Good memories soften the bad times

You know how it is when you're having one of those weeks? When time gets away from you, and sometime in the wee hours of the morning you're jolted awake with the thought that you forgot something important? That's happened more than once in the last few days and if that isn't enough, there has been plenty of news that tilted our world a bit. Still, we count ourselves blessed that things aren't worse.

When I get a bit too much on my plate and things start spiraling out of control, it's time to find a comfy chair and zone out for a bit. I go to my Happy Place.

To do this properly and get the most out of it, the TV is turned off, the dog is put out in the back yard and no one else can be around. That done, I brought back some fun memories of summer when sis and I were kids.

I settled back in my chair and in seconds I was back on Tenney Street, when it was a two-lane brick road. It was a sultry summer afternoon, the air was heavy and every breeze was a godsend. Sis and I were sitting on the front steps watching cars go by, and there weren't many of those. The neighbors across the street were sitting on their porch swing, fanning themselves and sipping lemonade.

We weren't just watching traffic, though; we were waiting for Mom to come back from Cooper's Gas Station less than a block away. We didn't have a car, we walked everywhere. Mom was getting her Pall Mall cigarettes, and we didn't expect anything else, but we sure got a happy surprise.

As we sat waiting, both of us too hot to even talk, we heard a sound coming from about half a block away. I can still see her making her way home. Mom held three bottles of Pepsi, the glass slick with condensation, the red, white and blue logo beaded with water drops. The bottles were tinkling against each other making the sweetest sound. Mom was smiling, just a little, another welcome image that makes for a happy memory.

I don't think ice cold soda has ever tasted as good as it did that summer afternoon when I was ten.

Fast forward a few decades, and there I am, married, with two little boys. This was an especially sweet recollection of a time when the whole family got along well, when we celebrated for no good reason. We simply got together for a cookout, baseball, volleyball and tag. The kids chased and caught lightning bugs and let them go, and rode with Grandpa on his tractor or piled in the wagon behind it and made countless trips around the house. In-laws and cousins laughed together and talked for hours, until the little ones fell asleep in our laps and we carted them off home to tuck in their own beds.

We all grew older and sadly, in some cases, grew apart, yet each of us carries our own memories of those times and it would do everyone good to bring them back to mind. Maybe if we did it often enough we would be tempted to create more good experiences that our kids and grandkids can bring to mind when they need a happy place to visit.

This week I was fortunate enough to be invited to a poodle birthday party. I got to meet half a dozen of the most well-behaved, one-year-old standard poodles all gussied up in their finest fur, hair bows and party hats. There was cake and ice cream and a dandy behind-the-scenes story to go along with this special day for some incredible women and the dogs they love and who obviously love them. I'll share that with you next Wednesday in the Lifestyles section.

I mentioned this story because I'm putting it away for the future when I need a heart-warming and fun memory to get me through a tough day. We're all going to get those, you know, but I'm betting that each of us have had more good times than bad. Let's all work on creating fun times, and when we're going through a rough patch, let's get together and support one another. It couldn't hurt, and it just might end up being brought to mind someday when you need to visit your own Happy Place.

Martyrdom not all it’s cracked up to be

We practice a lot of martyrdom in our house, but it's not the kind one would normally think of.

When the checkbook is screaming for mercy we will buy store-brand diet soda, which, truth be told, isn't half bad. If Pepsi or Coke is on sale, we'll grab that instead--after all, what's a few cents once a month? And we like to add flavors like root beer, Dr. Pepper, 7Up, that sort of thing.

Eventually the fridge will play host to a mixture of the good stuff and the not half bad stuff, and then the game begins.

Me: "Hey, grab me a soda while you're up."

Him: "What kind?"

Me: "A cola's fine."

Him: "OK. Here's yours, I'll be a martyr and drink the store brand."

That used to bother me; now I just smile and say thanks.

