Archive for the ‘Memoir’ Category

Prescott Girls - can you tell we're sisters?

July is Family Reunion month, but we don’t have to wait for a special occasion to celebrate those cherished memories. Family photos are everywhere in my house. Boxes of prints and hundreds of slides reside in my drawers and closets. Now that I’ve graduated to digital, computer files populate my hard drive. Polished and posed for special events  – graduations, weddings, and baptisms family and friends return my gaze in my personal gallery along with lop sided grins and bunny ears at family gatherings. Candid moments and orchestrated tableaus tell the stories of my life. How wonderful to be able to revisit what was then with the perspective of who we are now. Happy travels…

I like to buy postcards when I travel, whether it’s other parts of the world, or just a mile away from my house! I choose postcards because of the photography (which I could never capture myself) and the emotion the postcard evokes in me. And don’t discount the fact that postcards have a very small writing area. This is a good thing for people who say they never know what to write. Just the fact that you take the time to write a couple of lines about the weather and the fun time you are having means a great deal to your recipient. If you are having a “staycation” close to home, a postcard is a very personal way to connect with family and friends. Go ahead; send a postcard showing off beautiful downtown Main Street USA. Let’s keep in touch…

Let Freedom Ring

July is all about freedom. From the obvious celebrating our country’s independence with 4^th of July festivities to the obscure Social Wellness observance and including the borderline ridiculous National Drive-Thru Day. It’s all about recognizing the beauty of our glorious options and opportunities to change. The freedom to stop and stick our toes in a stream, river, ocean, or under a sprinkler attached to the garden hose. The freedom to smile at our reflection in the mirror (which is all about Social Wellness) and to know we have the gumption to follow our dreams. The freedom to choose our Authentic Selves.

July comes smack dab in the middle of everything. The middle of the year and the middle of the summer. We’re at a tipping point for all sorts of options. Is it time to re-evaluate or goals? On the other hand, is it time to celebrate being alive and seize the opportunity to play when it presents itself.  

When the calendar page turns to July for children, if they bother to notice the calendar at all, it may mean summer camp, trips to the beach/lake/mountains, or days filled with sweet unstructured hours. As adults, July may mean mid-year reviews/quarterly reports to be completed before a long anticipated family vacation. The freedom to be a family united in their quest to navigate a new hiking trail and tell the best ghost story around the campfire.

Our family vacations were more like Sunday afternoon outings because farmers with animals always have morning and evening chores. We were fortunate enough to have a boat and live in the Midwest where there is lots of water for the boat. My childhood summer memories are full of fried chicken picnics, feeling the mud squishing between my toes, splashing in the shallow water, fighting with my brothers about whose turn it was with the inner tube, feeling the wind in my hair when Daddy “opened her up” and drove the boat fast when we went around the lake. I also remember the smell of Noxzema and suffering with red arms, backs, and legs after many of those outings.

If your July plans keep you close to home, there’s still plenty of creative ways you can claim the freedom to choose to be your Authentic Self. Take a tall glass of your favorite ice-cold summer drink and a blanket out to the back yard. Lie down and do some serious cloud watching. Your whole body is allowed the freedom to down shift and relax as you observe the white wisps consolidate into dogs, bunnies, flowers, faces, even dinosaurs. Now that you’re in the back yard, are you thinking about the garden you meant to plant? You can still go to the garden center and pick up all the elements necessary to plant a beautiful flowerpot in no time at all! Want to get away from it all for an afternoon? Escape into a movie with lavish landscapes and gorgeous costumes, or visit an exotic art exhibit. Try your hand at pottery painting at a do-it-yourself pottery shop. Discover the soaring experience of flying with an introductory flying lesson. Take a bike ride and feel like you are 10 years old again. Watch the sun go down and wait for the fireflies to come out. Pick up a brand new notebook, some magic markers, or colored pencils, find a shady spot and write about your favorite summer vacation. It doesn’t matter if it’s a vacation you’ve already experienced, or one you plan to someday. Write about it right now. Relive the experience, or anticipate the adventure. Let freedom ring…

They say February is for lovers. So focus your love close to home. February is Boost Your Self-Esteem Month. Boost your self-esteem with demonstrations of self-love because you are most deserving of your own attention for affection. Consider observing boosting your self-esteem; not just as a temporary indulgence on Valentine’s Day, but as a way of life. Don’t wait for a special occasion to wear your favorite pair of earrings. Put on make-up in the morning even if your reflection in the mirror is the only face you’ll see all day. Give yourself permission to indulge in a special chocolate treat, splurge on a favorite meal, soak in the tub with lots of scented bubbles and a new paperback, or eat popcorn for dinner and watch a movie on a weeknight (no, don’t fold laundry and empty the dishwasher – sit down and watch the whole thing without multi-tasking).

