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Chicken-coop Table

Posted on January 26, 2017 by susanrray

screen-shot-2017-01-26-at-9-18-27-amIf furniture could talk, there’s an oak table that could tell stories. I first saw it, and four chairs, in Granny’s chicken coop in the spring of 1969 and it was completely covered with feathers and chicken poop. Granny said Husband-to-be and I could have the old rectangular shaped table, and my parents thought it’d make a perfect kitchen table for us. But I couldn’t believe anyone would ever eat a meal on it.

Using hot water and stiff brushes, Dad and I scrubbed the maple-veneered top, that was buckled and cracked, and discovered a solid oak top to match the table’s legs. Dad cleaned, sanded, and refinished the table and four chairs and he glued and secured every leg. It was the perfect size for a small one-bedroom apartment and had a pop-up leaf. Husband and I moved that sturdy, pretty oak table into our first apartment and took it with us when we moved.

In 1980, Dad made and gave us a round oak table so the chicken coop table went into storage. I like to think it enjoyed a rest. No doubt after surviving several moves, and our children’s toddler years, it needed some time off.

When Daughter was a college student and living in an apartment, the table was her desk. For three years it sat next to her bed and was covered with books, papers, a word processor, and everything that a college student throws onto a flat surface. And then back to storage for a short time until Son and his friend, college students, needed a kitchen table in their apartment.

After graduation when Son took his first job, the table went with him to Kentucky. Then Son married, and the table travelled with the newlyweds to Texas and then Colorado. When Son and Daughter-in-law bought a new kitchen table, chicken-coop table once again became a desk. But it was soon replaced by a new modern office desk. Now it’s back here in storage.

Chicken-coop table is well traveled. During the past forty-eight years, it’s made five stops in Tennessee, two in Kentucky, one in Texas, and two in Colorado. It’s ridden in vans, pick-up trucks, rented trailers, and professional moving trucks.

How I wish this table had a tiny recorder and could tell its stories. The chickens squawking in the chicken coop. Discussions around a breakfast table between newlyweds and Friday night pizza with friends. Those first meals with a new baby in the house. Birthday parties. Holiday dinners.

Stories told in the confines of a college coed’s room. Stories of studying and laughing and crying and celebrating. It could tell of life in an apartment of two college men. Late night talks and card games played. Life of a young man taking on his first job.   Second-generation newlyweds and their first child.

And I’d really like to know where that table lived before it was stored away in Granny’s chicken coop. And I wonder how long chicken-coop table will rest. When will it be used again?

Filed under: Inspirational, Memories | Tagged: , | Leave a comment »

What if you break your resolution?

Posted on January 19, 2017 by susanrray

screen-shot-2017-01-19-at-7-55-31-amDid you read the Snuffy Smith cartoon strip in this newspaper last week? Snuffy, a hillbilly who lives deep in Kentucky hills, almost hit the bullseye with my feelings about New Year’s resolutions. Snuffy’s friend, Lukey, asked, “Didja make a New Year’s resolution?”

Snuffy answered, “Shore did! Made it! Broke it! Already mullin’ my options fer next year.”

I say, “Made it! Broke it! Already trying again.” According to a televised news report, only about 44% of the people in the United States make resolutions and less than 10% are successful in keeping these self-made promises.

The top resolutions are being a better person. That includes weight, exercise, breaking bad habits and the list goes on. My goals fall within that wide realm and I was inspired by two people, Brenda and Deanna.

Brenda answered the phone when I called the doctor’s office. She spoke with a cheerful voice. I sniffed and coughed and explained that I wanted to see the doctor. “Oh, honey, you need to. Let me find a time for you to come in. How long have you felt so bad?” Maybe she was asking for information, but she sounded concerned. “I want you to feel better. It’s no fun being sick,” she said. Brenda scheduled my appointment and I was ready to hang up the phone when she said, “Now you take it easy. Don’t try to do much until you feel better.”

While eating at a restaurant, I felt a small jolt on the back of my chair and someone rubbed against my shoulder. I turned and a little girl almost fell into my lap. Deanna grabbed her daughter and said with great embarrassment, “Oh, I’m so sorry. My two-year-old tried to jump from her chair onto the floor. I couldn’t catch her in time. I’m sorry.” Big sister stood close beside her daddy. Baby sister was in Dad’s arms.

I smiled and said, “She’s your middle child, right?” She was and she leaned against my lap. I lay my hand on her shoulder. “Middles think they can do anything,” I said. Deanna nodded, and I told her that I’m a retired teacher and have eight young grandchildren. Deanna sighed. “Oh, thank you. I’m glad you understand.” We visited briefly. Talking about children. Deanne hugged her middle child and said to me, “You have a really good day. We try to everyday.”