We went from soda martyrdom to air conditioning martyrdom about a month ago. I have a small office on the northeast corner of the house and it gets plenty warm and stuffy in there in summer. I love the privacy, and it's got quite an organized-chaos thing going on, but stepping foot inside the door discourages serious work of any kind. The ice cubes in my name-brand soda melt awfully fast so I mentioned how nice it would be to have an air conditioner in there. Without the slightest hesitation, the remaining air conditioner was given up, installed and started up for me.

"I don't need one," he said. "I'll just use that old box fan and stick it in the window."

I shrugged, got a tall glass of Diet Coke and ice and disappeared into my cool little office.

Eventually I noticed that someone wasn't spending much time at all in his favorite room, and I began to feel bad. Not bad enough to give my a/c, just bad.

I began dropping hints that this was a good time of the year to buy air conditioners, but someone really relishes his role as martyr so nothing much happened at first. Then the 90+ degree days began piling up, and I could feel a weakening in someone's resolve, so off we went to compare prices.

We split up and went to two different stores. Cell phones charged, we gave one another time to get to the proper department then I placed the call.

"I'm looking at a 5000, 8000, 10,000 and 12,000. Didn't we decide it should be 8000?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm not really in front of mine yet. Hold on a sec."

And that's when a helpful, elderly clerk approached and asked me what I was doing. It obviously looked like I was spying for someone and giving out pricing information, so I decided to act natural. "I'm letting my husband know how much the air conditioners are so he can tell me which one to buy."

On the other end of the line I heard, "Huh?"

I continued. "He's outside having a cigarette and he wanted me to come on ahead and pick one out."

"I'm not outside having a cigarette. I told you I just wasn't in front of the air conditioners yet."

The clerk narrowed his eyes, but I was sure he couldn't hear the other end of our conversation. Still, I felt guilty, so I smiled and shook my head. "I've got someone here helping me, and hey, he's pointing out that there's a rebate with this one." I nodded at the clerk, and he proceeded to pick up the unit I pointed at.

In my ear I heard, "Don't pick anything out yet until I compare prices over here. Can you hear me?"

The cart trembled under the weight of the giant box now nestled inside it, and I walked away with a rebate form in hand. "OK," I said, "I'll let you go now. Give me a call when you're ready." And off I went to wander around the store until the phone rang a few minutes later.

"I think I got a real good deal here. I'll be there to pick you up in about five minutes."

I thought about the nice man who had helped me out, and then I headed for the customer service desk. The folks there were polite and understanding and allowed me to leave the loaded cart and rebate form with them. I'm glad I didn't run into the clerk on the way out.

Once home, we switched out the living room unit, put in the new one, read the instructions and waited for cool dry air to make living in our home tolerable again. The smaller unit went upstairs, and all seems to be well. A certain someone is spending more time in his favorite room.

I guess in some cases, martyrdom isn't everything it's cracked up to be.

New job duties, newfound respect for people who care for us all

(Hubby's grandpa, Marvin Grayson, Kewanee's first motorcycle policeman. Thank you, all who came before and all who have come since, for putting your lives on the line for us every day. And that goes for all others who protect us, give us aid and teach - you're all very much appreciated.)



The last few weeks have been eye-opening. New duties at work have allowed me to meet some folks I ordinarily would avoid; you know, police officers, courthouse security, judges and the like.

I mean, really, who wants to be within eyesight of these keepers of the law? Actually it’s quite OK as long as you’re not breaking said law, but still.

Much to my surprise, I’ve found some of the nicest people ever to cross my path. There are police officers who smile and laugh and joke around. You soon realize that they have family, hobbies, just regular outside lives like most everyone else. Thing is, you also soon realize what they have to deal with day in and day out and that’s when it’s time to be thankful that someone felt called to what they do for a living.

Law enforcement people are held to a higher standard in many areas, so in addition to the pressures of everyday duties they must maintain what must seem like impossibly high expectations. They know this going into the job so it comes as no surprise, and it’s good to know they are out there protecting us all.

