Decoration Day>Memorial Day>Any Day

Since I was born in the forties, my relatives all called the last day in May, Decoration Day. Decoration Day was when all family members gathered in my family if at all possible to take flowers to the cemetery to decorate all graves, just not the veterans in our family. It was not even mentioned to me as a very young child that there was an option to not go to the cemetery. Shopping for just the right flowers was imperative. My mother seemed to know the appropriate flowers for each person. As I got older my mother and sister settled on imitation peonies to decorate with. My parents' car trunk would be full of the beautiful flowers. These along with the real plants that were permanently established at their resting places were always attended.
My mother was a fanatic about the grave sites being weedless and spotless. There was no need for that because the caretakers of our cemetery tended to them with loving care, it seemed. It just showed how much she cared.
I have ancestors that were veterans; one fought in the Revolutionary War, also in the Civil War. My brother is a veteran and will one day be buried along with his wife in that same cemetery even though they have lived in other states for years; Cherokee is home.
My great grandparents, my grandparents, and parents and a sister are all buried there as well as aunts, uncles, cousins, and a variety of folks that if they were not blood relatives, were considered our family.
I always smiled to myself when Mom would invariable say, "I just can't remember how to get to Mom's stone." Ha! She knew exactly how to get there.
When we were at the cemetery we would visit about the folks that were buried there. It seemed that inevitably I would learn something about my relatives at Oak Hill Cemetery. Mom would tell little stories, or shake her head in wonder at how they had survived such hardships in helping to settle the little town of Cherokee, Iowa so many years before.
She would be sad, of course. Never has there been a mother or will there be that has lost a child, spouse, parent or any loved one without being sad who had a  heart that was soft and full of love like my mother's.

This grave stone is for my mother's brother Leslie A. Banister and my Aunt Marcella. He was the oldest WWll Veteran in Cherokee
County, Iowa when he passed away in April 2018
This grave stone is in Aurelia, Iowa.

My little family, yes, would have a get together, and visit, and laugh. However, the meaning of Decoration Day was to remember, not only the sacrifices that our family veterans had made, but to honor those that had gone before us, paving the way. From their sod houses, to our beautiful homes. To their fighting Indians, to our fighting traffic. Their love of family and love of community still holds strong in the little cemetery where my family will be fondly remembered by many.
So Decoration Day, Memorial Day, Any Day that's when we honor all of our loved ones. No need to quibble about what the day is called; again that's my opinion.

My father, Ray A. Johnson my five year old sister Juanita E. Johnson and my mother, Gladys Z. Banister, Johnson, Hackney.
I put the peonies there in September when I was in Cherokee. My brother sent me this photo this afternoon.

An Automatic Swing Thing

So on Facebook the other day I posted that I needed a "thing" to automatically make my patio swing, swing without me using my foot to make it move. You need to know that I am a "sprawler". I seem to have had this condition since I became a mom. You see when I had a minute when the kids were taking a nap I  zoomed around the house and did everything that should  had to be done as quickly as possible before they woke up. That means that the dusting does not always get done. It also means that the only thing that really matters is that supper is started and well on its way to being done before the 6 o'clock whistle blows. That whistle in the little town that we lived in alerted housewives that their husbands would soon be home from work. You have to know that that was in the late sixties. You also need to understand that I was twenty-five or so. I had energy.
We were broke. I wanted to stay home with my two very young children, so I started my own day care. I ended up with a lot of children. At one time my sister-in-law helped me because I had so many children to care for.
I really needed a place to sprawl. There was only "community" space; the davenport. If my daughter is reading this, she will shake her head when she reads the word, davenport. That's what couches were called then, young people.

