Feeling Good

I didn't blog yesterday, for the first time in 45 days. I wanted to. I had a couple drafts going, but neither one of them was really speaking to me, and I didn't want them speaking for me. They've both been deleted.

In case you're wondering, one was a writing prompt about how my favorite mystical creature would solve a current sociopolitical problem. I wanted it to be funny, but the only funny part was when I asked My Awesome Husband Greg if Donald Trump could be considered a sociopolitical problem. He said "You're a sociopolitical problem."

I actually did some research for the other one. I found photos of rocket skates and human gyroscopes for a post about things I might want to take up after my lung transplant. I really wasn't feeling that one, either.

Today, however, I came across a writing prompt I thought I could work with--"The Best Feeling in the World."

Of course I can't choose just one, so I'm going to make a list of all my best feelings...

1. Holding a sleeping newborn, its head nestled between your neck shoulder so all you have to do to catch a whiff of perfection is tilt your head just a tiny bit.

2. Spending time with friends when it feels like each of you was created for the sole purpose of making the other feel understood and loved. This can be a large group of friends, a couple, or just one; wine may or may not be part of the good feeling.

3. Having a family, whether you were born into it, or invited. Nothing feels better than knowing that there are people who love you and will stand behind you, no matter what kind of a jerk you might be.

4. Being a child at Christmas. If those days are behind you, then being a part of a child's Christmas, knowing that you can perform magic at least one day out of the year.

5. Making someone smile or laugh, especially when they seem frowny and sad. This works for strangers behind you in the grocery store as much as the people who live in your house.

6. Knowing that Christmas is only two weeks away and you still have a lot to do, but remembering--before panic sets in--that everything that really matters will get done, and everything else will fall into place--like magic.

7. Wishing everyone you see a Merry Christmas and a Happy Holiday Season because you know Christmas isn't the only holiday being celebrated this time of year, and you want to include everyone in your best feelings.

May you all have peace and love and joy, and all of your best feelings--this season, and always!

Today's Birthday

From the News & Record, November 16, 2016...

Your life will be impacted by another, to the extent that you're different for knowing this person. You'll find yourself doing things with her (for her?) like donning a nun's habit and raising a glass just because you're both wearing Converse sneakers.

December and February are your best times to invest. Note--that didn't say anything about money. Investing time and love--in your friends and your family--is something that comes as naturally to you as breathing. You do it every day, not just during the months of brotherly love. And while it may not pay dividends that you can take to the bank, you will be rich in our undying love and gratitude.

January is a chance to even an old score. I don't think you have a vindictive bone in your body, but I'll hold your beer if I need to.

The dividends will be exciting in March. Sounds like someone's going to be getting a shipment of wine!

The wedding will be in May. The wedding of Alcohol and Carousel Rides? Fast Food and Fast Friends? Cheese and Crackers? If I don't get invited, I'm crashing!

Those born under Sagittarius adore you. Hell, everyone adores you--especially this Libran!

And in conclusion, I share this photo stolen from one of your friends who posted it last year on your birthday...

Her caption said that you own whatever room you're in. To me it epitomizes you. I love you, Sue! Let's just celebrate every day!

Happy birthday, my beautiful, amazing friend!

On the Train from Prague: A Guest Blog

This was written by My Awesome Friend Sue Fannin, as she travels around Europe with her husband, Mike...

I'm going to start out by saying that I will not do this story justice.

On the train ride home today from Prague, we sat down in the section (each car has approximately 15 or so sections that can seat 8 and the door can close). There were already two other people in there, a younger guy from Arizona just traveling around and a young woman who didn't speak at all.

After the second stop a very young couple joined us. Both very nicely dressed, her in a pretty lace dress and heels and he had on a suit without a tie. After about 10 minutes the young man in the suit started sweating. Shortly thereafter he sprayed himself with cologne, shortly after that he took off his suit coat, and his shirt was nearly halfway wet with sweat. Within about five more minutes his entire shirt was dripping wet. He stood in the hallway for quite sometime to cool off. I felt so bad for him, ya know, us ladies of a certain age, been there done that! Eventually his girlfriend started getting overheated also, so left to go to the water closet and sprayed herself with cologne also. In my mind they were a young couple in love running away from parents who didn't want them together. The perspiration was nerves. I don't know their story but I do like mine.

