Bittersweet treasures

My beloved husband George lost his bladder cancer battle in the early morning hours of August 19. He was right here at home, in a hospital bed in our living room, overlooking the lake that he loved. He was ready for his journey. We had called Hospice who guided us through those last days; he received the sacrament and last rites of his Catholic faith; kids and grandkids were here in person or via FaceTime; he hugged every one of them, his dear treasures.

One last cribbage game with his favorite partner, Steve; several hand squeezes for me and then he grew tired and silent. My youngest sister was here with me and one of us held his hand through the night. My hand was firmly in his as he left for his new home with Jesus, our Lord and Savior who we worshipped together.

It was both bittersweet and a treasure. Calm, peaceful, beautiful. At 93, he earned his heavenly reward; he served the world well; he caught all the fish he needed; his WordFind books were full, his work was done. 

Relaxing with his WordFind
book of puzzles in Arizona  

We had a lovely funeral service for him at our church. It was perfect in every way, complete with an honor guard, a gun salute and a flag presentation to honor George, an Air Force veteran. A luncheon was enjoyed afterwards, a time to visit and relive memories.

And now here am I, alone and missing him more than words can say. But I have treasures now, too. Friends and family who never left me, neighbors whose offers of help mean so much, expressions of sympathy, memorial gifts, cards and phone calls, all reminding me I'm not alone. I have beautiful memories to savor. I’m very fortunate and very blessed.

I treasure above all the greatest gift my husband gave me: absolute and endless unconditional love. I will return his love beyond measure in my heart to the end of time. 

Rest well, my sweetheart.

Friends and neighbors

I still find each day too short 
for all the thoughts I want to think,
all the walks I want to take,
all the books I want to read,

and all the friends I want to see.

                                                  ~ John Burroughs

These strange days of isolating while the coronavirus floats its potentially-deadly droplets into the atmosphere, I find I am missing my friends and casual get-togethers terribly. Facetime and Zoom may be better than nothing but are poor substitutes for sharing a cup of coffee across the table from a friend.

I've been thinking about friendships in general, and the interesting, varied and sometimes even strange ways in which friends meet. There are the obvious such as one's own siblings, cousins and co-workers. With any luck, you are blessed with friendships from these groups. My own BFF is from high school, another obvious group for that age. Together she and I have celebrated weddings and showers, shared child-raising, empty nests, joys and sorrows. In addition to this cherished friendship, high school brought me and my best friend into a foursome group of friends still close to this day. And no, I won't divulge how many years that has been. 

One of our annual get-together lunches.

But there are the not-so-obvious ways we connect and in which close and long-time friendships are formed. 

Neighbors can just be neighbors, or close friendships can be formed which in my case turned out to be a lifeline. When we lived in Ohio in the early 1970s and my husband's job involved traveling, I developed a medical condition that caused me to sometimes lose consciousness. My neighbor, Sandy, who I already considered a friend, came across the street to check on me every morning. If she saw I wasn't well and needed rest, she scooped up my two kiddos and took them home with her until I was able to get them. Another neighbor became a lifelong friend and I am Godmother to her first-born son. And another neighbor in our condominium resulted in a very strong bond though she has since moved away.

Many years ago, there was an AOL site where you could post an inquiry and get responses. I was researching for a story about my maternal grandmother from Sweden who met my grandfather when he was in the Danish Merchant Marine. Although I had postcards he wrote to her from the ship he was on, sailing the world over, I had no idea what he did or indeed what the Merchant Marine was.

So I posted an inquiry hoping to learn more and received a response from Shelly in Queens, New York. She was researching as well, hoping to learn about her birth parents since she was adopted as a twin infant. I told her my birthplace was New York and that led to us chatting back and forth. Oftentimes these chats just end naturally when the subject of the inquiry is exhausted. But not with me and Shelly. We became friends and our friendship grew beyond our research resulting in several visits to see her in New York, sharing visits to South Street Seaport, Broadway musicals and trudging though a December blizzard holding my luggage up to miss the snowbanks.