Our house that used to be white.
Picture taken in 2017

Anyway I may have mentioned a time or two, or possibly nagged that I needed a place that I could call my own and just relax at the end of the day. My husband did the unthinkable. He screened in  part of our wraparound porch on one side. I had my sprawl room. For about twenty-five seconds! My little two year old thought that riding his trike was great fun there. My daughter seemed to understand,  she liked to accompany me out there, but she was quiet and played/read her books. I never got a swing. However, I got a 15' Coke machine.
Why would a man spend ten dollars on an old Coke machine? I'll tell you why, to raise minnows in. Ten dollars to me in those days was like a thousand would be to me now. I was furious!!
Wally explained to me that he and his brothers were going to seine

Seining experts, not the brothers.

the river and get minnows and sell them for extra spending money. Errr. So it happened, my sprawl space was now a minnow hatchery for bait. The brothers soon found out why they got the Coke machine so cheap. The wiring was bad and soon electrocuted all of the minnows they had so proudly seined.  End of story,but not end of minnow raising attempts.
Their next attempt at raising minnows was to raise them in an old wringer washing machine. Of course, they had no aerator so they assumed in their "beer drinking state" that turning on the machine so it would agitate would give the tiny little victims the oxygen they needed. That agitator just beat the minnows to death. The end of raising minnows, however, like I said on Facebook I never ever had such a tomato crop in my life. I dug a hole, added dead minnows, place a tomato plant in the hole. That's how its done!!
So anyway getting back to my sprawling situation, my sister-in-law that lives in Tennessee commented "you could put a motor on your swing, but it would probably go into high gear and throw you off the deck." That's all it took for me to remember all the good times in that great big old house. All the good times with Wally's family, and nowhere to sprawl. So who cares?

His Name Was Blinkie

LuAnne Johnson Age 6

When I was a little girl we lived on a farm in Cherokee, Iowa. We were poor however, we always had lots of food to eat. Did we keep warm, not always. Our farm house was ancient which means calking if there ever was any, had long disintegrated. So it was hot in the summer, cold in the winter. But, my mama was the best cook ever! She baked for a grocery store in town. She cooked to please my father. He did not like rare meat. He did not crave vegetables which he got anyway because Mom said they were good for him. We had fresh lettuce out of the garden in the spring. Never  "store bought" salad fixings or bread; all raised at home. That includes butter, butter milk, cottage cheese, and of course, all of the baked goods we could eat that were full of fresh cream from our cows. This included cream for our mashed potatoes. She even made her own Mayo out of her fresh eggs and cream. Mercy! No one ever mentioned cholesterol at our house because we didn't have a clue what that was.
Toys, also, were in short commodity. I really didn't care, my mother made me share when we had company and I thought that was the most evil thing I had ever heard of. I had a big doll which I never played with, but it was mine. I had a little black doll whose name was Eleanor. I am of Caucasian D.N.A and have no memory of anyone visiting us that wasn't. The name of my little black doll was also very interesting because my mother had a cousin whose husband was very influential in our community. Her name was Eleanor. I wonder if my mother hid that doll when they visited. I don't remember them ever being at our house to tell the truth. They were very wealthy. That doll also was mine. There was no need to share. I had one other toy. To tell the truth I think Blinkie was a hand-me-down. He was ugly as sin. He was fuzzy kind of. In this day and age we would say he was "pilled." What color was he,  hmm, ugly gray/lavender dirty looking wonderfully soft and my friend. He had no button eyes, but paper eyes that were permanently adhered to his fur. When I read that last sentence it makes me wonder if even at the tender age of 6-8 I had a dry sense of humor. Why else would a child name a toy with non-blinkable eyes, Blinkie?  He had no arms, just a head kind of oval shaped, with no nose, a body, and two legs. I was a reader and an avid one at that. I also took piano lessons and enjoyed playing songs that were too hard for me. I can't even imagine the pain my mother went through with my mini rebellion stage. She was patient beyond words. She would knead bread and count, 1,2,3, 1,2,3. I begged for a metronome, but she admonished me and said you know there is no money for that. I'll be your metronome as long as you need one. 1,2,3. Blinkie generally sat with me when I was reading my Laura Ingalls Wilder books. He sometimes sat with me while I practiced my lessons. He went to bed with me occasionally, but not often. He was my friend, not my cuddle bunny. I might add, readers, I never once shared Blinkie with any of our occasional company with children. He was My friend!
I have no clue what happened to Blinkie, but I'm sure he, like many of my other long ago friends has a new friend/s that he can listen too and accompany them on their new adventures.