Writing a journal entry about a specific accomplishment or milestone is a major self-esteem booster. I’ll share one that has been seven years in the making. I have volunteered for several years for The San Francisco Writers Conference (www.SFWriters.org), a prestigious 3-day conference and the brainchild of legendary agents Elizabeth Pomada and Michael Larsen. It features blockbuster keynote speakers, award winning workshop presenters, and attendees in the hundreds from all over the world. The first year my comfort level only allowed me to babysit the purses in the Volunteer lounge. This year, I was invited to chair the “Book Doctor Panel.”

Mary counseling a writer at SFWC

This is a conference-long marathon event where attendees spend five minutes one-on-one with Independent Editors. I am no longer content to relegate myself to the shadows. As the Book Doctor Coordinator, I claimed my position as a professional sharing my expertise with eager attendees, and as a peer with other writers awash in the wealth of knowledge shared at the conference.

Successful writers confident in their literary skills intimidate me. Many speakers and workshop presenters over the weekend impressed me. I made up my mind to show up in my life and go after my dreams rather than stay in safe situations. This year, instead of  wishing I were brave enough to be like the speakers and presenters, I sat up front, engaged with them during their talks, gave them positive feedback, and asked for advice. Do you know what they did? They gave me advice and thanked me for showing up!

Let’s all keep showing up!

This week my husband and I celebrated our 37th wedding anniversary. Oh, how young we were!

Ross and Mary in 1972

But look at us now! We’ve survived so much. Losing two jobs because the companies folded resulted in two major moves. Thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I think we’ve thrived because of it. We’ve travelled and seen so much:  Hawaii, London, Paris, Rome, Venice, and Florence. We’ve been blessed to live in three beautiful parts of the world:  Minnesota, Colorado and now California. We’ve left a little piece of our hearts in each of them. Creating life anew and starting over has been challenging and exhiliarating.  Comparing, contrasting and constructing a new routine made our little family unit more appreciative of the little things that were familiar as well as delighting in new discoveries.

We went out to dinner and had a good time, but what I savored more than the wonderful meal was spending time with my life’s companion talking about our time together. Laughing about how it was the hottest June they’d had in Rome for over a decade the summer we visited. Or the time the cab driver in Paris pushed the car to get it started while we sat bewildered in the back seat not understanding what was going on. More recent trips were up and down the 5 visiting our daughter in college. I think we just barely spent equal amounts of time with her as we did on the road! Thankfully, we ‘ve had each other for those long trips and for all the trips in our foreseeable future.

Happy Anniversary for everyone celebrating milestones. Savor the moment now!

While at Target recently I was picking up notebooks at the back-to-school sale, and the scene made me think of a black and white photo of my brothers and me heading back to school in 1960. Standing among harried mothers clutching their school supply lists and children choosing between the playful dolphin or the neon pink Barbie embossed notebook, I knew we’d never been given those choices for any school supplies.

Allen, Gale and Mary Fall 1960

We attended a small parochial school run by Franciscan Nuns whose brown habits covered every inch of their body, except for their hands and faces. We only saw their long slender fingers and faces framed in starched white wimples. No matter what the Midwestern weather, they were always calm and collected under all that wool fabric. Classrooms and teacher were at a premium, so I spent five out of my eight years at Sacred Heart Elementary School in the same classroom with my older brother. Back then school supplies didn’t get more high tech than a mechanical pencil. Kids today may be required to do not only research on a computer, but also turn in a document in Microsoft Word format and hot off the printer. And with all the texting and e-mails, our younger generation feels they don’t have to learn spelling or grammar. As long as the message is received and understood, they are satisfied. Well, I am not. That’s not an adequate method of communication and it’s up to us as adults to set a better example.

I love language. I love how words comfort and soothe, excite and ignite, invite and entice. Children’s literacy appears to be a priority, but when Story Hour consists of popping a DVD into the computer and sitting the child down in front of the monitor I feel sad for both the child and adult involved. I grew up in a little farming town, but I knew the world through books and reading. And I learned to love writing. Writing in my journal has been a safe place to vent, a confidant, and where I work out my problems. Writing in my journal helped me to cope with challenges as catastrophic as being diagnosed with breast cancer, to the annoyance of developing an allergy to fragrance at the advanced age of 50.

“Wow!” a young boy in a green t-shirt and baggy shorts commented on all the notebooks in my cart. “How many kids do you have?”

“Actually,” I smiled as his mom looked up from the pile of red notebooks in her hand, “these notebooks are for ladies like your mom. I like to have lots of them on hand to offer to the ladies who come to my Creativity and Simple Abundance Close-to-Home workshops. They use them for class notes, or as a place to record their thoughts, hopes and dreams. I like to use them as journals and sometimes I decorate the covers with collages, colorful papers, fabric or even paint.”

“Oh, cool,” said the soon-to-be 3rd grader.

“Interesting,” said the woman who recognized she was being acknowledged as her own person rather than a busy wife and mother of 4 children less than 10 years-of-age.