These aren’t the only people taking care of us. Think of the caregivers in hospitals and nursing homes, doctors’ offices and clinics. Where would we be without them in our lives?

I wish I had the time and energy to interview those listed above. I would ask them why they were led to do what they do, what keeps them there, because in most cases it certainly can’t be the money. I’m a curious sort and the more people I meet doing my job, the more I want to know why others do theirs.

Like a lot of people I have a scanner that picks up traffic incidents, accidents and those sorts of things. It makes one wonder what goes through an officer’s mind when a domestic disturbance is taking place, or an alarm is going off at a bank, or a fight is happening after midnight. How do their families handle the worry day after day after day?

I also send a prayer of thanks for the emergency responders—firemen, EMTs, anyone who goes into that special frame of mind where the number one priority is to keep their patient alive until they get to a hospital. Honestly, I don’t know how you do it but please keep on doing it. Someday we may need you, and we want someone who loves what they do.

One of the reasons I love covering court proceedings and such is because I’m a big, big fan of shows like Law & Order, and authors like John Grisham. Crime interests me because they are a mystery that must be unraveled and the right criminals caught and brought to justice.

Tough jobs for tough people, true. Here’s to all of you who put your lives and sanity on the line so the rest of us can go about our business knowing you have our backs. Thank you, and stay safe.

Someday you'll say, "This ain't nothin'"

"Here's Max, looking out the window, hoping to see her 'daddy' coming home. Well, Max is gone now and we haven't seen her daddy for over seven years. Whatever we're going through now, please stop for a few minutes and ask yourself if it's the worst thing you've ever experienced. Have you been through something even worse? How did you get through that? Are you old enough now, experienced enough from Life's battles to look at your situation with a calmer heart and make things better instead of worse? I miss having Max in our room every night at bedtime, and I miss our oldest son, but missing them won't bring them back. So, the stuff I'm going through right now, well, this ain't nothin'."

I’ve never been to the Bureau County Fair but I’m hoping to go next month. Craig Morgan, one of my favorite country music entertainers is scheduled to perform and I can’t wait.

Morgan sings a tune called, That’s What I Love About Sunday and though few of the lyrics apply to what happens with our family on Sundays, the sentiment is the same. Sundays are special, from sleeping in, to reading the Sunday papers, then church and finally, spending time on whatever you want to do.

Another Morgan favorite is Redneck Yacht Club. I used to buzz around in my little red convertible, and when that song came on I turned up the volume and let the words wash over me while I rode around town. That tune means summer, and I love it.

International Harvester is a fun sing-a-long song. Who hasn’t been stuck behind a big piece of farm machinery on the two-lane, wishing the driver would turn already? In this song, Morgan tells the other side of the story and I’m sure a lot of people feel he sings the truth.

But one of Morgan’s songs struck a nerve recently and the words made me stop and think. Actually, it was mostly the title that did it: This Ain’t Nothin’ tells the story of an old man who loses just about every material thing he owned in a tornado. When a newsman pushes a microphone in the man’s face and asks him what he’s going to do now that he’s lost everything, the response is, “This ain’t nothin’.” The old man goes on to say that money can replace what was lost in the storm.

What really amounts to something is what the old man has lost throughout his life: His daddy when he was a boy of eight; his brother in the Vietnam War; and his wife of 50 years after a long illness. To him, then, having his home reduced to rubble in seconds’ time was really nothing to be overly concerned about.

When we’re young, it seems we get bent out of shape over the silliest things. We collect hurt feelings and carry grudges until we’re weighed down and worn out. We don’t realize that Life is going to hit us upside the head with real sorrow and loss some day, and many of us aren’t prepared to handle the big things like losing our parents, a job, our home, a sibling or what I found to be the most painful of all, the loss of a child. Now that’s something that sticks with a person forever.

I don’t ever want to lose our home to a tornado or anything else; I’m not all that sure I could be as seemingly unfazed as the old man in Morgan’s song. But if I make it to the fair and this song is sung, I’ll be able to identify with the lyrics, to a certain extent anyway. And that’s somethin’, I reckon.