Sofa Pillows Have Feelings!

I was looking around my house and Marie's house and thought, "Boy, I sure wouldn't win any prizes for my home decorating." There was a time, yes there was, that I was a meticulous housekeeper. I was a fanatic about my sofa pillows. Yes, dear folks I had O.C.D.  in that department. Yes, a bit manic about the order of my stupid pillows. Furthermore, don't move them when you visit! There were times when I would throw and throw and throw those pillows until they were just right. This was all Pre-Melanie days. The little human who entered my world like a Medieval Warrior, self bent on destroying my perfect world of sofa pillows "strictly  adhered to thus far" order in the living room.

As you are reading you may have noticed I referred to these little bits of covered stuffing in two different ways. Sofa meaning belonging on the sofa for comfort as well as Throw meaning throw them at will!

When I got home today I started taking pictures of pillows in great disarray in my home. My husband said, "What in the world are you doing?" Of course, I answered, "taking pictures of our pillows." He said, "Why?" You are not getting the full effect because you cannot hear the unspoken cuss words in his question.
I answered sweetly, as always, hardly ever "for my blog post." He spoke not one more word, his eyes looked dull like a beaten man would since he had gone this route before.
I digress. The thing is a person needs sofa pillows not for geometric design or decorator expensive "you just have to have get these, Lu", pillows because they are so cute. No you need pillows for your back, you need pillows to hug, your dog needs a pillow, What?, yup he does, and you need a pillow to hug when you are watching a scary movie, or are feeling sad.
Pillows come in all sizes, shapes, and feelings. Yes, pillows have feelings. I know this to be true because I just bought some at a garage sale today, and made sure that they felt just right. I know at this point in time that the pillows I bought today will not get thrown, they will get situated on whatever piece of furniture I decide to put them on. If they are lopsided, lumpy, or a bit frayed, it makes no difference. They are my pillows for my lopsided, lumpy, and a bit frayed body to cuddle. After reading this post, I am sure you will look at your "pillow friends" with a different perspective. (Or not)

The Faces Of "B"

I have known this lady for years and years. Lost touch with her for years and years. Liked her for years and years. Then along came Facebook; there she was. My dear friend, Mrs. B.

My beautiful friend, Mrs. B

In long term care, they always used to say, "you have to wear many different hats." I think that goes to say for most of us. Some of us have spouses, some do not. Some have out of home careers, some do not. Some have children some do not. On and on it goes. Some of us have sadness come to us in our lifetimes, some do not. I've always wondered about that theory.  You  don't always know what goes on behind happy faces and how many tears are shed in the shower.
Then there are some people who are so talented! Some  I want to be creative and have to read a book or go on line to profess artistic and culinary talents. My friend, Mrs. B has a creative streak that shows in her career (hair dresser). It shows in her home decorating, also in her gardens as well as her cooking and baking. It also shows in the way she cares for her children (three sons) her granddaughter, Marlee, as well as her extended family of step grandchildren and even some step great grandsons. She has two sisters and one brother Everyone that knows her or has her as a family member including her siblings, in my opinion, would be blanketed with love. The love shows itself in many different ways. She has been a member of the Red Cross and has given tirelessly to others on the spot and in many different ways. I see her on Facebook telling folks that someone has had a fire and lists the things that the family needs. It goes on.

Red Cross Volunteer since 2008

 She had a beauty shop in a small town where I used to live. My best friend and I would take up the whole afternoon sometimes and get "the works". Oh we had so much fun. Steel Magnolia had nothing over Country Clippers. You had a problem you talked it over and ended up laughing on your way out the door. Simply put she was a hairdresser with a bartender attitude. She would listen to your sad, your glad, and your everyday chatter with a little home town gossip thrown in for good measure

Country Clippers!

Mrs. B and her three sons!

. Usually on the way out you would thank her for the coffee or the treat that she inevitably offered you. Country Clippers was decorated for every season there was, plus once in awhile she put a season of her own in her big bay window just for good measure..