The guy from Arizona got off, then the single woman and finally the young couple and Mike and I were alone...for about 4 minutes. Next thing we know four Czech women come in and sit down, they were laughing and enjoying their adventure. They were younger than us but not by much, they were with some teenagers that were spread out in other sections of our car. The ladies didn't speak English and of course to say we aren't fluent in Czech is an understatement. Mike and I are saying hello and trying to communicate, next thing we know the woman sitting next to Mike offers us a drink from her bottle (see picture) and we say no, no. A moment later another woman pulls out 2 shot glasses and they fill them and again offer them to us. Not to appear rude, I took a shot and drank it (Josh Poole, you would have been so proud of me!), man that shit had a kick that burned like crazy. Mike followed suit and next thing we know the women are giving us the bottle as a gift, after refilling it from their water bottle. Mike said that it was Plum Brandy, I don't know about that but the rest of the train ride was great! What a wonderful country!!!


What I take away from this story: (1) Plum Brandy is the universal language of friendship, and (2) sweating profusely causes people to make up stories about you. Thanks, Sue--enjoy the rest of your trip!

The Story of a Friendship as Remembered by Me

We've been friends for nearly 30 years--almost half my lifetime. She's not my oldest friend (three years and three days younger than I am), but she's been a steady and stabilizing influence in my life since I've known her. She makes me want to be a better person.

We met when our children were very young. I liked her immediately. She exuded warmth, and true southern charm. We were at the home of another close friend, and we talked about everything that night as the kids played. Well, some of them played. My son was still a baby on my lap. That evening was probably one of my first ventures back into a social life since he'd been born, and I'm sure my conversational contributions were anything but scintillating. It didn't matter. I felt very comfortable, among friends. I clearly remember feeling that I had made a new friend that night.

We met for lunch when my son was three...I was ready to get out of the house again, and she had a part-time opening in the insurance office where she worked. We talked and ate Chinese food, and she told me I was hired. That was where it really began.

I was her assistant, and I looked forward to the days I would work. We had limitless conversations, and with almost every sentence, we discovered something else we had in common. Crafts and shopping, country music--all music--dancing, books, movies, talking...always the talking. We learned about each others' families and life experiences. We began going places together with our husbands and kids. Everything was fun. We played cards and drank wine. We belonged to the same swim and tennis club, and spent lazy Sunday afternoons beside the pool, watching the kids enjoy the water. We went to the parties together and took trips to the beach, families included.

One day at the pool, we happened to look up at the tennis courts. She said, "You know, they give lessons for adults." So in our mid-thirties, we took up the sport of tennis. It might be more accurate to say that tennis took over our lives. We started together. After one lesson, we signed up for a court--unfortunately, a court which happened to be between two other courts. With no idea of how the game was actually played, with no concern for whether or not there were rules of etiquette, we ran around that court, hitting balls wherever we could, running onto the adjacent courts to retrieve them, laughing and talking the entire time. (Someone may have given us a lesson in court etiquette that day.)

We were very obsessive dedicated "sportsmen." We took lessons, became regular participants in "Ladies' Night," and eventually joined the Gate City league. Given a choice, we were always partners. I played forehand, she played backhand. We said that it felt like sleeping on our own sides of the bed.

We had much in common, yet there were some differences. She is level-headed and clear-thinking, organized, comfortable in any social situation. I am the opposite of all those things. Keeping score in tennis was always a challenge for me (although I liked to joke that, because of my ADD, I not only knew the score of the game I was playing, but the scores on the courts on either side of me as well). One day, we were playing a Gate City match at another club. For some reason, the game was interrupted during a tie-breaker, and when we picked up again, I was the one who remembered the score; I was certain of it.

I am rarely certain of anything, but when I am, I will get ugly defending my correctness...

A player on the other team disagreed with me, so I argued with her. She had the audacity to argue back. Both of us seemed to think that whoever argued the loudest would win. Embarrassed, my friend finally said, "All right now, let's calm down." The player on the other team immediately turned on her, fake-drawling "Oh, you sweet southern thang!" (Did I mention that our opponent was a Yankee, like me?)

I really don't remember how the game ended; I'm sure it would be safe to say we lost. But we have laughed together over the "sweet Southern thang" line for years.

Looking back, it's hard for me to wrap my head around the changes that have occurred in both of our lives. I'm thankful that my memories are still there for me to take out and enjoy. Hopefully, we will make more memories together. We are both grandmothers now. Thirty years ago, I don't think we could have imagined that this day would come.

Today is her birthday. This post is my way of telling her how much she means to me, because I'm afraid I've been guilty of taking this treasured friendship for granted over the years. I've always known she was there for me, and I hope she knows that I will always be there for her. I like to think that if she needed anything, I'd somehow be able to provide it for her. Today is her birthday, and in a few days, it will be mine. I hope we can celebrate together with lunch and a glass of wine.

Happy birthday, Leslie. I love you forever!