Isn't it time, maybe past time, for you to take care of you?

Windmont Park, a great place to get away for a minute or two and take in the beauty we're blessed with. We take pics, have lunch, walk or just sit still and...listen. Take some time for you, just you, every now and then. Have the courage to say a firm "no" to those who may have come to think you owe them vast chunks of your time and energy. Enjoy life - on your terms.



Lovely stretch of weather we’ve been enjoying lately, isn’t it? Hold the applause; we can’t take all the credit, just a good chunk of it. Say, over a hundred dollars’ worth which is what it cost to get our car’s air conditioning running again. And now we don't need it much.

Maybe we’re big babies, though our ages belie the fact. As we get older we should be more tolerant of Life’s curve balls. We’ve had experience, having gone through trials that test our mettle, yet some of us begin whining at the first sign of warmish air coming through the dashboard vents. Guilty as charged, but I have to say this: That frigid blast we now have really keeps me awake while driving.

I’m spending a bit more time on the road nowadays so having a comfy ride is appreciated. And while my attention is focused on driving, there is a chance to be alone with my thoughts for short periods of time. As long as I don’t have the radio on, I can concentrate on both of those things at the same time.

For instance, this past Monday would have been our youngest son’s 34th birthday. The road trips afforded the opportunity to bring Luke to mind once again, to marvel over the impact he had on the lives of others in his short time here, and this is most important—to send up a heartfelt thanks for the loved ones still with us.

I have also been working on a new book, one that takes an entirely different direction than anything I’ve tried before. Ideas for this quirky piece of fiction come unexpectedly and most often when nothing else is occupying my thoughts.

New experiences have been a great source of material for my journal, and possible short stories. I can’t stand to waste anything, so whenever there’s a spare minute or two I find a way to record what’s happening.

It’s important, I think, to shoehorn in some “alone” time. Take a notebook or a recorder and drive or walk to a nearby park and just sit and be still. I take my camera, too, to capture images I might forget later. Usually those photos end up on a homemade greeting card, another fun, artistic venture of mine.

I love having these precious moments alone. Time passes too quickly and these opportunities are here and gone in the blink of an eye.

If you find the idea of taking some time for yourself impossible, why not take a short five minutes and make a list of your weekly obligations? Do you find yourself collapsing at the end of the day and falling asleep before bedtime? Can you possibly say “no” to those who continually ask for vast chunks of your time and energy?

Five minutes is all it will take, and maybe, just maybe you’ll find that you really do have enough time to slow down and see things from a new perspective. Don’t wait until circumstances force you to sit still; instead, stand up and take charge of your life and how you spend your time or someone else will do it for you.

Dogs made the whole trip worth it

Meet Thistle, my new yellow Lab friend. Well-behaved, happy and healthy--full of life and love and well worth the trip in a thunderstorm. Dogs rule.



Last Friday afternoon I headed toward Galva to do a feature interview. The sky didn’t look bad, just a few clouds here and there dotted the blue background so I didn’t pay as much attention to the weather as I did to the car behind me. It freaks me out when drivers feel the need to ride within kissing distance to the trunk of my car. I had never been to where I was going, so I wasn’t whizzing along at 55 mph. It was important to watch for the sign that would send me in the right direction.

All turned out well, though, and as I headed over lesser-traveled roads I got kind of excited. Soon I would get to meet some dogs and people who love dogs—a dream assignment.

Upon pulling in, a half a dozen pooches of different breeds greeted me with their versions of hello. Beautiful.

During the interview, I glanced up at a very tall window that showed a sky full of dark, churning clouds. The earlier blue background was gone, and the roof of the building was making sounds not unlike one would hear on Halloween in a haunted house. Then the rains came, complete with thunder and plenty of lightning.

