Remembering Dwen, Patti and Dad

Don't you sometimes wonder what goes through a dog's mind? Sarah Jane loves to sit and stare out a window and she gets this faraway look in her eyes, like she's having a special memory. I do that too, especially when I want to bring someone back for just a little while.


Many years ago when there was a Bonanza restaurant on Tenney St., I remember walking inside for breakfast and finding a table off to my left with three deceased diners seated around it. Time stopped as I gaped at the two men and one woman eating eggs, drinking coffee and laughing, apparently unaware they shouldn’t still be here—on Earth.

I took a spot on the right side of the restaurant and continued to steal glances in their direction. Today I can’t remember who these folks were, and even back then my eyesight was terrible so obviously these three simply resembled my dearly-departed acquaintances.

Obviously.

Nowadays I only see those who have passed on in my mind and dreams. Take the Australian Open, now in its second and final week. Some top seeds are still in the running—Roger Federer, Kim Clijsters, Andy Murray—though that could change by the time this sees print. I’m pulling for Federer and Clijsters, but was sad to see Rafael Nadal lose so soon. A match between him and the “Federer Express” is always a fun one to watch.

I mention this event because it brings a dear friend to mind. Dwen Freeburg played tennis for decades, up into his 90s. He introduced my husband to a group of friends who play tennis every week, something we’re both thankful for. And we had a blast talking about the major tennis tournaments and players throughout the year, something we miss now since Dwen is gone.

Almost every Monday I head to the courthouse for hearings, and that’s when my friend Patti comes to mind. Patti passed away a few months ago from breast cancer; I pause by her artwork on the first level of the courthouse and in my mind we say hi to each other. I only use my pink breast cancer awareness pen while there because it makes me feel close to her.

Then there’s Dad. There have been dozens of opportunities since he passed where a situation comes about that calls for a right or wrong declaration. In my dealings with my father-in-law, he saw things as one way or the other and he wasn’t a bit shy about telling you what he believed. At times I thought he was a bit rigid, that there was more than one way to look at something, but I admired the heck out of a man who was bold enough to put what was in his heart into words that he stood by.

Dad comes to mind when I struggle with something or someone and my heart is telling me one thing while those around me tell me something else. More often than not I end up deciding on the answer that gives me peace of mind, even if it doesn’t please everyone. I believe that’s what Dad did, and he was admired by many for that trait.

While it’s mentally healthier to remain rooted in the present, I find it comforting to return to the past now and then to bring those we loved to mind, just for a minute or two. It’s much less shocking to the system than imagining you can actually see them out and about at a local eatery. Which reminds me, I really do need new glasses.

Missing our little guy

A tribute to our youngest, Luke Anthony. It's comforting to know we'll see him again someday.



It’s been 33 years ago today, and I wonder how many of those who came to know him, even a little, remember this date.

He was born July 28, 1977 at Kewanee Public Hospital. Luke Anthony weighed 3.5 pounds, and following a collapsed lung, our youngest was whisked away to the neonatal unit at Peoria’s Saint Francis Hospital. I was allowed a quick look at him through his portable incubator before he was off on his journey. It would be 10 days before I saw our son again.

I don’t believe anyone in our family or circle of friends thought for one minute that Luke would never come home to Kewanee again.

Once the shock, denial and anger at our situation subsided, our little family made the best of a bad situation. Luke had two older brothers and both were under 5, so they weren’t allowed at the hospital. Hubby had to keep working, and as a mom I simply had to be at our son’s cribside as much as possible.

We learned more than we ever wanted to about premature birth, the health consequences, quality of life and much more. Luke was on oxygen, he had shunts put in to drain water off his brain, he had a hernia, and his blood was taken for testing so often the doctors and nurses ran out of places to draw from.

You would think that the world we were living in at that time was a scary and dark place, and in many ways it was. We prayed our hearts out that Luke would come home to live with us, but every setback (and there were many) seemed to say it wasn’t to be.

But the world wasn’t all gloom and doom. Members of the First United Methodist Church quietly stepped in with offers of free babysitting for the boys, money for travel, a new outfit for me—just to lift my spirits, food and prayers. Pastor Phil from Peoria and Pastor Bob from Kewanee visited our home and the hospital regularly.

Now and then I would bring someone along to visit Luke so they could learn how to prepare to enter his special room. No jewelry, lots of hand scrubbing, masks and gowns—that was the routine. There was a brief time when we were taught how to care for our son when he came home, and we were prepared to take on that job, no matter what it took.

The call came in the wee hours of a cold January morning. Everything that could be done for Luke had been done. We were told we had to make a decision, so we prayed and then asked hubby’s brother and wife to be with us and our two pastors on that unforgettable day.

I held our son, Daddy’s arm around us both as Luke passed away. His Uncle Mark and Aunt Debbie drove us home that day, and they, along with other family and friends helped us get through what comes after the loss of a child.

I have a few favorite memories of that time, and I kept daily journals that are tucked away in the attic. The few photos we were allowed to take have darkened over time, but I remember that sweet face. I hope I always will.

If you know someone who has lost a child, whether through illness or some other way, please know that moms and dads most always welcome the chance to talk about their son or daughter. We just need someone to remember, and to listen.

I need to be surrounded by things that inspire me

Sarah Jane in one of her more peaceful poses...makes me realize even Labs slow down and rest once in a while.