Thanks Given--Check

For morning sun washing the day with golden light--check.

For hot coffee enjoyed in bed while My Awesome Husband Greg took his morning run--check.

For birds singing when I opened the door to let the cat in--check.

For just enough time before company arrived to dust, set the table, shower and fix hair--check.

For Awesome Greg working his butt off in the kitchen prepping vegetables and getting out all the serving bowls. Also, Awesome Greg sweeping and vacuuming the entire house yesterday and standing in line at Honey Baked Ham (for ham) and J&S Cafeteria for pies--check, check and check.

For my brother, Mark deep-frying a turkey, and his wife, Kris, making stuffing and French onion casserole, then transporting their bounty--and their daughter, Tori, with her dog, Charlie--from Mocksville to join us--check.

For my daughter, Meagan, making mashed potatoes and green bean casserole and bringing her Joe and Charlie and Banjo and George to share the day--check.

For my son, Dominic, his girlfriend, Gigi (who made corn bread and mulled cider), and their friend, Rudy, being able to be part of our day--check.

For a new friend, Mark, and his son, Landon, bringing even more fun--and someone for Charlie to play with--check.

For my Gottliebs--Jason, Jordyn and Taylor--being with us because it wouldn't be the same without them--check.

And, finally, for Taylor sharing one of her most special gifts: Mashed Potato Man--check.

It has been another wonderful Thanksgiving, filled with people and food and fun. I miss those who weren't with us, but hope that they had a Thanksgiving that was as "all that" as ours was. I wish the same for all of my friends.

I have given thanks, and pray that I will continue, always, to be grateful for all that I have. Amen.

Oh, wait--I almost forgot! For plenty of wine, and at the end of the day, Charlie crowning me "The Queen of Disaster"--check.

Happy Thanksgiving every day!

The Color Sad

Yesterday, my friend, Lynne,had to say goodbye to Annie. Annie was the malnourished, hairless, mostly toothless little dog she'd rescued from a shelter eight years earlier, against any odds of her ever being more than an emotional and financial drain for Lynne. But Lynne has a heart that's bigger than herself, and there, Annie was transformed. She healed, and stepped into a life that any dog would envy. It is hard to imagine how my friend can hold the sadness she is feeling now.

My cousin lost her best friend yesterday. I haven't spoken with her, other than her brief note saying that she is grief-stricken. Too much pain.

Many of my friends have lost love ones since last Thanksgiving, and all of us will be missing family members as we sit down to dinner and give thanks next Thursday. Plenty of heartache.

I would rather the heartache be mine. There is nothing noble in that. I just know that I can come through pain. I know how to feel it and give into it until it exhausts itself and leaves. That is not to say that I have not appreciated every single gesture of love and kindness that I have received in my losses. Those gestures are what make me know that I can endure. It's just that when I'm the one who's suffering, I know how I'm doing. I know I'll be okay.

When my friends are suffering, it's harder. I become desperate to take away their pain, and yet there is nothing I can do. It hurts to watch them hurting. The color of sadness tints everything.

I pray for my friends, and hope they find some comfort in knowing that they are not sad alone.


My nephew, Alex Wagner, gets credit for the photo above, taken at Davison, Michigan, November 21, 2015.

A Story About A Story

This was told to me by a friend. He had read my blog yesterday about James Thurber and his backward limericks, and it made him remember a poem he had read in high school. He was not a big fan of poetry, but this one had made a mark on him. It was about two gold prospectors in the Yukon, one of whom was dying. He asked his companion to cremate him so he could feel warm again. My friend couldn't remember the name of the poem--it was "The Cremation of...," and he wondered if I remembered it, or would know how to find it.

He went on to say that when he was stationed in Korea in 1978, he pulled duty on a frigid night with an old Master Sergeant from West Virgina. Staring into the fire and buzzed on coffee, my friend told the Sergeant what he remembered about the poem. The old southerner, in his country voice, recited the poem from start to finish.

I did not remember reading the poem, but then I was not much for poetry in high school, either. Now, though, I was intrigued. The Internet let me type "The Cremation of" before the screen filled with options for "The Cremation of Sam McGee," by Robert W. Service.

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was the night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Fifteen stanzas in all, its haunting verse literally made me shiver.

Things have a way of working themselves into stories, and I'm glad I heard this one today. Thank you, my friend, for asking me to help you find your poem.

Remembering Janet

They never said blogging would be easy. Sometimes it is, but this one is hard to write. It's about my friend Janet. We didn't get a chance to be friends very long, but in the six months I knew her, I came to feel like she was my sister. I guess bonds are formed quickly when you know you don't have much time.