Well I'm not here to ring any bells for Mrs. B I am here to tell the story of the Fairy Garden that she started years and years ago. She said she has always been fascinated by the little fairy tale people and started putting them around a fountain that she had. Then
the little people started migrating to her flower gardens. At this particular time her little granddaughter, Marlee, is discovering treasures that Grandma B has made sure that she will find to help fill up her treasure chest. I believe it has at this point grown into a Treasure Bucket!

The Ex-Factor

This winter while I was posting pictures of ancestors and relatives of my mother-in-law I was reminded that "ex's" had been part of their family for years and were still considered family regardless if the marriage had not worked out. That gave me something to think about. I had been writing short bios for her family as well as her own stories. I found out things about her family that were absolutely astonishing as well as amazing. Some of which were no longer married into this family, but were well thought of and still loved.

I have been an "ex". It is not always comfortable. You sometimes think that you have a stigma that you don't deserve. Other times you feel still part of that family. That is the dangerous feeling. The reason is you become comfortable in that role of  "Aunt, or Sister-in-law" and Boom! the rug gets pulled out from underneath those numb feet of yours and in subtle ways you are reminded that you are no longer part of that family thank you very much. It hurts.

While I was doing a lot of story telling this winter I found another "ex" that is also very talented. I also found out by accident that she had been a follower of my blogs for years. I had no clue. When you write a blog such as mine you pretty much tell the world your story in your posts. It takes years, but she had been following for years and never said a word.

We started to chat on Facebook Messenger. I found out that she can sing. And boy can she sing. I asked her if I could put a song that I just love that she sings beautifully in this post and she agreed. Thank you so much, Laurie. I hope you enjoy her singing.
This is a link that you click on to hear her sing "Patsy Cline and a Bottle of Wine." Also you will see Silver Haired Angel that is not referring to Laurie, but my old CB handle. You just got to do what you got to do!

https://soundcloud.com/user-808811299/voice-180521

I Have Chronic Foot In Mouth Disease!

It seems from the time I was old enough to make complete sentences, I have put my foot in my mouth. I can remember a time when I hurt someone's feelings when I was a teenager. I apologized and apologized, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. I vowed then and there that I would think before I spoke. I have such trouble doing that. However, as I got older, I got wiser. I got slower to react to situations. Once in a great while, I did speak before I thought. I would not have made a very good attorney, because I do not research my arguments before I make my speech.
When I was the mother of teens I did do a lot of talking, but found it fell on deaf ears at times. Hmm. Well, things seemed to settle down.
I started writing blogs and that is a great place to say what you think. You can read what you write and delete what you think doesn't sound just right. You just cannot do that in real life situations.
Yesterday, just a few days before my seventy fourth birthday I did it again. I did it big time!! This time there were witnesses to my speedy mouth. Fran said that we were going out to eat. I had not been out to eat for almost six months. I am just not comfortable having Fran and I both out on the road at the same time. Fran invited my son so the three of us headed to the cafe. As we went down the gravel road I told Fran that I wanted to stop at the new flea market that was opening up. I had been watching the people start putting things outside. They had also started putting up bedding plant flowers. I had always thought that a little store like that would be a great addition to our area.
When we were about home, I reminded Fran to stop. When we pulled in the lady was getting ready to leave. I asked her if they were closed. She looked at me strangely and so I asked her again, only this time I asked her if they would be open today since it was Mother's Day. She started laughing and by that time her husband was out by our truck and he started laughing too. You guessed it, it was not a store!! She said, "Would you like to come inside, I'll show you around." I looked at the guys and said that of course, we would love too.
Take a look at these pictures and see what you think. This is what you see from the road. And inside, you would not believe what they did in just three short weeks. They own the house that is next to this building. They have a large family and knew that the owner of this building was not leasing it or running a business out of it anymore.
If she said once, she said a dozen times. "I get stuff for free, then I paint it and make use of it." I should have asked if I could take pictures of the inside, but I didn't think of it. It was just gorgeous inside. She made a kitchen counter out of an old door and put a double sink in it. She painted her boss's old work bench and made a beautiful wall hanging out of it. You may recognize the wheels, they are ends of wire or cable spindles that she has painted. Inside she used the complete spindle for a table that was upholstered in wild colors. They had a huge dining room table and chairs. She made a bed out of branches and twigs! Yes she did. She said, "I've never done anything like this before." She made her grandchildren bunk beds out of cedar logs and has their bedrooms decorated perfectly for children.  She has sleeping room for twenty people in that metal building. And the hanging fireplaces!! Oh, my goodness she got them on clearance for $99.00.