“Creativity is a road out of pain—physical and mental misery.” (Stephen King)

Those who know me well know my favorite author is Stephen King. The quote above speaks volumes, and for me it’s true.

King has had plenty of physical and mental misery. He was a drug user for years, he fought mental demons throughout that time, and then he was hit by a wayward van one day as he was taking his daily walk. The accident, as it were, nearly killed the author but he wrote through that pain just as he wrote through psychological pain.

Ray Bradbury is on my list of favorite writers, and one time I read where he surrounds himself in his office with untold numbers of odd items to keep his imagination active and sharp. I’ve not read much of his work lately, but obviously I’ve picked up his idea of loading my foyer office with interesting doodads to help me jumpstart the ol’ brain.

In front of me is a framed picture of a majestic wolf. Its close-set ears are at attention, and the golden eyes seem to see right through me.

Below that is a calendar with 12 pictures of lighthouses. I have lighthouses all over the place, but the photo for January is especially stunning with the sun setting in Fond-Du-Lac, Wisconsin. A few seconds of gazing upon that scene brings peace.

To my left is a wooden, hand-painted foot-high lighthouse given to me by our oldest son on the last Mother’s Day we spent together. It’s never far from eyesight, for many reasons.

A goofy stuffed Bugs Bunny sits near my green banker’s lamp, and an Isabel Bloom figure of friends hugging stands to the right.

A sign with my name on it sits next to a picture of two lions. The sign is from my job as a teller at Union Federal from 1970 to 1972.

I have a miniature version of a three-bulb lamppost sitting close by. There’s a comical story behind that piece that few people know about, and I’m guessing the “shopping” girls will keep that a secret as long as they can.

On the bulletin board to my left are four photos. One is of Cujo, our Saint Bernard mix we adopted from an Arizona animal shelter. Max, our malamute-husky is there too, as is our current pooch Sarah Jane. Our youngest son is the fourth photo, and I haven’t heard him complain that he’s the only human face in the bunch.

When I consider this odd collection, it doesn’t seem like all that much. Then, this morning, hubby asked me, “Do you feel like eyes are watching you?” When I told him no, he pointed out that my five-foot stuffed Sylvester was less than a foot away.

“I guess I’m used to him being here,” I answered, as I swiveled around to stare up at my Christmas present. A swivel to the left and there was Snoopy, smiling, with one paw in a basket full of odds and ends.

The past week has been a challenge, mentally and physically. I’ve written quite a bit about what’s happened so I know that King was right. Creativity, no matter the type, does provide a road out of pain. I’ll take that road, thank you very much, as long as I can bring along what I’ve collected and held close to my heart over the years. I want my imagination alive and well for as long as God allows.

Setting boundaries tough to do

A cold winter's day, a perfect day to be inside where it's warm and cozy. We get more time to think, re-evaluate, and even do some serious soul-searching. For a short while I was editing myself here but after reading a great Joyce Meyer book, I've decided that was a mistake. We simply can't please everyone and it's crazy to even try.


When we’re forced inside during the frigid winter months, we watch far too much TV. There are plenty of newspapers, magazines and books around the house but it’s easier to veg out in front of the idiot box. You can let your mind wander, and most of the time you can catch up with the storyline even if you zone out or leave the room during important moments.

It used to be that summertime gave us a breather from TV. That changed years ago and now we have new shows, series and season finales and returns of old favorites all year long.

If that isn’t enough we also have computers that give us the opportunity to play games, use search engines until our eyeballs fall out, and socialize with people we will never meet if we live to be 150.

It’s easier to interact, if that’s the right word, with fictional characters. No matter how real they seem, we know they’re not. There are no complicated relationship issues because once the show’s over, you go on to the next one.

With social networks we can have a mixture of family and friends, and if that isn’t enough we are free to add friends of friends, who usually turn out to have something in common with us. Seems like most of my “acquaintances” are dog lovers and that’s fine. For the most part, I’ve been very thankful to be a part of the on-line community, especially Facebook.

Still, there are only so many hours in one day. We work some of those hours, run errands, cook, clean, shop and sleep. It takes little effort after all of that to simply plop in a chair, and click the remote or turn on the computer. No one can see what we look like, or gauge the expression on our face to see if we’re angry, sad, amused or uninterested. It’s become a chore to pull ourselves together, dress for the weather and purposely go out to meet up with real people.

I can’t put my finger on it, but for some reason I’m not missing that part of my life as much as I used to. I see real people at all of those other places—work, the stores, around the supper table. Most of the rest I talk to on the phone or over the internet, so it’s not like we don’t keep up with one another’s lives.

Relationship experts might not agree that this is enough. Through the very machines mentioned above, we learn that we’re supposed to gather with family and friends and build our relationships. Talking heads abound, giving us pointers on how to improve our bonds with one another.

I’m reading an inspirational book by Joyce Meyer called, In Pursuit of Peace, 21 ways to conquer anxiety, fear and discontentment. It’s been worth it to cut out other things to learn how to improve relationships with those we come into contact with in the real world. Oddly enough, Meyer notes that it’s important to establish boundaries with the people in our lives, especially to avoid being agitated and disturbed. She went on to say, “Some of the people and circumstances in life that upset us will never change until we establish boundaries and keep them out.”

Wow. I’ll have to think about that one, because even though it sounds like the answer to some problems, doing that will likely create some brand-new ones.

Guess I’ll make some popcorn and put in a movie. This is going to take some more thought.