And who would think riding the city bus, of all things, would bring a dear friend? It's how I met Laura. We waited at the bus stop together every morning on our way to work, striking up a conversation, then another and another, leading to a dinner invitation at her home. Retired now, we have remained friends.

And simply by offering to recommend a travel service following our 2004 trip to Czech Republic, I received an email from a woman named Sharon in Iowa, asking why or why not she and her husband should book a tour with this particular agency. There was a certain chemistry in our exchanges of information that blossomed naturally into a strong friendship. We meet when we can, sometimes along with our husbands, though they live in Iowa and we are in Minnesota. Last summer, we visited with them in their gorgeous home.

Then there are Facebook groups. Since I am an avid cross-stitcher, I joined a group of stitchers whose love of primitive stitching is what we have in common. There I met Barb. Barb lives in the birthplace of my paternal grandfather in St. Ansgar, Iowa. We started sharing messages about her town, our stitching projects and everyday life. Somehow we were magically drawn to each other like a magnet. She is my most encouraging friend in every way and is there to be my rock when I need one. Hopefully I am that for her as well. We connect by messaging often and meeting at least once a year. 

So friends are found in both likely and unlikely places if you are open to looking. A spark can grow between two people and you'll end up not knowing what you ever did without them.

Are we going to be friends forever? Asked Piglet.
Even longer, Pooh answered. 

👭

As always, thank you for reading and allowing me to share my thoughts.

November musings

Here it is, the last day of November. And I've posted nothing since mid-October. Topics for new posts come and go in my head and yet I never quite make it to the computer to jot them down.

I only hope you won't give up on me. I promise to do better. I love to write and I love even more that you think it worthy of reading my rambles.

So today, I will simply ramble about this and that.

Update on The C Word: My husband has his surgery to remove the cancerous bladder in early September. I could fill a page with the six weeks that ensued but you might never read another post of mine if I did that. Suffice it to say, the following six weeks involved four hospitalizations, two transitional care stays and some major bumps in the road. We often wondered if we would ever get past another bump as one issue after another seemed to crop up.

Fast forward to today: We have arrived at our winter home in Arizona and hubby is doing well. Today he is putting up our outdoor Christmas lights, greens and decorations.

Without the help of dear and longtime friends, I'm not sure we would be in such great shape. Since they arrived earlier, they got our car ready by reconnecting the battery, removing the wheel covers, blowing up tires, washing it, and having it all ready to drive. They washed our carport, removed the deck covering, anchored in place by heavy blocks, cleaned the deck, washed the deck rails, made sure we had some groceries, then picked us up from the airport which involved transporting Catrina, the cat, along with us and our four heavy bags of luggage.

To top it off, they had dinner ready for us a couple of hours later. A warm, nourishing meal complete with Cherry Crisp for dessert. Are they friends to cherish or what? We're so glad they are ours!

My sister, Joan, gave up two days to care for us before we left while I was ill, tending to me, driving George to two doctor appointments (one in a blizzard), and making sure we were in good shape to leave. Then she drove us to the airport.

So our November was filled with gratitude and thanksgiving, the likes of which we felt deep in our soul. Grateful for family, grateful for friends; above all, grateful to God who made His presence known and felt working through these dear ones.

Thanksgiving brought the coldest day in thirty years in Minnesota. Yet here in Arizona, we set a record high of 87 degrees. Such a contrast.

So as I muse, our November was a month of contrasts: sick versus well, independent versus dependent, giving versus receiving, cold versus hot. But always and constantly blessed.

I hope you will be patient with me as I regain momentum and and that you'll continue reading as I post into December and beyond.

Thank you to each of you for your loyal readership. I don't take you for granted.

Laying low

I am recovering from foot surgery four days ago. Laying low, you might say. It is not fun.

Not that I am in pain, because I'm not. I'm grateful for that. But the worst thing in the world for me is to follow the doctor's orders to stay off my foot and keep it elevated with ice.