Be friendly and nice. That’s my resolution. Brenda could have scheduled my appointment in a business voice and never acknowledged that I sounded sick. Never encouraged me to take it easy. Deanna could have grabbed her toddler, apologized quickly, and headed out the door. My encounters with both women were short. Both made me smile.

Like 90% of people who make resolutions, I break mine. Then I try again to be like Brenda and Deanna. Just take a few minutes to be friendly and nice to everyone. Even strangers. Especially to family and friends.

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Treasures – the Simplest Things

Posted on January 5, 2017 by susanrray

screen-shot-2017-01-05-at-7-51-03-amThe true treasures in life are found in the simplest things. A small, framed picture with those words sits on the windowsill above my kitchen sink. Perched in the frame’s corner are a miniature birdfeeder and three birds: a cardinal, a blue jay and a tufted titmouse. This picture by Marjolein Bastin, and sold by Hallmark, makes me smile every time I see it, although it’s been in my kitchen for decades.

            Not to be sappy, excessively sentimental, but during the holidays my greatest treasures and what I most appreciated were not purchased gifts under the Christmas tree.

Like many mothers, my best gift was having my children and their families together. They sat around Husband’s and my dining room table. Six adults, eight children, ages 1 to 11. A white tablecloth and a Christmas candle centerpiece weren’t important. Or that some drinks were poured into the best crystal and some into plastic cups with a top and a straw.   Or what food was served. How many times have you heard someone ask, “Mom, have you eaten?” Maybe she was filled with the happiness of having all her brood together and eating was trivial.

Three Grands and their parents travelled across country and three nights, at my Grands’ bedtime, I read Watch Out for Mater. (In the world of Cars, Mater is a rusty tow truck that Lightning McQueen must protect.) Dean, age 5, chose the book. He and his little brother Neil snuggled close as I sat on their bed. Dean giggled because Lightning had a girlyfriend, Sally, and Neil was sad that Matter cried. “He should’ve listened to Lightning. Then he wouldn’t cry,” Neil said. How good it was to snuggle and watch my Grands absorb the characters’ emotions.

For our first-ever Family Talent Show, David, a beginning piano student, played “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Louise, age 9, entertained us with her violin. Two five-year-old cousins teamed up to share every Knock-Knock joke they knew and then they made up a few. And anyone who didn’t have a planned act, danced. (This term is used loosely to include shuffling feet and somersaults.)

My seven year-old Grand gave me a special handwritten card. “I love Gran bekus she loves me.” I treasure her line drawings of a butterfly and a spider web and she signed it as I sign her birthday cards, ‘Love forever.’ My Grand knows how to tug my heartstrings.

When I announced, “Anyone who wants to win a prize come sit quietly at the dining room table.” I wasn’t sure how my plan would go. I brought out Bingo. A wire cage, marble size balls embossed with such things as B15, white playing cards, and a basket of prizes. This game deserves its own column.

You’ve enjoyed such simple things, too. Family together. Reading a book. A handmade card. A game. Acting silly. Let’s appreciate simple things as treasures during 2017.

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Filed under: Celebrate, Inspirational | Tagged: , | Leave a comment »

Leaving and Taking

Posted on October 13, 2016 by susanrray

screen-shot-2016-10-13-at-6-35-24-amHusband and I are moving. Leaving the house we built. The yard we cleared of brush and saplings. The home where we raised children and welcomed Grands. Moving a short distance, only a mile. To a yard that’s much smaller than the 2.3 acres we cleared thirty-something years ago. To a house a bit smaller and making it our home.

It’s a good move. A move we’ve talked about for several years. A move that’s our choice.

We’re leaving our snow sledding hill.   Where the Grands learned to sled, learned to lean left to avoid hitting a tree, learned that their sledding turn wasn’t over until they pulled the sleds up the hill for someone else to have a turn. We’re taking the buyer’s promise that our Grands are welcome to sled anytime the hill is covered with snow.

We’re leaving the basketball goal. The goal set up on the concrete driveway before the house walls were painted. The goal that our children and Grands spent hours shooting a basketball through. We’re taking the ball and we’ll buy a portable goal.

We’re leaving the wedding steps. The outside yard steps built fourteen years ago so wedding reception guests could easily walk down our steep hill to celebrate with Daughter and Son-in-Law. We’re taking the memories and pictures of a long line of family and friends who visited as they slowly made their way down the steps to wedding punch and cake.