Janet with my "borrowed babies,"--her granddaughters--Taylor and Jordyn, November 2002

When I met Janet, she was living in Greensboro, but traveling back and forth to New York for her cancer treatments. What struck me first was her fierceness. She told me that when I offered to take care of Taylor while her mommy and daddy were at work, she thought I was trying to take her place as grandmother. Thankfully, I got her to see that I was only looking for someone to play with. It was Taylor who got us together to paint ceramics, because we both liked to paint, and we both loved her. Good call, Taylor.

Janet loved her family and her friends, and she made me feel welcome in whatever group she was in. She beamed one day when I told her that Taylor had said, "But, Kate, you are family, because I'm used to you." Janet made me love her, and she made me want desperately for her to get better so Jordyn could also grow to know this courageous, funny, creative grandma.

I only know young Janet from her stories. I know she did not have an easy life, but she was happy. She loved her life, and she was not ready to leave. She reminded me of Taylor when Mommy or Daddy would come to pick her up while she was still playing. "I'm not ready to go yet," she would wail. Well, Janet was still playing, and she was definitely not ready to go.

Today would be Janet's 64th birthday. She died 13 years ago, when Jordyn was only a few months old, but she still speaks to me through her emails. It's all there in her messages--her fears, her anger, her love and her hopes. She made me laugh at her stories; like the time she woke up in the middle of the night and cut lips out of a rubber stamp because she wanted to use them on a frog she was painting. She had no memory of having done it the next day, but the evidence was there. Actually, Janet made me laugh a lot. We had fun.



I think this picture of Janet and her son, Jason, must have been taken in the late 1970's. I wish I had known her then, when we had years of living ahead of us. I can only be thankful for the short time that I knew her.

Happy Birthday, Janet. Be at peace, my friend.

Lynne

This picture of my friend, Lynne, and me was taken last summer when we traveled back to Michigan for our 45th high school reunion. (My Awesome Husband Greg took the picture, as you can see if you look carefully at the reflection in Lynne's sunglasses.) It was the first Lapeer High reunion that Lynne had attended, and the first time I had seen her in about forty years.

Lynne was one of my closest friends in high school, and in a lot of ways, my counterpart. Seeing her in the hotel the day before the reunion opened a floodgate of memories. All of the hours spent on the phone trying to figure out why boys--specific boys and boys in general--were not asking us out. The rainy Sunday afternoon we spent driving in and out of the gas station where a certain "person of interest" was working. (It's hard to imagine what he thought of those two girls who couldn't seem to decide if they needed gas or not.) And later, holding each others' hair back as we spewed forth the effects of an afternoon spent drinking Manhattans from iced tea glasses.

After several years of getting reacquainted on facebook, the adult Lynne felt as much a part of my soul as the teenaged Lynne had been. How wonderful it was, then, to hear her voice on the phone, sounding exactly as I remembered, and then to see her walking toward us down the hall as Greg and I went to meet her for drinks at the hotel bar. All of those sayings you hear about friends...no matter how long it's been...blah, blah, blah...time is not relevant? Well, they're true. We are both different now, of course. We've learned to handle our liquor, and know that it's safest to stick with beer and wine. We no longer need attention from boys to know that we are Truly Wonderful Women. But those shared memories of what made us friends in high school are part of what will keep us friends forever.

And, thanks to modern technology, although Lynne lives in Mississippi and I live in North Carolina, we get together a couple times a week to watch our favorite television shows--Dancing With The Stars, The Voice and Project Runway. I don't have a smart phone, but I have a Kindle Fire, and I know how to use it. Funny how often we are in complete in agreement on who should go home and who should move on to the next round. Life is good, and it just keeps on getting better.

Aimee

This is Aimee, with her son, Mark, and his son, Joshua, in 2011.



This is for my friend Aimee. I only know Aimee through facebook. She is the mother of my son's friend, Mark.

One year ago today, Mark's life ended.

I went to Mark's funeral, but was unable to bring myself to speak to his mother that day. Her pain surrounded her like a veil -- as did her friends and her family -- and I didn't want to intrude.

Dominic hadn't seen Mark for a couple of years, but several days before he died, he stopped by. I wish I had given him a hug. Mark was my friend on facebook. His timeline is still available, and on it, I can read the most beautiful prayers and reflections that Aimee has written. Through reading those words -- words that come straight from a mother's heart -- I feel that I know her.

I know I am going to meet her soon. I will give her the biggest hug, and I may cry.

Aimee is so much more than her pain, though. As hard as it is to imagine that one can ever find a way to smile or feel joy after losing her child so tragically, Aimee is a joyful person. She has a wonderful, bizarre sense of humor, which, I can now see, her son inherited from her.