This time no one got mad at me, no one looked shocked for more than a minute or two and we all laughed and had an excellent time. This time my speaking before thinking may have earned me a new friend or two.

She Is "The Friend" Of The Timber

Every morning I sit on the deck and watch the birds. They are amazing! So many different colors and sizes, but personalities! Oh my goodness, there are some that could be diagnosed with A.D.H.D. The hyper ones seem to be the smaller ones. They land on the feeder then they do this little dance. They flit to and fro. They seem to even forget why they are there. They sometimes peck at a seed and they fly off, but not far. They watch to see if those  many black birds are going to interfere with their prize.
I get a kick out of the robin that has taken up residency on top of the shepherd hook that the feeders are hanging on some mornings
. He has no interest whatsoever in the feed, but likes to pretend he is the President of the First Annual Feeder Society. He has this huge chest that he puffs out to help him feel important. It's too bad the other birds tend to ignore him.
The orioles and the meadow larks, of course are so very beautiful this year. The hummingbirds have a nest in the big tree right next to the deck. It is so tiny I can't see it, but I know that it's there because they go to the same branch time after time.

Then there is my favorite bird, the mourning dove. She is beautiful. If she was human she would need no make-up, no designer gowns, in my opinion she was made with careful planning by my God in Heaven. She is quiet and accepts discarded seeds that the others spit on the ground. She seems to quake with fear when you carelessly watch what is happening, but in fact, she has strong determination and strong values.
She is a slow mover in our timber, but she seems to know that her life mate is near and will take care of her as long as he can. She also knows that she probably won't live to be old because of the hawks and other predators that live in the same timber. Her voice is soft and sweet. You can hear her call softly for her mate.
Our little dove could be compared to the Quaker Friends. They are soft spoken, but of strong convictions. They are plain clothed, but have clean and beautiful homes and gardens.
My little mourning dove that I get to watch every morning is also beautiful, but not a bit fancy. She asks for very little, just someone to love her and care for her.
The cats and hawks and other critters outside are not her friends, but she is not afraid. She accepts her lot in God's Kingdom and is now taking her rightful place on the top of the shepherd hook. Good for her!

I Called Her Bag Lady

In 1986 my daughter introduced me to a gal that she worked with. Her name makes no difference, I called her "bag lady" because she carried the hugest bags I had ever seen off the beach. She could have carried her breakfast, lunch, and supper plus the next days outfit, and makeup with little effort.
I had an extra room, she needed a room. Boom, we were roommates. We had a ball together. She was about sixteen years younger than me. I needed a shot of youth at that point in time. I had her send me pictures of what she carries now, I didn't say anything, but these bags are tame compared to the ones of 1986.
That was a long time ago you say, yup, it was. But as the old saying goes, if you are really friends distance doesn't make any difference.
We talk on the phone about five or six times a year and of course, we keep track of each other on FaceBook.