We closed up the interview and I stared out the front door. During an apparent break in the monsoon I made a run for the car. Keep in mind, I no longer “run” anywhere, but as I walked really fast to the car I sent up a prayer that went exactly like this: “I don’t wanna die!” I repeated that line all the way, and once safely inside I followed up with, “Thank you, God.”

After a minute, I started down the road that now sported many large puddles of rain water. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled and the defroster was on full-blast. Bent over the steering wheel, I could see a gigantic piece of farm machinery heading straight for me. With no place to pull off, I veered right and started praying again. To my surprise, the driver pulled into a gravel drive ahead of me and I made it to the highway. Now all I had to do was make it home down Rt. 34.

The windshield wipers were going at warp speed but even that wasn’t enough as three semis buzzed past me and sent waves of water onto the windshield. More prayer, and soon I was at Walmart, huddled in a pathetic ball of pent-up fear and waiting once again for a let-up in the downpour. Eventually I made it inside, got what I needed and headed home.

It never occurred to me to ask if the interview I’d just done was worth it, or to complain (too much) about the timing of the storm while I was out in the country. All I had to do was load the pictures of the dog I’d just met onto the computer. Seeing his smiling face I immediately brought back the experience of meeting someone new, and hearing them share the love of what they do.

Jobs don’t get much better than this.

Please don't weirdify my happy place

Ah, Dad's and Mom's back porch. We spent so much time together here, talking and laughing and eating and making plans. Dad used to line the top rail all 'round with tomatoes from his garden, then invite anyone and everyone to take what they needed whenever they wanted. I go here in my mind every now and then because it truly is a "happy place" for me.



I had to laugh out loud the other day when I read the cartoon strip Get Fuzzy. The cat’s name is Bucky, the dog’s name is Satchel and their owner is Rob.

Bucky has no respect for Rob, often calling him Pinkie. He doesn’t think much of Satchel either; in fact, he considers himself the smartest of the three. But I’ve been following the storyline where Bucky decides to change his name to Steve because he believed most geniuses nowadays are named Steve. Bucky’s a genius, most men he knows of named Steve are geniuses, ergo, Bucky should change his name to Steve.

Rob dismissed Bucky’s fantasy for a little while, then felt bad about it so he bought Bucky a couple of outfits with the names of two famous Steves on them. If you’ve ever tried to dress up a cat, you can probably see where this is going. It wasn’t pretty, but Rob finally stuffed his cat into one of the outfits, and the line that sent me into a giggle fit was, “Why must you weirdify my happy place?”

Isn’t that the funniest thing? I mean, have you ever been in your happy place when someone’s come along and just messed up your whole space? Maybe they dampened your mood or dismissed your one-of-a-kind idea. In effect, they weirdified your happy place.

I’ve decided to add this little phrase to my vocabulary. It’s my favorite one at the moment, though there are other ditties I like to toss out now and then.

If someone shares a good experience, I often say, “Cool.” That never gets old to me. “Cool beans” is another popular phrase around here. Many times folks will hear us use Seinfeld-isms, those are our own private jokes; we haven’t run into too many people who get what we’re saying and that’s OK.

Stephen King has inspired a few favorite phrases, though I’m not willing to put my job on the line and use any of them in this newspaper. They’re a hoot though, and I like using one every now and then just to see the look on a certain someone’s face. It’s, well, cool.

Now my father-in-law said some funny stuff. One favorite was, “gosh-darn-it-to-heck anyway!” I tend to use that one often, but one we all remember is, “Let’s get goin’ so we can get back.” Thing is, I say that and mean it, just like Dad did.

That reminds me that this Sunday is Father’s Day. My dad passed on over 15 years ago, and my father-in-law has been gone for six years. We miss him something fierce and not just on Father’s Day. He was such a big part of our lives in so many ways and what we wouldn’t give to turn back time and spend more of it with Dad.

Well, wouldn’t you know it? Gosh darn it to heck, I’ve gone and weirdified my happy place. And that’s not cool.

If your dad is still a part of your family, do something extra special for him this weekend. You’ll be glad you did, and so will he.