I can see from photographs what a beautiful woman Aimee is, but without ever seeing a picture, I would see her beauty in the things she writes and shares.

I am thinking of Mark today, of course, but mostly I am thinking of my friend.

Mark

Mark Lockamy in 2010 at Pilot Mountain (from his facebook page)

A life has ended. My son's friend, Mark. We were awakened shortly before midnight by the telephone. Another friend, Paco, was calling with the news. He said Mark had jumped from a parking deck downtown. Mark was 25 years old.

I saw him three nights ago when he came by to see Dj. They were just leaving to get something to eat when I got home. I told him it was good to see him. It was.

Mark hadn't been around much lately, but I always used to enjoy his visits. When his son, Joshua, was young, Mark would bring him by sometimes to visit. I loved seeing him play with his little boy.

Now Joshua doesn't have his dad. My heart is broken for Mark's family -- his mother, his sister, his grandmother. I don't know them, and I can only imagine the pain they are in tonight.

I don't know what to do with this. I can't sleep. I can't read. I can't pray. (But I can cry.)

I don't understand and I want to go back in time...

Bookend

"The Intimate Book Group," l-r: Frances Moore, Mary Elizabeth Keister and Marilyn Brenneman, May 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

Today, I attended a Celebration of Life. A very long life. A life well lived. My friend, Mary Elizabeth Keister, was 99 years old when she died earlier this month.

Mary Elizabeth and I were the "bookends" of our little reading group -- the last two members living in Greensboro. We had been a group of four. Four friends who enjoyed referring to ourselves as the "Intimate Book Group" (The Book Group, June 23, 2009). Frances Moore died in 2009 (Remembering Frances, September 17, 2009), and Marilyn Brenneman moved to Colorado a year later to be with her daughter.

Although Mary Elizabeth's eyesight didn't allow her to read even large-print books in her last years, she had such a vast knowledge of, and love for, literature, that she would never be at a loss in any discussion of books and authors. (4/20 -- If Yesterday Was Your Birthday, April 20, 2009).

In fact, I'm sure Mary Elizabeth never found herself at a loss in any conversation.

Although I've know her for years, because my friend was such a humble person, and because she always graciously accommodated my propensity to ramble on about books I've read -- well, about everything -- I never really grasped the scope of her contribution to the world. I read her brief biography on the back of the program today with a lump in my throat, realizing how privileged I'd been that she had considered me a friend. (Oh, to think that sometimes I would have preferred to stay in bed on a Saturday morning -- what I would have missed!)

Dr. (I don't think I was even aware of her title) Keister had a love of children, beginning with her baby sister, that led her to several degrees and a career in child welfare, preschool education and improving programs at women's colleges throughout the world, taking her to India, Rome (with the United Nations), Nigeria, Afghanistan, to name a few places.

She never married or had children of her own, but loved and influenced her 11 nieces and nephews, one of whom spoke so lovingly about her Aunt "Bubba" today, it made my heart ache.

I will always regret that the last time Mary Elizabeth and I got together for McDonald's cinnamon rolls (a guilty pleasure that we only indulged at our monthly get-togethers), coffee and conversation a few months ago was the last time I saw her. She went into hospice care several weeks later, and I learned of her passing the day I called to make arrangements to visit her. I had downloaded "Little Bee" on my Kindle, and was planning to read it to her. That book will serve as my reminder to never put off doing a kindness for someone. Mary Elizabeth never would have.

Bookends no more. I exchanged e-mail messages with Marilyn earlier today, and it seems that we both feel the same way...Our Intimate Book Group was so special, we can't imagine getting involved with other groups. We were special, and I am so thankful for the time we had to be together. And now I am just a single bookend.

Remembering Frances...

The Members of the "Intimate Book Group:" Frances Moore, Mary Elizabeth Kiester and Marilyn Brenneman, May 2009. (And of course, me.)


I remember many things about my friend, Frances...

I remember the day I met her. It was a rainy afternoon in April. I now know that the year was 1996, one year after her beloved Sam had passed away. I was the neighbor-to-neighbor volunteer that spring, collecting for the American Heart Association. I got very few responses to those little form letters you send out with the self-addressed, stamped envelopes. But one came back with a personal note..."Please come for a visit..." and a telephone number. It never ocurred to me not to call.

The note turned out to be from my neighbor across the street...Frances Moore -- a neighbor I had yet to meet, although our family had moved into the neighborhood five years earlier.

Although it would have been a short walk, I drove my car that day because it was raining...

