Stories of Love

 

This is how we started, young and determined.

I've been thinking about "tapestries of life" this morning, it sounds much more articulate than scrap-booking. A weaver begins with a vision, a pattern, and thread by thread interlaces the colors to create the design, but a writer relies on words, words spoken from the heart.

1Corinthians 13:8.  LOVE never ends. LOVE is like the wind, it never subsides.  Without this LOVE that is patient and kind, like a mother’s love for her child, we have nothing.

When I searched my blog for the word of the month, Love, I found over a dozen previous stories that expressed love in words and pictures. Looking back I smiled, realizing that my life was filled with a tapestry of rich and royal hues (thank you Carole King).

Remember these from a grade school autograph book:

* Roses are red, Violets are blue, Pansies are lovely, just like you.

*Roses are red, Violets are blue, You have a nose like a B-52.

*You are 2 sweet
                2 be
                4 gotten

It has been seven years since I reflected on those grade school years and childhood love...Wardogs Pieces of Memories

It seems impossible to think of grade school days without seeing my mother in my life. She was there for every moment and now I cherish those simple days and acts of love I never recognized. As a PTA President off and on for decades my mother involved herself in every party, and Valentine's was a favorite. 

Somewhere in her 40's and 50's she found time to reflect and take college classes. She loved learning. How ironic that as I searched for words and thoughts about weaving and tapestry I found a poem by Corrie ten Boom, an author and woman my mother respected for her acts of love in saving Jewish people from the Nazi's in World War II.

"Life is but a Weaving"  

My life is but a weaving

Between my God and me.

I cannot choose the colors

He weaveth steadily. 

   by Corrie ten Boom         

I've been so fortunate to have family, friends, students, author's words, musicians, and acquaintances pass through my life.

 

"Love and time are the only two things in this world that cannot be bought, only spent."  --Gary Jennings

 

On. that fall morning in the parking lot outside the hospital, Sue reached in her trunk to pull out a basket of scrape booking materials. "Would you like some help with the basket?" I asked.  

"No, I'm fine today. Thank you." With a heavy breathe she continued, "I may not feel this good after the treatment today. The days get really long for me."  

My heart took a double beat with her heavy sigh. Here she was smiling and looking at the sunlight. With a joyous expression on her face and a glisten in her eyes, she looked around at the hospital complex, of concrete, bricks, and asphalt, and then the sky. "I love living. I love life Letty. I don't want to die."

I Love Living Sue's story will linger in my heart forever.

 

I can't resist a great love story. Dave Isay collected stories from Story Corp and published "All There Is." I cried and laughed as I read this book. Here is why...

The stories of love cover the ages, cultures, and circumstances of love. You can read about Hunny Reiken, 80, who talks with her husband Elliot Reiken, 86. Hunny speaks:  "I have a twin sister, Bunny.  And you have a twin brother, Danny.  When we met we were sixteen and a half, and we were waitresses in a hotel.  You and Danny were musicians in a band." The story of the two sets of twins marrying the same day brings a smile to the readers face but it is Hunny's reflection I like best, "When two people get married, they say two people become one.  No, I don't agree.  Two people should remain two people and walk side by side.  I've not become Elliot.  Elliot has not become Hunny.  We remain Hunny and Elliot.  And to me, that's important." Elliot responds, "You made my life complete.  And I hope we'll go on for another fifty years."  Hunny, "I'll take five good ones.  Five good ones, and I'll say, 'Thank you, God!'"

Love Stories and Story Corp

Jack and I began our marriage with three preteens, a lot of love in our hearts, and a small house . Michael, Katy, and Matthew are grown, gone from home, healthy, and busy with their lives. Love, devotion, support of each other, consistency, and adventures together as a family kept our love alive and provided a home for our children. 

We are now two, and a dog, always a dog. Before Murphy Doodle, there was Lucy, and before Lucy there was Woofer. We loved them and they loved us. However, Lucy is the only one who has sent me a Valentine card. Puppy Dog LOVE

Happy Valentine's to all and may love lift your spirits today.

In Company with Family 2021

  How did it get to be late so soon?

It's night before its afternoon.

December is here before it's June.

My goodness how the time has flown.

How did it get so late so soon?

Dr. Suess  

Thanks to all the women and men in the health community who worked tirelessly to save lives, so families and friends could once again be together for the holidays in 2021. 