“Way cool,” I said as we finished selecting our notebooks and headed for the check-out.

Last week a visit to my Midwestern roots included stops to reminisce with family and friends – living and deceased. Wandering aroud Sacred Heart Cemetary, where generations of my family are buried, on a beautiful summer day full of sunshine and fresh air I felt a sense of connection. My father’s gravesite is in the shade of a beautiful oak and I envision him napping the way he used to on Sunday afternoons. My grandmother, aunts and cousins are comparing recipies and preparing enoromus feasts along with elaborate handi-crafts with colorful yarns, fabrics, needle and thread. Going out to admire the new buldings my brother built on the family farm filled me with a sense of awe at how he has brought the homestead into the 21st Century while maintining the footprint of the family farm we grew up with. Our father’s old International truck was the first vehicle he parked in the latest multi-purpose building. Still standing is the little Pump House where we’d bring the milk to keep cool until the milk man came by to pick up the milk cans. It was also the half way point on my tractor driving route during hay baling. Ordinarily, I wasn’t needed to drive tractor since I had two brothers more than willing and capable of doing the driving. But everyone is needed for some kind of a job when it comes to getting the hay bales out of the field and into the barn. Stacking the heavy bales on the hay wagon was not something I was tall enough to accomplish. But, I was tall enough to reach the pedals of the Ford tractor and that’s how driving the tractor became my job. The Ford pulled the cable holding the hay rack clamped full of hay bales up into the hay loft in the barn. I backed the Ford from the barn, across the width of the yard, carefully avoiding the Pump House, and stopping just shy of the back door of the house. I never managed to get the hang of the clutch, so it was never a smooth ride. But I didn’t run into the Pump House, nor did I hit the house – although I frightened Mother a few times.

Pump House on family farm

Growing up in a small farming community way back in the 50’s when the internet and science fiction and there were only three networks, going to the Mower County Fair was grand entertainment. My brothers, sisters and cousins loved the Midway rides and always gave me a hard time because I wasn’t game enough to go on anything wilder than the Merry-Go-Round. Of course, they would go on everything, walking like drunken sailors when they emerged from the Tilt-A-Whirl. We all enjoyed the Tom Thumb doughnuts hot out of the grease from the travelling carnival booth. And we never missed getting malt served by the Dairy Princess at the Dairy building. Or to at least gaze at her likeness carved in butter. That does take a specific kind of talent to take a block of butter and shape it into the face of a small town beauty. But I my favorite display of creativity was the 4H exhibits – especially the Clothing & Textiles. Tissue paper, pins, needles and thread along with intuition of color choice and choosing just the right fabric for the design came together with prize winning results. Butterick, Simplicity, McCalls, even Vogue patterns were brought to life in simple garments by aspiring seamstresses to more involved and complicated ensembles expertly executed by accomplished artesian. My older cousin won a blue ribbon one year for the dress and coat she made for a special division called Make it with Wool. It was worthy of a Marlo Thomas That Girl costume.

While I had no illusions about making anything so grand (Miss Lowe gave me a D in the sewing section of Home Economics class), I knew that one day I’d make something beautiful too. And I have. I’ve made lots of beautiful somethings. I’ve sewn everything from curtains to costumes and lots of clothing in between.

Now when folks are talking about ways to economize, sewing has become popular again. I think it is inspiring and exhilarating to be able to express yourself with a needle and thread. Starting simple and small with a pillow or curtain is a great beginning. Who knows, maybe I’ll see something of yours at the fair.

Summer is a favorite time of year for families to gather for reunions and as a child I remember attending the annual Underwood picnic in Blooming Prairie. Aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews and various friends who became adopted family gathered in the church basement to trade stories and eat a covered dish lunch. The church basement was always clammy with the humid summer air even when you stood in front of the one oscillating fan in the place. Little kids with red Kool-Aid lips gave grandmas and great aunties big sticky kisses at the urging of laughing mothers.

Aunt Betty, Little Mary and Uncle Dick

didn’t put in enough of the flavor packets. But it did us no good to say it needed sugar, there was no sugar to put in! They remembered the cream for the coffee, but no one used sugar.  That was before the days of sugar substitutes so no Equal or Splenda either.  Obviously, we survived and can laugh about it now – the year we had colored water at the picnic!

Little Mary and Marilyn - Lake Hanska Bathing Beauties

Nebraska, the boat came to the farm to be part of our summer entertainment. Since I didn’t have the responsibilities of the maintenance of a boat motor, nor the upkeep of painting and varnishing a wooden boat, I have very fond memories of great times on the water in that boat. I also have fond memories of splashing around in the water with my older cousins. Marilyn was the only daughter of Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Veronica. She had a wonderful laugh, a generous nature and very sweet to her little cousin. I can almost feel the sun on my back and the water lapping against the black inner tube when I look at this picture.  -