I cannot tell you about my first impression of Frances without using the word "twinkly." The woman absolutely twinkled as she introduced herself and welcomed me into her home. I love telling how, upon finding out that I was teaching the 8th grade catechism class at our church, this retired 7th-8th grade English teacher clapsed her hands over her heart and said, "Oh, that is such a wonderful age!" Seriously -- she meant it! I knew then that she was, without a doubt, one of the best teachers that ever walked the halls of Guilford Middle School, and I was sad that she had retired before either of my children could have had her.

Something else I remember about that day is the James Thurber edition on her coffee table...

I was just coming off of a Thurber "binge." (That's how Frances described the times she had felt compelled to read everything a particular author has written.) Upon seeing her book, I told her how much I had enjoyed reading Thurber -- and things that had been written about him. That's how we discovered the bond that would cement our friendship for 13 years...Not just that we both loved James Thurber, but that we shared a passion for reading and authors, period!

I remember some of the wonderful authors I've read -- and fallen in love with -- simply because Frances suggested them -- John Ehle, Clyde Edgerton, Fred Chapel, Jan Karon, Tim McLaren. And I remember a few that we actually met in person...

Reynolds Price. We went together to see him speak at the main library downtown, and another time at Barnes & Noble. What an experience it must have been to have him as a teacher of writing...That strong, resonant voice...It was hard to believe that its owner was confined to a wheelchair!

Robert Morgan. Barnes & Noble again. A small group on a warm autumn afternoon. He read from his book, Gap Creek. He signed our copies, and impressed us as a perfect southern gentleman.

John Berendt. Remember Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil? This is one of my favorite France memories...

Berendt was speaking at Greensboro College, and Frances thought it would be nice to bring her friend, Emily, to see him, too. So I drove these two lovely ladies -- with their walkers in the trunk of my car -- downtown, found a place to park, and managed to get all of us into our seats before Mr. Berendt began his talk. Which was wonderful. He was very handsome, and an entertaining speaker.

At the end of the session, it was announced that the author would be signing copies of his book in another building on another part of the campus. Frances was concerned that she and Emily would have difficulty maneuvering their walkers across campus, and we knew the chances of my finding another parking place before everyone went home for dinner were pretty slim. As we were discussing our options, I saw Mr. Berendt come from behind the curtain and begin speaking with someone at the side of the stage.

Now this is not the type of thing I'm usually comfortable doing, but with Frances prompting me, I approached this rather intimidating fellow -- a New York Times best-selling author -- and explained that I was there with two friends with walkers, and, well, I'm sure he could see the difficulty...Would he mind just signing our books right then and there? He'd be making three ladies (two of them with walkers, remember) very happy, and he'd be saving us a lot of aggravation in the bargain!

I must say that although he obliged, he seemed a little tight-lipped as he looked over my shoulder; I felt properly chastised for being so bold. But when I turned around to find my friends...Gone -- both of them! I'm sure Mr. Berendt was thinking, C'mon, Lady -- Imaginary friends I can understand -- but both of them with walkers?! (I later found Frances and Emily -- and their walkers -- coming out of the restroom.)

I remember how I used to love visiting Frances at her house across the street. Oh, it was always a pleasure to visit Frances, even after she had moved into an assisted-living facility. She was ever the gracious hostess, and she always made me feel like she had nothing more important to do than to make me feel special. (And I know I'm not the only one who felt that way in her presence.)

The wonderful thing about visiting Frances across the street, though, was walking up her long driveway...It seemed like her house was a mile from the road, and that she had a magical forest for a front yard! I'm not exaggerating when I say I felt like Hansel and Gretel must have felt when they started out on their walk through the woods -- but without their apprehension. In this fairy tale, the creature who lived in the house at the end of the road was not a wicked witch, but a beautiful angel with a huge heart!

Oh, I remember so many more things about Frances. I am so thankful for all of those wonderful memories, as well as for the memories that her children, her friends and some of the students whom she loved so much shared at her funeral.

It's been just a month since Frances Askue Moore died. The last time I saw her, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, assuring me that she didn't need a thing...She was just "resting," she was fine. "Good-bye, Darling," she said. "I love you."

I love you, too, Frances. And I treasure all the things around my house that remind me of you...your birdfeeder, my angel pin, a green ceramic vase, some jelly glasses, the tiny cloisonne box from the Smithsonian. Our Intimate Book Group will continue to meet, and we know that you'll be with us whenever we do!

"Butterfly," August 24, 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

September 14 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

Peyton Virginia Wilson, August 2009 (LRDC)

..If today is your birthday (Well, yesterday, actually -- I'm late!), you are a very special little girl, and I love you!