Stay off my foot? Me? Seriously?

It's harder work than work. I need a chill pill about now. A person can only take so much sitting in a chair with your foot elevated. Tired of reading. Tired of knitting. Poor me.

Ever have days when you're your own worst enemy? Well, I started out the day that way. Then I read a Facebook post from a friend I know with cancer. Yesterday's doctor visit for her did not go as well as she anticipated when she got the most recent scan report that showed cancer activity. Just when she was hoping to hear there was no activity whatsoever.

My poor-me-pity-party turned around on a dime.

Sometimes we need to pause and give thanks for whatever circumstances we find ourselves in. There are always more blessings, more reasons to be grateful, more sunshine than clouds, and more love than we even have a right to expect.

And the encouragement from others my friend received and the kudos for her courage were heartwarming. If she can keep her head high and her hopes up, my puny little dribbles of temporary, passing, slight discomfort make me ashamed. I will heal.

And I will focus my prayers and thoughts on her healing, as well. It's definitely time better spent.

Dedicated to Barb with my very best wishes for a complete recovery.

 

Honorary Red Hat

My  neighbor, Thelma, is one of those wonderful people you love to know.

She is one of those rare women who doesn't let one single moment of life pass her by. As I get to know her better here in Mesa, our winter home, she becomes more dear to me.

She is involved in anything and everything fun. From the park's Kitchen Band, to morning exercises in the pool, to card games, to participating in melodramas, to going to McDonald's in a clown costume after riding her golf cart in the Mardi Gras parade....  If there is fun involved, Thelma is in the middle of it.

Watching her makes me smile.  She balances out the introverted, reflective side of me. I always take life a bit too seriously for my own good.

Yesterday, I was her guest for lunch at a Red Hat Ladies' get-together.  She invited me a week ago as she thought it would be nice for me to get to know other women in our park. 

And so, for a day, I was an honorary member of the local Red Hats!

A global society, Red Hats International was founded in 1998 and is open to women who are age 50 and beyond. Its mission is to support and encourage women in their pursuit of fun, friendship, freedom, fulfillment, and fitness. It strives to reshape the way women are viewed in today's culture.

Well, if there is fun involved, I can see why Thelma is part of this group.

A nicer group of women you would never meet. Warm and welcoming, it was an honor to be in their company. All wore stylish outfits of purple and elegant red hats.  While at lunch, a waiter came to our table and asked "Why are you all wearing red hats?"

Thelma replied, "Because we can do anything we want!"  He said, simply, "Oh."  But we could tell he didn't get it. He walked away looking rather perplexed. 

Too bad he wasn't the one to take our order. In true Red Hat style, one woman ordered breakfast of eggs and pancakes, and a glass of Chardonnay. Half of the group ordered wine, because a real Red Hatter pays no attention to the time of day for drinking wine.

The group bases its philosophy on Jenny Joseph's wonderful poem, Warning. The opening lines of the poem read:

“ When I am an old woman I shall wear purple,

With a red hat that doesn't go and doesn't suit me.”

I do believe this particular group's main purpose is just getting together once a month as friends and enjoying each other's company. Going to lunch is their main activity. They do it well, and I was proud to join them.

The leader of the Red Hat group is referred to as the Queen.  Well, in this case, guess who is the Queen? 

       ....Yes, that would be Thelma.


Thelma made sure I had a red hat.


Every woman should have a Thelma in her life. I'm sure glad I do!

A day in Scottsdale

Early this week, our friends, the Minars, awaited a phone call from their daughter in Minnesota, telling them of an impending date for surgery which would necessitate a trip back home for them, either for a week or so, or possibly the entire season.

On pins and needles, not knowing what the doctors had in mind and waiting for the news, we all decided it was a good day for a distraction and headed to Scottsdale, about a 30-minute drive from Mesa.

We had never been there, and since they had, they acted as tour guides. Downtown Scottsdale is beautiful with upscale shops, art studios, pottery, silversmiths, clothing, restaurants, and more, more, more.

