Connections with the Past: Grandma's Cupboard

When I was about four years old I would often go to my grandma's log house to visit. I remember a few things, the cocker spaniel, the willow trees, my grandpa's auto shop, the green wringer washer, the garden, and grandma's stand-alone white kitchen cupboard. It had frosted glass cupboard doors, a pull out counter, and a pull-out flour bin with a sifter on the bottom. My niece, Kristin spoke for it and it sat in my mom's basement for years and I coveted it each time I saw it. Then Kristin decided she didn't want it and mom offered it to me. That was probably ten years ago. My nephew delivered it to my garage this week and I am cleaning the 60 year old dough off with green cleaner and a toothbrush. I really don't have a place for it but I will find one and enjoy it for 20 years. Then I will pass it down to someone else who loves it.

Connections: Prudy/DeAnn/Lora Jo

Before I finally decided to join Prudy and DeAnn on the pilgrimage to Dave's funeral, I decided not to because they had decided to just go to the viewing and then come back home. I thought that was outrageous to travel that far for a viewing so I reneged. Prudy called me and insisted I go, which flattered me, and I told her I would go if we stayed for the funeral. DeAnn's husband couldn't go if we did, but Prudy and her husband Gary, DeAnn and myself ended up being the final pilgrims. It was a pilgrimage. I hadn't really talked to DeAnn for years because of her stubborn political stance, and mine. I don't have too much respect for the extreme political right wing because my understanding is that they don't actually try to gather information from all sides of the issues and they never change their minds, in the name of religious principles. I don't trust people who never change their minds.

So I was skeptical and worried that it would be a frustrating 12 hour political debate. It wasn't. In fact we didn't talk politics until the last hour or so when we had exhausted every other topic. And then it was sane. And I loved DeAnn for it.

I picked up DeAnn at her home and we drove to Prudy's to spend the night. DeAnn and I, who had shared the same room in college, talked all the way to Prudy's and almost all night. Then the four of us talked all twelve hours to Royal City, Washington and made it there in time for the viewing, which was ghastly. Dave had had lap band surgery, gastric bypass and pancreatic cancer. What was in the casket was a mere crumb of what he was as a living person. But it was very interesting to meet all of Lora's children as adults and get to know them a bit.

We didn't think we would get a chance to talk to Lora much, but the next morning she actually abandon her whole family and went to breakfast with us. It was a four hour breakfast at McDonald's and it was the highlight of the experience. Maybe one of the highlights of my life.

Reconnecting

Forty-five years ago, my friends, Prudy and DeAnn and I drove together from Eastern Idaho to Oregon to our friend Lora's wedding reception. We were young, beautiful and and a little crazy, and we had so much fun together.

We had just met a couple of months before when we were assigned to be roommates at Ricks College. There were four of us at Ricks Hall: Prudy, whom I had met in beauty school during high school, DeAnn, from Burley who later introduced me to my husband, and Lora Jo from Nyssa, Oregon. We were all just dating like crazy, even Lora, who also had a boyfriend back home. Dave had attended Ricks before his mission and was a hotshot on the football team but didn't want to go back to school. He missed Lora a lot. She was beautiful, smart, vivacious, funny, really popular and was dating some of the big men on campus. To avoid losing her, Dave asked Lora to marry him just a few weeks after school started and they were married after the first semester.

We have kept contact ever since we were freshman. We wrote an old fashioned round robin letter. We would get an envelope with a letter from each of us in it, replace our own with an updated one and send it to the next friend. We have 26 children between us, two divorces, a whopping share of difficult children, financial struggles, You know, just life stuff, but we were all committed to keeping in touch with each other. I was the last one married, but even I got married before I graduated from college. That was the Mormon way back then. But remarkably so, we all graduated. First DeAnn and Prudy, before they had a lot of children, then myself, after my divorce, then Lora Jo who got a really late start but is now a school teacher in Washington. We have all done great things. DeAnn, a political conservative, home-schooled all her children and lived on next to nothing with a worse than nothing husband. Prudy, not her husband, owns a popular nursery in Rigby, Idaho, that she bought in shambles and turned around. We are all strong women and have taken our own paths but have remained friends. I have been the worst at keeping touch. My beliefs evolved more liberally than theirs and I feel like somewhat of an outsider but they have all continued to be incredibly kind and inclusive. I think it is quite an accomplishment that we are still involved in each other's lives.