...If today is your birthday, I remember the very first day that Daddy dropped you off at my house so I could watch you while he and Mommy went to work. You were so quiet, but you never cried.

...If today is your birthday, I remember the first time I picked you up to hold you...You wrapped your arms around my neck and gave me a really good hug. I've always loved your hugs, my Peyton!

...If today is your birthday, you've delighted our whole family with your funny little ways. You made me fear for your life the way you insisted on running everywhere, when you could barely walk! (I joked that there should be a Peyton-sized hole in the door at the end of the kitchen because you never stopped running until you hit something.)

...If today is your birthday, I've been amazed at the quickness of your mind and your passion for learning and trying new things. "Brilliant" is the word that comes to mind.

...If today is your birthday, I sometimes long for those days when I would get to keep you all day long, knowing when I said goodbye in the afternoon, that I'd be seeing you again the next morning. But...

...If today is your birthday, you're five years old now, and you have a baby brother and you go to school and I go to work...I'm just so very glad that I still get to see you and your wonderful family once in a while!

...If today is your birthday, I'm sorry this message is late, but...


HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR PEYTON!

WE LOVE YOU AND HOPE YOU HAD A WONDERFUL DAY!

September 11 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

...If today is your birthday...



...and you have a brother who turned five on his birthday in May...




...then this blog is for both of you!

...If today is your birthday, etc., you are those boys who live next door to me, and whom I've had the honor -- and delight -- of taking care of from time to time while your mom and dad had to work.

...If today is your birthday...you are two of the most awesome kids I know -- for your cuteness. your brilliance and your ability to make me laugh and shake my head in amazement (and amusement). I'm so very glad to know you!

...If today is your birthday...it makes me happy just to know that you're over there having adventures for your mom to blog about! I love seeing her pictures of you on facebook, and I love running into you sometimes when you're playing outside.

...If today is your birthday...I know there will be enough cake and fun for both of you -- and Mom and Dad and your three (!) dogs, too. I just want to say "Hi Pie!" to both of you...


HAVE A WONDERFUL, FUN-FILLED DAY!

(Photos of Keenan and Kieran Rayfield, July 2009, my LRDC)

September 8...If Today is Your Birthday...

...If today is your birthday, surprise! Your birthday isn't until Septemter 10! Gotcha! (I guess.)
*Note added Sept. 9, 2009

Picture of a Picture...Gina Abruzzo Gourley and Meagan Fischer Kopp, circa 1981, Metamora Michigan


...If today is your birthday, I was simply going to post this photo on facebook, but then I thought What the heck...I haven't done a blog lately...

...If today is your birthday, I had some great memories of you and your family rekindled this weekend as we watched old videotapes of Meagan's early years. (You know, anticipating what her baby might look like when she gets here?) And there you were, running back and forth in a little pink velour jumpsuit, looking so cute. I hope you still have that jumpsuit!

...If today is your birthday, I'll never forget the day before you were born, driving over bumpy dirt roads with your mom and dad, trying to induce her labor. (Did I mention that Meagan was driving?)


*Well, I guess it must have been TWO days before...Whatever!


...If today is your birthday, I hope that lots of fun things will happen to you and for you!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GINA -- HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!

If Your Birthday is This Week...

...If your birthday falls with this last week of July, this Blog's for you!

...If you had a birthday this week, then you are either the daughter of a friend or a friend of my daughter -- or both -- and I just wanted to say:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY -- I'M SO VERY GLAD YOU'RE HERE!



Liz Abruzzo, Lapeer, Michigan, July 28, (Liz's photo)



Kira Krapcho, High Point, NC, July 28 (Kira's photo)



Kimberly Craven, New York City -- July 25 (Kim's photo)



I HOPE YOU ALL HAD WONDERFUL BIRTHDAYS! KEEP ON CELEBRATING!


(Note: As you can possibly tell from the date on this post, I had every intention of "publishing" it on Sunday, but Life got in the way!)

The "Book" Group...

"The Intimate Book Group," l-r: Frances Moore, Mary Elizabeth Kiester and Marilyn Brenneman, May 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

Well, I've blogged about books a time or two, and I know I've mentioned my "book group" at least three times -- on each of these ladies' birthdays. This October will mark 20 years since I first attended the book discussion group at the Southwest branch of our library. That branch no longer exists, and Marilyn and I are the only two remaining members of the original group. But since first, Frances, then Mary Elizabeth joined us, and since we stopped meeting at the library and began meeting at one another's homes (probably more than ten years ago), we truly have become an intimate book group...

We're a book group where it doesn't even matter if you've read the book; there'll be plenty of other things to discuss. (Sometimes so much so that we barely have time to mention what we've read!)