We’re leaving the creek. The shallow, narrow creek that’s perfect to wade in and build a dam across. To throw a leaf into and watch it float, to throw rocks into for a big splash, to gather smooth rocks, to dig in the mud. We’re taking the buyer’s welcome to come play anytime.

We’re leaving the dining room. The room where Son and Daughter-in-Law opened wedding gifts the day after their wedding while those who love them best sipped coffee and nibbled cinnamon rolls. Where Happy Birthday has been sung dozens and dozens of times. Where my parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary supper and their teenage grandchildren wanted to eat and run and go to their high school’s football game. Where friends eat whatever is served – soup and cornbread or steak and shrimp. We’re taking the dining room table, the china, the silver, and making plans for family Christmas breakfast at our new home.

We’re leaving the very best ever next-door neighbors. Neighbors who watched our house and collected our mail when we vacationed and brought treats on every holiday. We’re taking their friendship.

We’re leaving trees. White oak, sycamore, tulip poplar, dogwood, maple. Trees we marked with yellow plastic strips to save from chain saws. Trees that drop brown and yellow and orange leaves. Trees where squirrels build nests and run along their branches. Trees I love. We’re taking memories of our children and the Grands jumping in just-raked leaf piles. Memories of the last yard clearing, for the year, on the day after Thanksgiving when family time was spent using leaf blowers, rakes, and huge tarpaulins to haul leaf piles to the woods.

We’re leaving a basement garage. We’re taking our cars to a main level garage.

We’re leaving one home and taking our beds, our clothes, our books, our coffeepot, and our welcome mat to a new home.

Oh, how I wish I could wave a wand to pack, move, unpack and be sitting with my knees under my writing desk. The move is good. The moving, not so good.

Filed under: Everyday Life, Inspirational, Uncategorized | Tagged: , , | 3 Comments »

Thank You, Playground Leaders!

Posted on March 24, 2016 by susanrray

Screen Shot 2016-03-24 at 7.37.21 AMBy now, everyone in Cookeville knows the Heart of the City Playground officially opened this month. But my Grands and many other children have run, climbed, jumped, and swung since December. Cookeville’s 12,000 square foot playground is unique in design and is accessible for all children – those who run on two legs and those who roll a wheelchair.

As I watched and listened during the Sunday afternoon Grand Opening ceremony, I felt a huge sense of pride. And not just for the playground. I’m most proud of the mothers who led this effort. The mothers of babies and toddlers and middle school age children. The mothers had said to each other that they wished for a place to get together with their children. A convenient place where their children could play safely and they could visit with each other. A place where all children could play.

One of these mothers invited me to a playground organizational meeting at city hall almost two years ago. I was the only gray haired person there – all others were young enough to be my children and younger. The meeting was chaotic and the enthusiasm on fire. I left knowing that these young parents would build a playground no matter what and that I’d met the future of Cookeville. During the past two years, I crossed paths with a few of these leaders.

Having no fundraising experience didn’t stop Elizabeth from volunteering to be in charge of raising almost $500,000. She and her committee hosted many events, everything from a gala where guests wore black ties and tiaras to Touch-a-Truck where children climbed on tractors and fire engines. They went to businesses and wrote letters and made phone calls to secure sponsors. And Elizabeth hugged and thanked a kid who gave $10, as if that was all the money needed.

Virginia captained the Design and Special Features committee. She and her committee made sure all the special Cookeville designs were authentic. Derryberry Hall, the Depot, Burgess Falls, and more. She moved those cut out pieces from under a tent during rain to a church basement or to anywhere she could find to keep the designs dry during the week long rainy build week. Virginia was the paint lady and she ensured that every board and screw top and bird and waterfall were painted the right color.

Ashley and Kelly, with smiles and encouragement and hard work, spearheaded as general coordinators. They complemented each other with their divided tasks. They led by example and never missed a chance to give credit to others. To Laura who organized 2,000 build volunteers and Alejandra who chaired a committee to babysit for the build volunteers’ children. Hannah made sure water, snacks, and meals were provided for workers. Ashley and Kelly sent an email to invite all volunteers to the Grand Opening. The invitation began with “YOU ALL SHOULD BE SO PROUD! WE DID IT! A lot of sweat, tears (and some blood!)… but it’s finished and you had a part in leaving a LEGACY for the children of this community for years to come!”

 

I marvel at the energy of these young mothers. Their dedication. Their perseverance. Their determination. As I watched them work together, I realized that Cookeville is in good hands. My generation appreciates this younger generation.