7 months old

I was about forty-two at that time and was not up to date on the "scene" as they say. However, Bag Lady was. One night she said, Come on, Lu, let's go to Opies. I had no clue what Opies was, but I was game. She drove, of course, and soon we arrived and parked in front of this huge club/dance hall. I was shocked at the size of this building. We went in and the place was packed. I told her there was no place to sit. She looked at me and grinned and said, "Who cares, we have to scope this place out before we find someplace to sit." I'm forty-two Scope is a mouthwash. Let me tell you, I did not slow that gal down for one minute! I just watched her "scope" and she knew exactly what she was doing. She found a group of good looking guys and just meandered slowly, but with a determination to where they were. The girl knew how to Scope. Like I said we had a really good time together. We had adventure after adventure. She was living with me when I met the Curtain Rod Salesman, but she doesn't remember it. Hmm and here I thought that was a fun time.
We went all over the place and met more characters; some were good some were not. She learned that oil needed to be changed occasionally so that the motor in your car doesn't give out loud knocks! She learned that speeding in Iowas means that you have to pay their ticket that was awarded her. If not, you license gets suspended without your knowledge.

6 years old

She is an artist!

She ended up getting married, and adopting a cute set of twin boys. And guess what, the "bag lady" ended up with grandchildren. Look at these cute little guys. The bag lady is easily confused nowadays though, I asked her if she wanted a picture of the baby and she said, "what baby, I'm so confused." I told her I was going to use that and she laughed and said, "I'd be disappointed if you didn't." She loves them to pieces. She has developed an interest in decorating cupcakes, and cooking with every new kitchen appliance that comes on the market. She has an infinity for new and/or newer cars. She lives in cold country so she needs to plow through snow with her vehicle.
She is looking forward to retiring in just a few years. In fact she talks about that a lot! I wonder what Bag Lady will do in her retirement years. Probably go out of her mind. No, she'll probably Scope out the job market for young retirees. Love you, girl. Oh, we did have some fun times, didn't we?

We Should All Have Had Curvature Of The Spine!

In the 1940's  or thereabouts, a horrible thing I called nylons, were invented. They originated from cheaper materials like rayon. We called them nylons, which they eventually were made from. They were also made from silk. Ladies would actually receive from a gentleman a beautifully wrapped box with silk stockings encased with tissue paper. That gift was a very intimate one given by a serious beau or husband.

Hose by any name was the bane of my existence! In the 1950's they had seams up the back. They had to be straight from the point of the back of your shoe to the end of the stocking. In order to do this you had to either have someone "spot" you or you had to continually look back to see if the stupid seam was straight. It 

These stockings were held in place by garters that were attached to a garter belt. The garter belt was worn on top of your panties, or...you wore a girdle which had attached garters. It was a designers dream and a consumer nightmare!!
I will never forget the day I purchased my first pair of pantie hose; they had no seams! It was like being given the rest of my life on a silver platter. I could again, be spontaneous and do whatever I wanted to without planning an extra fifteen minutes of screwing around with those silly seams.
My mother was a lovely woman, but at times she muttered things under her breath that weren't so "lovely." One time I heard her talk about a woman with crooked seams. She said, "She must have had to get up extra early this morning to get those seams that crooked." Yup, that was my mom. I had to laugh to myself because the woman she was talking about was a high society woman in the little town where I grew up.
Oh, and we always had to carry a purse that had a bottle of clear fingernail polish in it. These silly things would get runs! If by pure luck you caught a "run" before it went haywire, you could dab a bit of fingernail polish on it which would stop it. Then when you got home you would forget about it and it would rip from your leg and then the lovely stockings were trashed.
Now days, the seamed hose are pictured as something sexy by many and are very expensive. I just saw some that were for sale on line for over forty dollars. Good for them.
Then fashions have changed in this day and age. Women don't wear hose for the most part. Well, I have my own way of doing things. If I want to I will. If I don't I won't. Hmm, kind of sums up my personality. I don't know that to be a fact, but I have been told that.
Talk to you soon!

The House Dress

As the majority of you know I am taking care of my very elderly mother-in-law. Some of you are aware also that the very elderly always complain about being cold even though the room that they are in is in fact very warm. I learned early on in my career of long term care that the care givers had to be very careful not to let them pile on the covers and/or layer their clothing to excess. The folks would get way too hot and could possibly cause a severe case of over heating of themselves if they weren't monitored carefully.

Well, this subject is a priority since I have been taking care of this sweet lady. She is always cold. That isn't a problem since I am here and she is not able to over heat herself due to her immobility.