A couple of weeks ago, DeAnn called and said Dave had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer on the day after he retired as a ditchrider. Then a few days ago she called and said he died. Just went downhill fast and died. We are starting to die.

So Wednesday, DeAnn and I will be meeting Prudy at her house and we will drive together to Royal City, Washington to Dave's funeral. We are old, thick and wrinkled and our youthful craziness has been beat off by life. But we will have fun together.

Connections at Work: The Group Home Boys

There is a Group Home in the boundaries of Midas Creek Elementary, the school where I work. It is a holding home for boys who have been removed from their homes because their parents have lost their parental rights. You have to be a pretty bad parent to lose your rights. Many of them are hopeless victims of drugs and all of the ones I know of, are single parents. Sometimes the boys are placed in the group home because they, themselves, are ungovernable. Like Fad, a fifth grader. Fad lived in a refugee camp in Africa for years before he came to the U.S. to live with his grandparents. He doesn't know if his parents are alive or dead. He didn't know a word of English when he came over as a second grader. The Grandparents couldn't handle him, and he kept running away and staying with older gangish boys. So the State stepped in. One morning Fad came to school as usual and waited on the playground for the morning bell to ring to go in. A few students saw him. But he never made it in. We called the group home, but he didn't walk home. They didn't find him until the next morning when the mother of the friend he stayed with recognized his picture on TV. He had hitchhiked 30 miles to a town north of the school, where he had previously lived. Red flag.

The structure and rules in the group home are strict. The boys carry home point sheets and get rewards if they do well in school. Points at school equals points at home. All privileges are earned and they work up the level system.

All of those boys come to our school and it is a given that they have sad stories. Really sad stories and when they come to me they have repeated their sad stories a hundred times to various case workers, therapists, etc. They have had therapy up the yin yang and they could probably do therapy on me. Each one of them has a deep yearning to go home to their parent, no matter how terrible the conditions. All except Fad, who is at loose ends.

Don is a cute little guy. Dark hair and great big blue eyes. He is quite bright and highly medicated. He's still very impulsive and hyper. The district supplies an aide for Don because he's a runner and has sexual issues and cannot be left unsupervised. He witnessed his parents having sex then tried it on his sister. When I gave him and the other boys a soda, he was the only one who shook it up good before he let the geyser loose in my small office. Don has stories. Incredible unbelievable stories that he makes up to earn the approval of the other kids. The supervisor in the home says that his pretend play involves a graphic 'killing cats" commentary.

These latent boys have had very unstable lives. I never know them for a whole school year because, if they are really good and get enough points for a long enough time, they are rewarded by moving to a higher level home, where they will have all new people, new school, new everything. None of them seem to care much. I guess people with attachment disorders are numb.

Reconnecting With Daniel

What was I getting at Home Depot? I don't remember. But something memorable happened there yesterday. Again. I was in line waiting to purchase my forgettable items. At the next cashier I saw some people I knew. It was Daniel and his crazy mom. Conveniently I have forgotten their last name. It didn't surprise me that they were having some credit card trouble. When one didn't work, she would produce another one out of her wallet until one finally went through.

Let me preface this chance meeting with Daniel's story. He was a little chubby third grader at the elementary school where I worked about five years ago. He has an IQ of about 78 or 80, so was performing at that level in all areas. He was having a terrible time academically, socially, and had no coping skills. He felt stupid and unloved. And when he was frustrated, he got angry and when he got angry, he hurt people. Peers and teacher. He was an angry person! He was in my office more times than I can count crying and cooling down.

I can still hear him saying the affirmation that I teach all my kids:

I am somebody. In all the world there is no one else like me (only Daniel said something like "In all the world, I am like no other") I can do things. I can solve problems. I can change things. I am becoming the person I want to be. I am somebody.

Daniel had learning issues but he had the affirmation memorized.

He was one of the most depressed kids I have ever worked with. And for good reason. His parents were both dysfunctional, explosive, abusive, with Dad in and out of the home, with and without restraining orders. Big sisters had drug and truancy issues. One was severely retarded. Mom came into the school more than once stoned out of her mind. Daniel came to school about 10:00 every day because no one woke him up, gave him some Cheerios and sent him on his way. He was on his own.

His mother had these little dogs that she fawned over. One day she asked Daniel to give them a bath in the bathtub. Of course, they tried to escape, and while trying to contain them, one drowned. Mother was inconsolable. Daniel asked her, "Mom, do you wish it was me that drowned?" I called Family Services.

