A Man of Many Hats

Who is this 'Man of Many Hats'?   It is my dear husband of 54 years who has gone to be with our Lord Jesus.  The pain of his loss is indescribable. As the tears come and go, memories flood my heart and mind.  What I know to be true, that I will never see him again, touch him, hold him, just seems too hard to comprehend.     Such a loving husband, father, grandfather and friend. 

Since the closing of our gallery and beginning semi-retirement in our home, there was very little that we didn't do together.  He had his own interests, enjoyed taking a walk down the road every day, still planted some tomatoes and vegetables, was about to start a new wood carving, still did some picture framing for some of our old customers, and read Reader's Digest and his bible almost every day.  He loved the old cowboy movies, especially John Wayne, and rarely missed The Price Is Right, Wheel of Fortune, and Jeopardy.  He liked the Indians, and never gave up on the Cavs and Browns.  He was really good at watching several shows at a time, changing channels during most commercials.  Often, he went to sleep with the control in his hands.  

He always embraced those things that I did involving my music and art as well.  He enjoyed our trips to the Adirondacks and Blue Mountain Lake perhaps more than anything else these last few years.  We always came home with great photos to share with everyone since he usually had his camera in hand.  

 Mushrooming had always been his most favorite pastime, but found it too difficult to get through wooded terrain these last years.  Even so, the last two years he has been in better health than the years before, and often told friends how he was having a couple 'good' years when asked how he was. 

I will surely miss him as will our children and grandchildren, but we all have been enriched by the years that we have had him.  His life has been a fine example of how to live, love and be loved.  We have been separated - at least for a while- but one day will again be together. 

                                          A MAN OF MANY HATS  - That's What He Was

                   Able to do whatever the task, Willing to do whatever was asked,

                   For his wife - as a husband, For his daughter, for his son,

                   For grandchildren, for friends, His love saw no end.

                   He wore as a young man, the hat of a farmer,

                   As he woke early to head down the lane,

                   How many cows must he have milked

                   Before the school bus came?

                    He knew what it was like to lift a bale,
                    And with his asthma, suffered pain.

                    But that was his job,

                    So he didn't complain.

                     As a teen, with camera in hand,

                     His creativity took root,

                     He double exposed everything in sight.

                     He baked cakes - and decorated them, too.

                    

                      When the walnut tree on the farm came down,

                      He made good use of it.

                      He put on the hat of a woodworker,

                      And used that wood, bit by bit.

                    

                      After dating Lois in high school,

                      His hat as a welder went on.

                      Then after waiting 4 years of her college,

                      The hat of a husband was donned.

                       Six months later, with a new house almost built,

                       The hat of a soldier he had to wear.

                        But this he wore proudly, at home and abroad,

                        For his country he truly cared.

                        Best of all, was his hat of faith,

                        Worn through his hours of trials,

                        This he wears now as a halo of faith

                         As he walks with the Lord through heavenly miles.    

90 Degrees and Rising

Here I sit, on a day in the 90's,
Remembering the cool days of Spring.
When breezes carried the aroma of flowers,
And promised to end winter's sting.

The humming of fans, herald summer's hot days,
As the fiery sun heats with its blaze.
Thirsty plants long for a long summer's rain,
And ponds evaporate into haze.

I wonder about animals we watched in the winter,
What sanctuary have they found?
Where is a cool spot in all of this heat-
The thicket, the pine grove, a hole in the ground?

The deer we've befriended, stay out of sight.
We see rabbits and chipmunks, but that's about all.
Guess they're waiting for a break in the weather
Hopefully, long before it is fall.

But the wrens I watch - feeding little ones now,
Don't seem to mind the heat of the day,
In a little house with no shade at all,
They feed their young, no heed to pay.

What a marvelous God designed such a world,
With love such as His, we can't despair. 

Trusting in the Lord (and wonderful doctors)

Just another day this month in a hospital with my husband, Ken.   Seems most of July, and thus far, about half of August, have been making appointments and travelling from one doctor and hospital to another.  Finally, today is the surgery that it has all led up to.  Even though it's out-patient, you never seem to shake the uneasiness that comes with surrendering to the doctors and their expertise.  We're at a very fine hospital - University Hospital in Cleveland, Ohio.  Some of our apprehension about this day was releaved by our church family on Sunday, and again last evening with a visit and prayers with our wonderful pastors.   God seems to have travelled here with us, and the wonderful doctors, nurses, and staff help it all go much easier.

Thoughts of My Mother on Mother's Day

There have been many blessed mothers throughout history.  But none can compare to my mother who is just with us now in our memories.  She was named Dolly by her parents, as she was just a wee, tiny baby.  At birth in her parents home, she was not crying - even breathing.  The doctor who delivered her just wrapped her in a newspaper and made no effort to get her breathing started.  But her father and grandma refused to give up on her survival, unwrapping her and gently tossing her back and forth between them.  And then, suddenly she caught her breath and began to cry.  Wow!  I guess if they had given up, my brother, sister and I would never have come into this world. 