Our spring began as fall ended with yard clean up, rains, and damaging hail storms. Jack fell down and rather than break his crown he busted his ribs, and we discovered the rush of adrenaline when 911 is called for a loved one. 

By June and two vaccines we felt our feet on the ground and moving along with life, slower than the years before but moving ahead. Murphy entered our lives on May 1 and we felt younger and laughed harder than we have in years. 

The beauty of this puppy is that he MUST walk daily or we end up playing ball for hours on end toward evening, when all we really want to do is sit and read, or sit and watch television. So, Jack walks him every morning that the weather allows. No rain since October and warm temperatures have kept Jack walking and getting in better shape than before.  So much to be thankful for, and so much more fun than a nagging wife. I walk the afternoon shift when Murphy is slightly worn down, but I'm not as faithful as Jack.  

Letty, Katy, Shaun, and Two Bit; Isaac, Ann, Mike and Jack 

 In August our sons arranged for a family gathering at a vacation rental home on Lake Eufaula, Oklahoma. It was the first time all three of our children and their families gathered together with us in several years, and they were happy. They laughed together and at each other, they fished, told stories, stayed up late and had fun. Our hearts were filled with thanks to God that we had built a strong blended family. Mike, Ann, and son Isaac live in Dodgeville, Wisconsin. Katy and Shaun Bledsoe live in Oklahoma City with our two grand dogs, Two Bit, and Hope. We love Hope. Matthew divides his time between New York City and South Florida.  They are each healthy, happy, and have terrific careers. 

Letty, Katy, Matthew, Isaac, Ann, Mike, and Jack

In January Mike celebrated his 50th birthday, and in September Katy celebrated her 50th birthday. She and Shaun traveled to Savannah, Georgia to make it memorable. She succeeded in twisting her ankle in the sand....and making it memorable.  

Matt will celebrate that number in 2023. 

On our way to Mineral Point and Dodgeville, Wisconsin we stopped to spend the night in Omaha with our niece Jennifer Gatlin and her family.  The house was filled with love, children, teens, four adult nieces, husbands, two dogs, and one uncle and aunt. When the Watt family gathers there is always food and fun, and her charcuterie board was a delicious treat. Grilled burgers and hot dogs reminded us of years long ago when we gathered at grandma's place.   

How do you explain how meeting your adult nieces when you remember them as tiny babies? They are wives and mothers now; artists, career women, and wonderful women who make the word a better place to live. 

We drove east and north the next day and watched the warm sun turn to gray, cloudy skies that spewed snow on us for the next four days. A Wisconsin winter blast. 

The next day we arrived in Mineral Point, Wisconsin and stayed at a boutique hotel, The Mineral Point Hotel, in 1857 as the William Lanyon Building and on the National Register of Historic Places.  The black and white flocked wall paper brought back memories of the old Country Club's elegance.

Mike, Ann, and Isaac joined us the first night for a cold snowy stroll around the quaint town and then enjoyed a delicious meal at their favorite restaurant, Popolo, and everybody else's favorite because the next night we wanted to eat there but the waiting list was too long.

Jack and I awoke each morning and walked to either the Cafe 43 or the Red Rooster for a yummy breakfast.  The kids, who live up the road in Dodgeville, joined us for most meals and shopping in the arts district. One night we ate at the Midway Grill at the Bowling Alley, located mid-way between Mineral Point and Dodgeville. We had so much fun making memories, thank you Mike and Isaac for throwing the ball backwards and creating an uproar of activity for the bowling alley.  

Home Again, Home Again, jiggery jig...

Thanksgiving was quiet and thoughtful. Jack and I cooked a full meal that we shared with my sister, Jonya, and her husband Bill. But Jack's birthday the 28 of November was anything but quiet.  

We invited neighbors and family for a come and go birthday celebration and of course, no pictures. We spent hours sharing stories, eating, and opening gifts. It's always fun to put names with faces when meeting friends and families.

Murphy didn't get his own Christmas tree, but he managed to keep us to small pencil tree with decorations starting up over the swishing tail line to protect the red bulbs. 

  

I turned 70 again for the fourth time. Each birthday gets sweeter.

Joan invited me to play golf on my fourth 70th birthday to celebrate the day and date. How to dress for 70 degrees in December in Oklahoma was a conundrum. 

Thanks friends for all of your love and support this year.  

We will end the old and begin the new with our large family "Dirty Santa" on January 1.  

How did it get late, so soon?