Daniel was every bully's victim. One day when he was in the sixth grade, he had an altercation with a student. He lived across the street from the school, so he walked home at lunch time, climbed up on the roof of his house and threatened to jump off. His sister called his mom and she came home and talked him down. He was hospitalized for a time after that.

So, yes, I saw them at Home Depot yesterday. I didn't say anything to them because I didn't want her to be embarrassed because of her credit card difficulties, so I just left. The parking lot was a parking lot, meaning it was gridlocked, but I knew if I drove up by the store I would have a chance to see them when they walked out. Sure enough, by the time I got up front, they were loading their compost into the car and I stopped to talk to them. Daniel came right over smiling. He was tall, handsome, self assured and well mannered. I asked how he was doing and he nodded and said he was "doing good." I told him I was so glad to see him and so glad he was happy. As they were getting into their car, his mom turned back and said, "He misses you." He probably never talks about me, but that was nice of her to say.

Connecting with Grandkids: Ali, Cole, Peanut, Elle and Cougar

We drove 20 hours or more
Made our gluteus maximus sore.
With each family a day
We stayed with them to play
Now we're ready to go back for more.

Connecting with Brant, William and Families

Last week-end we drove and drove and drove and drove to Arizona to see our two sons.
Then we drove and drove and drove and drove home. It was worth it. Why? Because the weather was incredible, but that's the minor reason. It was worth it because my daughter-in-law made me a cup of chai and chatted with me, and because she wanted me to see the model of the house they want to build. Because she let me take her daughter to the movie with me. Because the grandkids enjoyed the craft I brought them. Because they hung around me and wanted to be with me and I wanted to be with them. Because I braved the cold water in the pool, instantly got used to it, and the kids all wanted to play and race, and show off their swimming tricks. Because my oldest grand daughter played the piano for me. Because we all hung out together and enjoyed each other. I could tell.

The Power of Minor Connections

Today as I was coming out of the Maverick Station with a big, icey drink, I noticed a wreck of a car parked next to mine. Inside was an overweight, long grey pony-tailed woman in a huge white stained T-shirt. She got out of the car and spoke to me and to my surprise she was a man. He said "Your car is a really nice color." (My car is Honda Orange Revolution) I thanked him and we talked just for a few seconds. As I drove off, the weirdest warm feeling came over me. He had made a comment about something that I identified with. I bought that car because of the color. I had connected with a human being, or rather, he had connected with me in such a pleasant way. My opinion of this person changed after he spoke to me so pleasantly. I wish he knew how his connecting comment had made me feel. Lately I have been becoming more aware how connections with other members of the human race are so vital to our happiness. Connections with the people in our social circle, friends and family, AND connections with strangers. Tomorrow, I am going to make a nice comment to someone.

Connecting with Old Memories

My life has taken some unplanned twists and turns. Today is June 6th, 2011. If I were still married to my first husband, today would have been our 42nd wedding anniversary. June 6, 1969 was a terrible day. He was supposed to pick me up at my parent's house at 9:00 a.m. Instead, as I later heard from his mother, he sat in their driveway in his packed car for hours deciding whether to get married or just to take off for California where he had a summer job. Finally he picked me up at 1:00 p.m. and he drove me to the LDS Temple in Idaho Falls. When we got there, after fishing around in his pockets, he realized he had left the marriage license, his Temple recommend, and the ring at home. He sent his best man for the license. The Temple President called his Bishop and Stake President for reports of worthiness. We married without the ring, but not before his mother had the President call us into his office for a private meeting. He asked us if we loved each other. We said yes. He asked us if we were going to obey all of God's commandments. We said yes. "Then go get married!", he said. At the time I thought his mother didn't like me, but looking back, maybe she did. Preventing that marriage might have been the nicest thing she could have done for me, but, of course I never would have known. I need to write her a thank-you.

It was customary for the groom's parents to arrange a dinner after the wedding, but since our engagement was so erratic (off and on 13 times), they hadn't made any arrangements. Al and I went to Arctic Circle for a hamburger but it was closed. If I had been seeking for a sign that this marriage was not a good idea, it would have to have been a direct vision of God conking me on the head and saying, "You idiot, can't you see he doesn't love you? Give it up, already!" I was a needy, pathetic, desperate little girl. Anyway, after that inauspicious beginning, the marriage was all downhill after that.