Even though they named her Dolly at the time, she came to be known as Dorothy, and didn't discover her real name until she needed to find her birth records when she married my dad.  Her childhood years were not happy ones. When she was in the fourth grade at Fourth Street School in Salem, her mother became very ill and passed away.  Her father was quite a nature lover, so took her fishing and also on turtle-hunting expeditions where she held burlap bags to hold the snappers when he pulled them from their hiding places along the banks of the creeks. Turtles scrambled every direction, but she got them into her bag.   Turtle soup was enjoyed quite often along with fried potatoes from their old coal cooking stove.  These were happy days, but he would also take her on the trolley which ran along Route 62 into Salem, where he drank and she would have to find her way back home alone on the trolley.  When he did return home he would be uncontrollable, and broke her mother's dishes.  She was able to save her mother's most valued carnival glass bowl which was displayed in our china cabinet, and she cherished forever the above photo of her with her mother.  We have no other photos of her mother.

  Due to such episodes when her father drank, she lived with her older sister and her rather large family for awhile, then was taken in by a family who loved and cared for her like their own daughters.  She lived with them until she was married in their garden.  They had a greenhouse and had horses.  That's where she developed such a love for horses and flowers.  She never went beyond junior high since there was never enough money for books she would have to buy, but she was a good reader and one would never guess she was not highly educated. 

Life for her and my dad were no easy ones as they were married and had my brother and I during the recession years.  But she really knew how to make all kinds of soup, baked all our bread, made the most delicious pies, cream puffs, cookies and cakes, jams from berries we gathered, and through the years canned (and later froze) innumerable fruits and vegetables - even meat.  She didn't have a clothes dryer for many years, so hung things out to dry in our back yard.  They always smelled so fresh and good.  

She loved music, and had learned to play the piano (by ear).  She used to tell us how much she wanted to take piano lessons when she lived at her sister's house.  The girls there had a teacher who came to their house to teach them piano, but all she could do was listen to what they did, so she never learned to read music, but was able to play 'by ear'.  One of her favorite songs to play was 'When the Clouds Roll By'.  She was determined that her children would somehow get music lessons and, somehow, found the money to give me piano lessons which lasted from my first grade year through highschool.  My sister, Bonnie, took some piano lessons, but excelled in voice, so she started her on voice lessons.  My brother had drums, but gave that up - also played the 'jews harp', and loved to dance.  So, her love of music came into our lives and has remained with us.  

She nursed us with the best of care, and eventually cared for my father until he passed away.  At 71, she decided to join her church choir, still not able to read music very well, but it was such a joy for her.  

We never had a lot of money, but somehow, mother always had a little bit saved for buying that prom or special occasion dress.  For years  she sewed each of us an Easter outfit, often staying up all night the night before Easter to get the outfit for someone finished.  At Christmas time,  I probably had 2 dolls in all my childhood years, but she made such beautiful outfits for those 2 dolls as my Christmas gifts.  I still have the dolls, and the outfits she made for them.  One of them is entirely hand-stitched because she had had rheumatic fever and wasn't allowed out of bed, so, not being able to use her old treadle machine, she stitched it by hand. 

The memories go on and on, and I will probably add to this post as time goes on for my children and grandchildren so they will not forget her.  I will also add the poem I wrote for her funeral. 

Harbinger of Spring

Well, March is finally here, and, even though we can still expect some blustery weather,  it gives one a good, warm feeling to know that very soon spring will be here.  Believe it or not, my husband was taking his daily walk a couple of weeks ago, and was pleasantly surprised to see 30 - 40 robins.   Living in northeast Ohio, that's pretty early to see robins.  There are still some bushes with lots of red berries that they seem to enjoy.  It's for sure, there wouldn't be many worms for them just yet.    It was just about that time that I did the robin above with my digital computer program. Thought I would share it with you. 

Now, we're watching for more signs of spring - that is, besides the potholes in the roads!!!   We're getting more rain than snow now, so the grass is greening in places, and, of course, the Canada geese have honked their way back to the neighbors' ponds. 



                                                                       Signs of Spring



Singing birds arriving each day,

Icicles melting, snow going away,

Girgling streams, flowing swiftly along,

Nimble bunnies waking renewed and strong.

Showers and thunder wake us at night,

Out of the ground, bulbs pop into sight,

Frosty days, just every now and then,

Such a reminder of the winter that's been!

Priceless is each day we live,

Regardless, complaints we give,

It seems we wish our days away,

Naturally,  wishing for a sunnier day.

Great is each day, God has given us,

LET  US THANKFUL BE!!!

                                                                    

Another New Year - Does It Seem Possible?????

 

My husband, Ken, and I marvel that the years seem to pass by faster every year.  As we both approach our 76th years,  we have so much less to do each day, but the days still seem to go so fast.  On these cold January days, I guess it's good that they go fast, although the cold gives us different things to think about.  The birds need fed and the sidewalk needs shoveled.  Christmas is over, so the decorations have to be taken down and put away.  We make our bread in our handy, dandy bread machine a couple times a week, and have developed a schedule of our favorite TV game shows - and football games.  Santa brought us a nice Chinese Checker game to enjoy this year, and we're trying to follow the One Year Bible again this year, too . 


So, there's lots to keep us busy, but perhaps one of the things we enjoy the most costs not a penny.  That's watching the edge of our thicket very carefully about 5:30 every day.  That's when 5 deer visit regularly, coming gingerly and watchfully our of the underbrush, nibbling on grass as they make their way to our big oak tree.  Here they forage for the acorns for an evening snack.  Soon they glide across the road and disappear beyond the neighbor's house.  When snow is on the ground, we can tell by their tell-tale tracks that they come back during the night, sometimes venturing close to our house.  Mixed with the bunny tracks, they treat the snowy yard like a huge canvas, etching out their movements that the sun will eventually erase.