PS. If you have already received this story please excuse my mistake, but I think the April Fool Monkey jumped on my posting. 

I am closing the door on 2021...

Opening our eyes to 2022..

A Penny for Your Thoughts

Standing at the check out counter at Braum's with my fresh veggies for the evening and a small container of Chocolate Chip Ice Cream for dessert, the woman cashier placed the products in my recycle bag, turned to the register and spoke in a solemn voice, "That's $8.02."

I handed her a ten dollar bill. 

"Do you have two cents?" Her voice didn't change, only a toneless request.

Immediately, I dug around in my purse then replied, "No." Taking in a casual breath I added, "I have a penny." I proudly showed my penny as proof.

The young pale woman stared through me, her face blank of all expression. How sad, I thought as I studied her face and lack of any kind of movement in her body gestures. At last my fumbling fingers found a penny, two pennies in my purse.  I handed her the $10 and two pennies.  

I remained fixed on this woman's face as she placed the bill in the register and counted out my change. Still no expression, no life in her body. 

I reached for the bills as she handed them to me, then in a whisper I asked, "May I give you a tip?" 

She nodded like I guess.

I gave her the change back and a bill in my purse. She almost smiled as she stuffed the money in a tiny pocket in her jeans. 

My heart pounded with agony to see someone so empty.

In the car I sat thinking about her. Had Covid caused such pain in her life, or had her life been filled with pain, fear, anger? Probably all of those my heart replied.

My stomach began to roll. I needed a malt, and here I sat in Braum's parking lot unable to move.  A tear rolled down my face as I backed out of the parking lot begging my mind to think of something else. Please

My mind did as I asked, it prowled my recesses for answers, for prayers, for humor, for words. In the swirling motion of a child playing with Sparklers my brain called out, "cents." 

"Cents?" I asked myself and the answer came back "sense." Heading west on Main into a blazing setting sun I pondered sense. Yes, I have sense, more than two senses. Ha, I laughed at myself, and felt better. 

Gabbing to myself as I sat in traffic I thought, "Yes, and I have good sense. My stomach sensed anxiety; Feeling the setting sun on my skin brings warmth; My taste buds delight when I go to Braum's for the flavors and taste of cold ice cream. The teacher brain wasn't helping.

Then my car pulled into an eclectic gift shop called "In Your Dreams."  Why? 

My brain smiled. Following my footsteps I walked around the shop until I smelled the perfumed hand lotions and spays. I needed to smell the sweetness. I needed to feel the cool lotion on my body, to heal my ache for this woman. 

My brain knew all along (as did Maslow ) that this woman who haunted me needs hugs, kind warm sincere hugs. She needs love and assurance that she is a good person. She needs money, and probably stable food and shelter. She has needs that I have never experienced.

I walked out that day feeling blessed but with a hole in my heart. There will be another day for me to buy ice cream at Braum's. I will be alert to others needs before I put my needs first. My air hugs will be in the form of thoughtful prayers for all  women in her shoes. I will be a better person because everyone's life matters, and I can help. I will carry cash in my pocket and a kind word for whomever helps me.

Our minister recently said in church, "Love does no wrong to a neighbor." She is my neighbor. It is a small world. 

A Butterfly in the Cosmos

We are like butterflies that flutter for a day

 and think it is forever. 

Carl Sagan

After nearly three months of deconstructing the flooring, adding new 18" tile, new carpet in three rooms, new bathroom counter top and painting the hallways, we created a new refreshing home where the sun radiates warmth from East to West. In the midst of this chaos we took time to gaze upon a moment, to show gratefulness for this opportunity of construction, to smile and give thanks for being here at this time, at this place, with these people we love. A simple delight like a butterfly examining my hand refreshes our souls and creates an energy that can uplift each of us in special ways. For this I am thankful.

For creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through LOVE.  C.Sagan

Walking in the fields on North Base with our Lucy dog offers us a tiny speck of the immensity of our earth, that often looks so flat.  The skies are criss-crossed on clear winter days with contrails from the jets, and for that we are filled with gratitude that we stand where we do and see God's beauty through space. A tiny dandelion grows in the middle of the jogging path, the only flower to be found in a sea of grasses. When do I ever say thanks for that bright yellow weed, except on a winter's day?   Gracias

 

Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never were. But without it we go nowhere.  C.Sagan

Perhaps this is where Frodo may have lived? Behind "tiny doors" who can tell. Look around, you might be amazed to find a tiny door opening your mind to the world.  Kansha (Japanese) 

Most of the people I deal with are human, so I've had a lot of experience with that. C. Sagan

One cold windy day not long ago I played golf  in The Trails Club Championship with my friends.  It was so cold we laughed at ourselves for being out there. When we reminded each other that a truly blustery north wind would soon arrive we played even faster which caused even more laughter, because my tight warm winter pants began to stretch and slide down my hips.  The faster we played, the faster I found myself hiking my now very loose fitting pants before I could take a step, before I could swing, before I could putt, before I could step out of the bunker I had to jump up and hike up my pants. Now that is not a lady like way to play golf, but oh so funny. We laughed so hard that day that we paid very little attention to the stress of a club championship.

Being only human on this tiny speck of dust, standing with my pants gathering around my ankles I never worried about my swing, or hurting my back. On that day I won the Club Championship at age 70. We all cheered with laughter for finishing the round before the bitter winds swept through, and I turned my eyes to heaven and said thank you. In my heart I gave thanks to my parents who worked so hard to raise the woman I am today. Daily I give thanks to all of the people who are a part of my life.  S'gi (Cherokee)

Look at that dot. '  That's home. That's us...every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there--on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.  C.Sagan

It is the sunbeam I appreciate from day to day. Even when I cannot see it, I know it is there. 

"Go raibh maith agat" Irish for "May you have goodness."

In Love's Embrace

She died peacefully and drifted toward heaven in a chorus of Hallelujah.

She blessed the world with her music, her smile, and her humble graciousness, and we all felt blessed.

How do we remember her—by personal memories.

Mom was a mother hen, and she liked nothing better than to have all of her little chickens close by her side. She always wanted to know where we were, who we were with, and when we’d be home. When we were teenagers and came home late she would usually be in bed. As we passed her room we had to say our numerical order. Being the second born, I simply answered, ‘Two.’ Then went on to bed.  Mom couldn’t sleep until she knew we all home.

Summer break before my junior year of college I came to stay with Grandma for a week in June. As is customary in Oklahoma a huge storm came through. Sitting with Grandma on the sofa in her living room we were watching the news as the sky turn a greenish hue. Hail started to pound down from the sky and a tornado warnings went into effect. Pretty soon we could hear the storm sirens ringing outside of the house. On the TV they listed the neighborhoods that should take shelter and sure enough, we were in one of the area directly in the storm’s path. Being from the north I was ready to grab a mattresses and go for cover in the bathtub.  As the newscaster again listed the areas that should seek shelter immediately, I turned to Grandma and asked what she normal did at this point. She just smiled at me, and said in her lovely melodic voice “Oh, well I normally change the channel at this point”. 

My Grandma Watt was very wise.   

That chocolate is best served at breakfast with coffee.  

That green beans taste better with bacon grease.

That music can start a conversation.  

And defects, no matter how big or small they may be, can become a part of HOW you do something not WHY you do not.

My favorite Grandma memory comes from when I was living with them. If you got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and took too much time, by the time you returned to your room, it would not be unusual to find your clothes folded and your bed made! 

 My memories are from the little corner shelving wedged above the kitchen bar where she kept little trinkets and CANDY! She would reach up on the shelves and magically find CANDY for any child by her side.    

    

Mostly, I loved to hear her sing Amazing Grace and Rugged Cross when she and Papa Watt played in the Golden Okies Band.

Alleen always insisted on paying her way, whether to Braums, Red Lobster, or Sonic. None of her children would take her money, but we learned to say, "Thank you for offering." 

In the end, I will hear her voice say, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

I feel sure that those were her last words, too.  She told me time and time again that if she ever quit talking she would die. She made doctors and nurses chuckle when they tried to take her vitals, because she chatted continually. I’m sure that on that Sunday when a stroke stole her ability to speak, she had reached her frail hand up to touch the young aide who had pushed her to the dining room, and said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

I'm Angry

Our Father, who art in Heaven...

I'm Angry.
It's not my nature to be angry, but I sometimes yell at the dog.
I'm Angry at Dementia, and the way it eats through our lives.

Hallowed be thy name.

Her eyes once so full of sparkle are now dulled by Dementia's presence.  Her smile questions who she is, where she is, and why, why, why.

The nightmares seem so real.  The fears send her joy filled songs of life into a vault that time occasionally opens. 