Only one of the beautiful fountains in Scottsdale

Much of the artwork and pottery pieces we saw were typical Southwestern art that I love. Small boutique-type shops featured local art and unique one-of-a-kind handmade things not found elsewhere.

After a morning of browsing, we had worked up an appetite.
The Minars recommended an authentic Mexican restaurant where they had dined before. So we feasted on enchiladas, tacos, Coronas and Margaritas on the outdoor patio.

It was a perfect-weather day, I might add. Bright sun, and mid-70s with a light breeze.

Perfect day, all around.

We took a trolley to Old Town where we were met by...guess what? More shops...and even more shops!

Just when we thought we needed to rest our legs a bit, we spotted a bench with one of those bronze statues that you can have photos taken with. So I suggested taking a picture of Mary Kay snuggling up against the bronze guy; and while she got settled for a good pose, I busied myself getting the camera all ready to snap the perfect picture.

Mary Kay and her "bronze" buddy

Well, this wasn't exactly the pose...

She was about to place her hand on the "bronze" guy's knee when suddenly he moved! It wasn't a statue at all, but a real man. I wish I hadn't been monkeying with the camera because I'd have loved to see the expression on her face to match the scream I heard. I looked up just in time to see him wink and she was laughing hysterically.

After that, we all felt like we had reached our saturation points with all the shops, and headed back for some yogurt and sorbet sundaes.

But I came home with a prize. A Mexican pot and stand, signed by the artist, found at a second-hand store (the only one we saw) for $30.

At the end of the day, however, the real prize for all of us was spending the day together, laughing, shopping, dining, enjoying each other. Forgetting the worry for a short time.

Then the phone call came.

And so this weekend, our friends will head back to Minnesota for their daughter's surgery and will remain there for the season. Chemotherapy will follow the surgery and their daughter will need their help.

We would do the same thing as we share with our friends the same family values, and we understand. We will miss them.

But we will be right here praying for a successful outcome for both the surgery and the rounds of chemo treatments, and we will pray for complete healing for this precious young woman.

We share each others' burdens because that is what friends do.

Thank you for the wonderful day spent with you, Mary Kay and Bob. And God go with you on your travels home.

Thrift shopping

How many of you like a bargain? Okay, okay, I see all of you are raising your hands.

So how many of you love to snoop around in thrift shops?  If you have never done so, you just don't know what you might be missing.

Forget garage sales.  You have to drive around to find them, park two or three blocks away, and then discover all they have are dirty children's clothes, odds and ends of dishes, small appliances that may or may not work, or puzzles with pieces missing.

But at most thrift shops, donated items are cleaned, tested, and tend to be in sets, like dinnerware or kitchen canisters. Really gross stuff gets rejected as this gives a good thrift store a bad name.

My friend and I ventured to the charming town of Cambridge, Minnesota, one day last week. This was a half-way meeting point for both of us, she from St. Cloud and me from Lindstrom.  Our purpose in meeting was to catch up on our lives as we don't get a chance to visit very often, and to treat ourselves to lunch and a good visit.

We accomplished our goal with a two-hour lunch at Hermann's Bakery and Cafe on Main Street that was absolutely wonderful. A cozy table by the window outlined with lace curtains and looking out on Main Street decorated with yellow autumn mum plants provided the ambiance for a yummy spinach salad, freshly baked cinnamon bread, and creamy Chai tea.

But our minds during lunch were fixed on the view directly across the street: the Shalom Thrift Shop, which beckoned as we ate and demanded our attention. Neither of us were about to resist.

Like most thrift shops, it is staffed totally with volunteers. One of the nicest thrift stores I have seen, it's more like a department store - neat, clean, spacious aisles, well organized, and with professional-looking displays.

The shop started in 1981 with a ladies' church group offering free clothing in a parsonage basement one day a week to those in need. It quickly grew from the basement to a grocery store parking lot, to space in an entire house, to a shoe store, to its present location, an old Ben Franklin store on Main Street.

