managed to head him off at the pass and he had to wait like the rest. Soon the family room floor was a sea of wrapping paper and ribbons. The grandkids liked the quilts I had made for them. They were the secret surprises mentioned in a previous post. They seemed to generate a few extra hugs and kisses for Grandma, and that was worth every hour spent making them.

It is a funny thing...sewing quilts. Not "ha ha hee hee" funny, but perhaps sort of "odd" funny. There is a lot of time alone with one's thoughts while sewing. As I am not a huge fan of TV, I didn't have that distraction while working, but often had music playing. I found myself thinking about each child as I sewed together the pieces of that person's quilt. I thought about how the fabrics of one quilt suited the bubbly personality of one child. And how the grownup patterns in other fabrics were just right for one teetering on the edge of becoming an adult. The girly prints served to remind me of the similarities between these two little granddaughters and my own daughters when they were of the same ages. One of the boy's quilts got me thinking about that child's outlook on life that often tickles my funny bone, and how he has gone from being very shy with me to being outgoing and so loving. The baby's quilt conjured pictures of a ready smile mixed with a little sadness that soon he will no longer be a baby. One tends to lump these children all together under the heading of "Grandkids." But each is his or her own person with a unique personality. As I thought of each individual child, I could see traits of their parents as well as traits of mine and of their grandpa in each one. I am truly blessed as a grandma to have these children for my grandkids.

After pie and coffee and a little more conversation, it was time for the drive home. As we were getting ready to leave, David remarked to me that it was so nice that nobody had to rush off right away and how good it was to set and relax and talk. I know that most of you think that I tend to live in the past, talking as I do about times when I was young. I don't really live there...I just have fond memories of times when life moved at a slower pace than now. But as Christmas get-togethers go, this one comes really close to those that live in my memory.

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Eccentric Cat Lady

When Buster and Rose went to live in their new home, Noodle the cat just didn't seem to know what to do with himself. When he lived with David and Staci, he had Charlie the Beagle to pester. And after he came to live here, he had first Barney the Cocker Spaniel, and after Barney went to Doggie Heaven, he had Buster and Rose.

Then in June of this past year, he found himself all alone all day long. I realize that cats spend a great deal of their lives asleep, but Noodle just didn't seem to like being alone. He adhered himself to me like Velcro from the time I came home from work in the evening until I left for work the next morning. He plunked himself between me and my computer monitor. He sat in the middle of every book I tried to read. I would find him sitting in the plastic box next to my sewing machine that held my quilt pieces while I was sewing. He fussed and yowled and carried on when I left for work in the morning until I couldn't hardly stand it. That boy knows how to work a guilt trip.

New toys didn't help. He would play for a short time and then back to my side he came. I left the TV or radio on for him during the day, trying to fool him into thinking someone was in the apartment with him, but he didn't like that either. I even tried catnip filled mice, hoping that some good kitty drugs might mellow him out. Nope. Not gonna happen. It was time for Noodle to have a buddy...besides me.

Now I didn't really want a kitten. I don't have the patience for litter box training. Nor do I want every surface in my apartment scratched or shredded with tiny little razor sharp claws. Kittens are cute, but they grow into cats who run up vet bills being neutered and declawed. Not good.

It was about that time that Duane mentioned to me that Kathy needed a home for her two cats. Duane and Kathy can't have pets at their apartment, and the cats weren't the best of friends with Kathy's daughter's dogs. As I inquired further about them, I found that both were female, both had been spayed, and one of them had been declawed. Those of you who know me well know what happened next.

Duane and Kathy brought Kiley to me first. She is a beautiful gray color with white sox. It was appropriate that she be the first to come live with me, as she has to be first in everything. Can't help it. Just the way she is. Has to be the first to eat when the food bowl is filled. Needs to be first in the newly cleaned litter box. You get the idea.

She was less than thrilled to come to her new home. She hid. First, behind the stove in the kitchen. Then she wedged herself between the wall and my bed. I have no idea how she managed that, as she weighed a good 20 pounds. Then came the day that I couldn't find her at all. She had disappeared, which is a really good trick for a cat her size in a small apartment. I emailed Duane and asked if he knew how it was possible to lose a 20 pound cat. He just laughed at me. I found her by accident the next day. I had given up looking for her, and sat down on the couch in my living room. Because of the animals, the couch is covered with an old comforter. It was when I sat down that I noticed this rather large lump on the couch, under the comforter. Yup. Kiley. She still goes to that spot now and then for her naps. She doesn't hide any more, but spends her time supervising me in whatever chores I am doing around the house. She is pretty good at it, too.

Kizzie arrived a week later. She has the most unusual markings of any cat I have ever seen. Her body is mainly a tortoise shell color, but she has one orange striped front leg and a stripe of orange on her nose, along with scattered white markings.

Kizzie didn't spend as much time hiding as did Kiley. I think that was probably because Kizzie outweighed Kiley by a good 4 or 5 pounds. There was no place large enough for her to hide, except beneath a chair or behind the couch. So when she tried to hide, she would end up with her head hidden in a corner and her massive body hanging out from her hiding spot. It was as though she figured if she couldn't see me, I probably couldn't see her. I let her hold onto that thought for a couple of days until she decided that she didn't want to play that game any more.

Kizzie is way too heavy to jump up any higher than the seat of a chair, so she spends time on the bedroom chair or on one of the kitchen chairs. The rest of the time she patrols at floor level, making sure that all is well within her world. There came the day when I couldn't find her, and after searching, discovered her napping in the dirty clothes basket behind the bathroom door. Why she loves this place to sleep, I have no idea, but she gets really testy when I do laundry and there is nothing soft and cushy in the basket for her to lay on.

So this is how I became the eccentric cat lady. Starla teases me that I will become one of those old women who has dozens of cats. You know the ones. They appear on the nightly news now and again. People shake their heads and wonder aloud how that nice old lady wound up crazy enough to have that many cats.

But I think that three are plenty for me. They get along with a minimum of hissing and growling. There has been bloodshed only once when Kiley, for reasons known only to her, bit Kizzie on the butt. Every once in a while, it seems that they all have a burst of energy at the same time, and will run like mad from one end of the apartment to the other, and back again. Several times. Noodle is usually in the lead, with Kiley right on his tail. Kizzie gets into the game as well, waddling along behind as fast as she can.

So Noodle now has friends. He has company while I am at work, and he doesn't feel the need to attach himself to me when I get home. And they are company for me. I don't have to take them out for a walk when the temperature is below zero. They don't bark and annoy the neighbors. And most important, they make me laugh. Out loud, sometimes. I can live with being the eccentric cat lady for that reason alone.

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