Thy Kingdom Come,

It's never quiet in her mind.  Her early years sustain her.  
She smiles at each and every person who passes through her day.  She listens to their stories, and shares her own.  She makes the world a better place everyday.

Thy Will be Done,
On earth as it is in Heaven.

Why, why, why.  "I'm old. My brother and sisters are all gone. Albert died.  The shingles hurt so badly. Why? Why did I have to live this long? ......Those big men from Pond Creek came into my room last night and drank their liquor. They're mean. They scared me. I couldn't sleep."   

Give us this day our daily bread, 

I kiss her head, rub her hands, and hold her when I can.  We cry.  "They are gone.  They are not there.  Your room is safe. Jack won't let anything happen to you."
              "But Jack's dead." She sways and cries. 
"No, No. Jack is fine.  Jack makes everything safe for you.  He was here this morning.  Take a breath and sing your favorite song, then you will remember that Jack is still alive."  

     So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross
     Till my trophies at last I lay down
     I will cling to the old rugged Cross
     And exchange it some day for a Crown.

Slowly a smile emerges, her head lifts upward, and her eyes make contact.


Forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us.

I beam with the pride of a child's mother when a friend sits beside her. Stepping away, I listen as they recall a better day.

Sitting on her walker Georgia slapped her knees, "Didn't we have fun when Bob Wills came to town?  I could dance all night long. Didn't we have fun?"

  "Absolutely.  He came to town twice, you know.  One time I played my guitar on stage right beside him.  My papa thought I was the best guitar player he'd ever heard.  My papa was so proud of me."

  "I think Bob Wills thought you were pretty good too, or he wouldn't have asked you to play."  Georgia slapped her knees and taped her feet.  "Look there," she pointed to her feet. "That's all they do now, is tap.  These feet could dance all night long.  I could out twirl any woman in the barn, and now look at me."

The story, like a music box, wound down and quiet overtook the space.

Lead us Not into temptation
But Deliver us from evil,

She is frail. She fell. She broke her hip.  
She told the nurses in the ER that they needed to cancel her music program at the VA that day.  She didn't think she could play.  The nurses fell in love with her. 

For thine is the kingdom,
and the power, and the glory,
forever and ever. 

She is determined.

Amen.  

Bits and Pieces

Yesterday, March 25 would have been my mother's (Helen Weaver Stapp) 99th birthday and my Aunt Marge's (Marjorie King Weaver) 91st  birthday.  They were two strong women who raised six fearless headstrong children during the 50's and 60's.  My mother and Marge both met their husbands during World War II.  Marge was a SPAR stationed in Seattle, Washington where Uncle Tom was stationed.  Mother was working at Boeing in Wichita in the library and proudly wrote to her friends that they built the famous B-29 there.

Mother in the white dress in Aunt Della's apt. The Pigeon's Nest.

This photo brings back delightful childhood memories for me as it was taken in my Aunt Sissie's "Pigeon's Nest Loft."  The roof loft was on the 4th floor of  my grandmother's boarding house on North Broadway in Wichita.  She is the smiling mother-in-law to be sitting on the far right.  Aunt Sissie (Della) is on the floor on the left and my favorite character in this picture is Murphy Doodle, the one who appears to be standing under the flower pot with the greenery streaming down.

In one of the letters that I found of my mother's the note read:  Johnie is everything I could wish for in a man. They were married May 25, 1946 in Las Vegas at the Little Chapel of the West.  On July 30, 1983 Jack and I married in the same church, a small brown wooden structure filled with charm.

In another letter my mother wrote to her cousin Ethel, "Tom asked me last January to write to you and thank you for the fruit cake.  He said it was swell, but that he was no good at writing.  He doesn't write to us often but I have surprising news.  He got married last week.  The girl is a Coast Guard SPAR.  He met her in Seattle about two years ago and must have fallen hard.  Tom never had but about two girl friends in his life."

Tom's wife, Marge, with baby number two, Dana, in Independence, KS at the Country Club. 

 Love is in the air and my heart just giggles when I think of these great memories. 

  

The Way We Were

For Valentines Day I went searching for the words to tell the story and instead found the pictures that tell the story.  Hidden underneath this first photo I had tucked away this quote.  There is a destiny that makes us brothers.  None goes his way alone,  All we send into the life of others comes back into our own.

The beginning of a great partnership and love affair.

The sparkle of love is still in our eyes.

This is how we started, young and determined.