All items were spotless. Dishes sparkled, clothes were clean, books were categorized, and Halloween costumes and decorations were prominently featured.

There was even a quiet library sitting area where you could take a break and peruse the books on the shelf before making the decision to purchase a book.  Hmmm, a paperback for 35 cents? Or a hard cover book for a dollar?

Greeting cards were ten cents each. Again, categorized by occasion and neatly lined up with matching envelopes.

Entertaining as it was, and notwithstanding the wonderful time spent with my dear friend, I approached the checkout line with a full cart. A tissue holder in a southwestern design for our home in Arizona, a cake pan, a pair of slacks, a book, a Tupperware picnic set, a wooden salad serving set, three boxes of hardware for our Arizona bedroom, and nightlight bulbs.

Grand total?  Seventeen dollars!

The real value, however, came from realizing that my purchases were a vehicle for helping someone in need in the local community. All donated, with pleasant volunteer staff that sort, clean, fix, stock, and ring up a sale, that $17 might go into a gas tank for someone searching for a job, buy a clean blanket, pay for bus fare, or furnish a child with school lunches.

Next time you see a thrift store, check it out. Bargains abound for you, and benefit a neighbor as a bonus.

Spending an afternoon with a friend?  Diane and I can attest to the fun an afternoon of thrift shopping can provide.

Burger bash

Every Friday at The Resort, the park where our home is located, there is a "Burger Bash" around the pool. The large grills are set up and resident volunteers do the grilling.

Only sometimes it is a "Chicken Bash" and sometimes, a "Brat Bash."

Well, we attended the Brat Bash on Friday.

Over 300 people attend and somehow all are served. How it is done so quickly and efficiently is beyond me. I have trouble getting two dishes done at the same time to serve the two of us.

The bash starts at noon. But you must get a ticket in advance ($5), and you must arrive at 11:00 if you want a chance at a place to sit.

But you are rewarded with musical entertainment while you wait. While I'm not overly fond of country-western music, our guitar-pickin' singer kept us in a lively mood and accompanied all the chatter without drowning us out.

Most tables were filled with groups of friends, and most were involved in card games as they waited. You could quickly tell they were veteran resort dwellers. In fact, many have been here for over twenty years and know each other well by now.

Our own table was filled with friends as well. We joined Mary Kay and Bob, our long-time friends from home, and some new friends, Glen and Nancy, who hail from Washington and live across the street.

Our wait to eat was well rewarded with brats served on a really fresh bakery roll, sauerkraut and potato salad. We've learned to bring our own beer or soda along, but if you're not with the program and you didn't bring your own, you can buy it.

Being entirely with the program, we brought our own.

Our afternoon was complete with an invitation for dessert on the porch at the Minars: lemon cake with an orange glaze.

Great weather, great food, great friends. Life is good in Mesa!

We four

We've been friends for a very long time.
Me, Mary Kay, Rosie and Janie.

Rose and Jane and I go way back to grade school at Central Lutheran. We shared some of the same classes and teachers: Mr. Rosenwinkel, Mrs. Carlson, Mr. Dreyer. Sat together at lunchtime. Central Lutheran sloppy joe's, our favorite, along with hamburger gravy over mashed potatoes. Good, nourishing Lutheran food.

But then in high school, we met Mary Kay and became a foursome. Double-dating on occasion, sharing classes, meeting before and after school, and passing notes back and forth in between. Confiding our teenage crushes, heartaches, and imparting wise counsel on the matter du jour.

Mary Kay met Bob as a sophomore, became engaged in our senior year, and married the September after graduation. They have four daughters and live not far from me.

Rose met Bob in her sophomore year. Became engaged after graduation, married the following February. They have a son and two daughters. They live in Florida, having moved there for a job transfer.

Jane met Wayne on a blind date, with me playing matchmaker. They became engaged a short time later, and married in October. They have two sons and a daughter and live in Wisconsin.