Then the thermometer outside for the last three days has zoomed up to over eighty degrees. M.S. does not like heat. Yes, I am much better, however, I am still symptomatic in most areas. 

Last year I ordered somethings out of those freebie catalogues that you get in the mailbox. I know, I shouldn't have, but this order turned out to be just what the doctor ordered for my new "job." A house dress just like my mother and my grandmother and her mother before her wore. These little dresses are lightweight, colorful, and really comfortable. Oh, I forgot, cheap!!

When I was just a little girl I saved my quarter a week allowance for months to buy Christmas presents for my family. This picture is a photo of my mother that was in the Cherokee Daily Times with her Kitchen Aide Mixer. I cannot be certain, but I think I bought that house dress she is wearing at Penny's for a little bit more than two dollars. We had no air conditioning in our old farm house. She had her stoves going all the time it seemed. This little house dress was cotton. The days of polyester were not heard of yet.

I am not very lady like when I wear my little house dresses, but I am cool without having to turn on the fans and air yet. Wish me luck!

Will Rogers Must Have Been A Close Relative

Will Rogers was many things. He was an actor, a comedian, a philosopher of life in general that for the most part I thoroughly agree with. He said that worrying is like sitting in a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but doesn't get you anywhere! That one little statement fits me to a T. I come from a long line of worriers. My grandmother was the worst, although I am much like her in that department.
My uncle, her oldest son, lived in Ohio. He would visit every year like clockwork, however, every time he was packing his car to leave she cried to point of hysteria "because she was never going to see him again." I would have thought that was not the happiest of send offs for him year after year.
I was in a terrible car accident almost thirty eight years ago, but I continue to worry that I will get in another one.
But, I think that my father was the best worrier of the whole lot. He was always worried that my mother would find out that he visited relatives while she was working on the weekend. He worried that she would find out that he had purchased probably the fifteenth radio that she had told him he didn't need. He had a transisster radio fettish!  He just knew that she would find out that instead of getting a haircut, he had purchased a little gizmo. Gizmos were my father's downfall. He absolutely loved stuff that did "stuff"! He was the love of my life.
He never tired of telling me about a rattle that he bought for me when I was two months old (1944). It was a pink telephone receiver. He told me that when he gave it to me the very first time I shook and shivered with delight. It gave me a visual of the two of us. I can still "see" him telling me that little story years ago.
He was quiet spoken, a non-disciplinarian, soft hands that he had to constantly use a special lotion for to prevent splits in his nails and a ponderer.
My father pondered on lots of things. He was a Will Rogers reincarnated. He would ponder if the television would bother mom while she was doing her college course in bookkeeping at the age of sixty something. He would ponder if it was worth the money to call me long distance to tell me that he was in the dog house again. You see, he and I were "buds". We told each other things that most fathers and daughters don't. He knew that I had his back!
By now I'm sure you think my mother was terrible. Not! She was a saint to put up with the both of us. I am sitting here chuckling thinking of the three of us. What a trio we were. My sister was almost twelve years older than I and was gone and my brother was four years younger than I was and was busy doing "guy stuff" with his friends
As we grew into adults, I lived in another state, my brother was in the Navy, and my sister also lived in another state, but was much closer and could keep an eye out for the two of them as they grew older.
One day my dad called and said, "Annie (mom hated that he called me that) I'm in the dog house again." Of course, I said, "Oh, Daddy, what did you do now?"
"Well, you see I wasn't paying attention and I poured a can of Stop Leak in the gas tank instead of Heat. I have to take the whole gas tank off the old Plymouth. I have to hurry and get that gas tank drained and cleaned before I pick up your mom from work." My reply was, "Oh, Daddy, why are you talking to me on the phone when you should be fixing it quick before she finds out?"
Yup that's the way we were. I am one of the luckiest people in the whole world to have had my dad for my dad. I also knew that my mom probably knew every single thing that dad and I thought we kept from her. She was a mom you know. Oh how I loved them.
Will Rogers also said, "Do the best you can, and don't take life too serious.."
I worry about that, Will Rogers! Oh well, gives me something to do.