We're a book group where, even if you don't like what you've read, you'll love the snacks. And you'll never leave hungry!

We're a book group where, if you happen to walk past the door of the little sitting room where we now gather, you'll be asked if you'd care to join us -- and we don't even care if you can read!

Truly, this group has become so much more than a book discussion group, it's hard to describe. And hard to believe how long we've been getting together -- mostly once a month (Occasionally we go a bit longer, if someone can't meet -- We rarely get together without full membership present!) -- to talk about books, families, trips, joys, troubles, recipes -- sometimes even politics and religion!

I love reading, I love books (and I have plenty of them that I haven't read!) and I really, really love these ladies! Together they are one of the blessings in my life for which I am most grateful!

6/3 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

...If today is your birthday, you have a close-knit (pun intended) group of friends who are wishing you the very best kind of day. See...?

[Some of] The Moa Boas: Hilda, Julie, Leslie and Helen, November 2008

Carol, Dec. 2009




...and don't forget this one!





...If today is your birthday, you also have one kind-of-crazy-but-not-in-a-scary-way friend, who is also sending you her heartfelt good wishes...

Kate, Nov. 2009

(Her head may be screwed on a little funny, but her heart's in the right place.)






...If today is your birthday, you are one of that priviliged group of friends who have proclaimed themselves "The Moa Boas," and seem not to care what anyone thinks!



...If today is your birthday, we couldn't have possibly been friends for as long as the calendar says we have -- we look waaaaaaaaay too young to be that old! Oh well...



...If today is your birthday, years don't matter as long as you have friends -- And I'm so happy to be one of yours!

Happy Birthday, Julie!

You deserve a completely wonderful birthday --

Enjoy your day!

5/31 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

...If today is your birthday, believe me when I say that I have had an absolute ball going through old photographs, trying to find this specific one!

*

Jane Abruzzo and Kate Fischer, circa 1980, modeling their $9.00 After-the-Prom Sale dresses. (To give credit where credit is due, I lifted the quotes from my Anne Traintor "2009 Engagement Calendar.)

*

...If today is your birthday, you and Tony were such a huge part of Greg's and my Early Years that, no matter how infrequently we see each other now, we will always think of you as The Best Friends!

*

...If today is your birthday, there were not too many life-changing events that the four of us did not share; that much is evident from the ones we apparently considered "photo ops." (Okay, so we weren't at each others' weddings, but that's about it...For everything that followed, we were there!) In fact...

*

...If today is your birthday, Our Memorable Moments With the Abruzzos would be a pretty sizable volume...if only my memory were better! (Don't worry...I wasn't going to blog about everything, anyway!)

*

...If today is your birthday, what I do remember well -- and still love -- is your wonderful laugh! (We must have been very funny back then, because I can remember a lot of laughing!) Of course one of my favorite "Jane's Laugh" events was the day before you had Gina...Do you remember Meagan sitting on Greg's lap, driving all over Dryden's washboard trails, hoping to induce your labor? (I know it didn't happen until many hours later, but that was some pretty productive laughing you did that day!)

*

...If today is your birthday, as I'm reliving the past, I realize that what I wrote earlier about being privy to all of each others' "life-changing events" was unequivocally true -- I can think of absolutely nothing that was fun or sad or exciting or uneventful or dangerous or exciting or scary or boring or uplifiting or fulfilling or -- well, whatever -- without thinking of you! You were such a big part of it all, that I can't believe I've survived our fateful separation -- which was pretty life-changing in itself! (I can remember that at the time, I wasn't really sure that I would survive!)

*

...If today is your birthday, of course survive we did...and even went on to create some more memorable, significant (and unsignificant) events...Remember that first time we came home -- unannounced -- to visit, and enlisted Bev to help us sneak up into your bedroom while you were showing off Brand-New-Baby Liz in your basement. (Alas, my failing memory doesn't let me recall why you were keeping her in the basement. Oh well...) It seems like Greg, Meagan and I were stuck there, giggling in excited anticipation of being dis-covered, for hours before Bev finally persuaded you to give her a tour of The Townhouse! (And Liz, if you're reading this, that's what I remember of the first time I ever laid eyes on you...You were only weeks old, yet they still let me hold you!)

*

...If today is your birthday, I almost can't believe I'm brazen enough to dump a "Birthday Blog" on you, when I haven't even sent you a card in years! But I am so looking forward to another trip to Michigan in the coming months, and I just wanted you to remember, too...before we get together to share some more Moments -- and laughter -- Please let there be lots of that, too!

Happy Birthday, Jane!

We'll Love you Forever!