Bridal showers were given and weddings were shared with great joy. Housekeeping tips and recipes were exchanged. And then the baby showers began.

Our children were born in sequential years, one each year from 1964 to 1969. We, of course, advised each other on baby care and child-rearing.

Somehow the years flew by before our very eyes. Our children started school, graduated and married. Grandchildren followed. And, in my case, the distinction of the first great-grandchild.

When Rose comes home to Minnesota, about once a year, we get together. This happened last month when we all met for lunch.

(L-R) Rose, Me, Jane, Mary Kay

There is nothing quite the same as long-time, tried and true friends.

Together through joys and sorrows, achievements and challenges. Celebrations and disappointments. Loss of parents. Health crises. A bond that cannot be broken.

We four. Friends forever. The real treasures of life.

Boxcar children

When my childhood friend, Kathy Jones, came to my house to visit, we often chose to play Boxcar Children.

~ Kathy and I, 1956

Boxcar Children, one of our favorite books,
is the delightful story of four children who run away from home. Their parents have died, and they don’t want to be sent away to live with their grandfather.


They don't actually know their grandfather, but they conclude he must be mean, and he certainly doesn’t love them, since he's never come to see them.

Kathy and I became the poor, needy, but brave, orphans in the book, venturing into the woods and making beds of pine needles.

When we discover a boxcar to hide in, we scavenge a nearby dump for dishes and furnishings. Finding some old utensils and some metal bowls, we clean and polish them with sand.

This game appealed to Kathy’s innate sense of adventure, and my "nesting" instinct, preferring to pretend things that were homey, safe and comforting.

We had the perfect spot for Boxcar Children: a little clearing in a vacant lot off the alley on Prior, between Lincoln and Grand Avenues, in back of Dory’s corner grocery store.

Kathy and I would hide out in our little clearing off the alley, hoping we wouldn't be discovered. We were, after all, surviving, on our own, escaping being sent to our wicked grandfather.

Only, in the story, Grandfather turns out to be a loving man, playful, generous and very kind and gentle. When the children are finally discovered and he sees how much the boxcar has meant to them, he has it moved to his farm as a playhouse for them.

But Kathy and I never got to the end of the story. It was too much fun to hide, fear being found, and remain brave while trying to stay sheltered, warm and fed.

Of course, after awhile, we Boxcar Children would head for home.

Exhausted from our adventure. And most likely in time for supper.

Catching the big one

During these waning days of warm weather, my husband is trying to get in all the fishing he possibly can.

Besides, the water is cold now, says he. And the fish are at their best for eating.

So most of these autumn afternoons, especially late in the afternoon, you can find him down on the dock, wetting a line. Sometimes the neighbors, also avid fishermen, join him.


It is fun for me to just watch them. I try to imagine their conversation. That is, if there is any...

The pros and cons of live bait. Wax worms versus leeches. Sucker minnows. Lindy rigs and bobbers. Tales of past fish caught. How much the big one fought the line. The struggle to reel him in.

At any rate, it's nice to see them enjoy each other's company and their mutual passion. To see them relaxing together and bonding; if, indeed, men do that.

A few days ago, George caught "the big one." A 12-plus-pound Northern.
And, wouldn't you know, there was nobody around to see it. I had gone to do some errands, and it didn't seem anyone nearby was home.
So he brought the fish up to at least snap a photo of it before he released it back into the lake.

He had to walk around the condo and to the end of the hall to finally find a neighbor, Bea Nelson, at home. She readily agreed to come take a picture. He could hardly wait to tell me about it when I returned home. I really wished I had been here to share in his excitement. And, of course, to see this big fish.

Yup, these days are coming to an end. Soon it will be too chilly and the remaining portion of the dock will be pulled ashore. The lake will begin to freeze. The fishing equipment will reluctantly be stored with a sigh.

And my husband will dream his sweet dreams of next year's fishing. Can he top an 11-pound Northern?

In his dreams, I bet he can!