Congratulations to Ashley and Kelly and all the committee captains. I hope you talk and laugh together often as you watch your children play at the Heart of the City Playground.

Filed under: Inspirational, Playground | Tagged: , , , | Leave a comment »

If Wishes Came True

Posted on January 7, 2016 by susanrray

 

I wish…..I saw a poster on Facebook that stated, “I wish there were more hours in a day and everyone was nice and bread didn’t make you fat.” Immediately, I hit the like button. Who wouldn’t like eating all the bread you wanted, especially hot-from-the-oven sour dough bread slathered with butter, and then have your nice friends compliment you on the thirty pounds you gained?

I asked Facebook friends what they would wish for. The replies ranged from serious to silly. Personal to worldwide. Heart wrenching to heart lifting.

I wish I could remember all my passwords. I wish healthy food tasted as good as dessert. That I could always be as happy as I am when I look into the face of a child. I wish we would talk more and communicate electronically less. (Ironically, we were communicating electronically.)

Grandmothers wished blessings on children. That all people would see children as miracles and love them accordingly. I wish my baby granddaughter who is in Monroe Carroll Hospital at Vanderbilt could come home soon! I wish every child could be loved, nurtured and accepted for who they are.

Several wished for peace on earth. And probably peace is what two friends had in mind: I wish for a world without guns. I wish everyone knew Christ and didn’t just know about Him.

Teacher friends spoke out. I wish that teachers were paid (and appreciated) as much as doctors, lawyers, and professional athletes.   I wish my college students would learn that the answers for everything they ask are in the SYLLABUS.

From parents of teenagers: I wish we had the wisdom, that has life taught us, when we were 17. I wish my kids, ages 12 and 17, wouldn’t insist on learning things the hard way. I wish they’d realize that parents share advice to try to make their lives a little easier.

Wishes covered everyone. I wish each of us valued the other person as much as we value ourselves. I wish we could find a cure for cancer and other terminal illnesses. That everyone looked for the good in others and no one would ever go to bed hungry. Days with lots of laughter.

Many thought of family. I wish for more time with my dad and favorite aunt and uncle. People are here for a time and then they are gone too soon. Memories live on, but oh, just for a little more time. I wish for one day with my mom and dad so they could know my children. I wish I could spend a week in the mountains or at the beach with my siblings. I wish that families still lived close and children knew their family members.

Young mothers wished for their grandparents. I wish my mother and grandparents were still alive. I wish I had Granny Ruby’s and Pa Lehman’s stories that they used to tell me written down or recorded! I wish I had all of my grandmother’s recipes.

Not one person wished for money or stuff. Maybe because those who responded are like me: we have the necessities of life.   Food and clothes. Warm homes and running water.

My friends’ wishes remind me that time is my greatest commodity. My heart joins those who wish to be with grandparents and aunts and uncles and siblings. And those who recognize happiness in a child’s face and that children are miracles.

Which wish made me grin the biggest? I wish that all people could get their wishes. Me, too.

Filed under: Everyday Life, Inspirational | Tagged: , , | Leave a comment »

An Act of Quiet Kindness

Posted on August 19, 2015 by susanrray

Screen Shot 2015-08-19 at 9.51.03 PMThis week’s guest columnist is Myra, my cousin. Some would say she’s my second cousin’s wife. She’s my cousin and good friend. Her story is best told in her words. Myra posted a brief version of this story on Facebook. It’s been shared 1,597 times.

I stopped at Larry’s OK Tire Store, in Johnson City, TN, to buy tires. Larry’s, a locally owned community fixture, also does repairs and it was busy. While I waited, I talked with other customers, including a couple in their late 50s.

A young man and his two young children unobtrusively enter the store. The boy wore Avengers pajamas and tennis shoes. The father wore faded jeans so long they cover his well-worn tennis shoes. Stooped and appearing fatigued, he shuffled to a chair in the corner. His son sat on his lap; his daughter at his feet. Both were quiet and still.

The wife of the couple asked the children, “Are you getting ready to go back to school?”

No one immediately responded. Finally the father said, “Well, we’re from out of town.

My son is here getting cancer treatment.” Niswonger Children’s Hospital is less than a mile from Larry’s.

“How old is he?”

“Five.”

“Where y’all from?”

“Kentucky. We’re staying here for his treatment. We’ve been down to St. Jude’s in Memphis before this.”

Silence. The boy fidgeted. I noticed dark circles under his eyes and thought of my two healthy children.  Jesse, the employee behind the counter, never looked up. Larry and several men worked in the garage shop area.

The husband asked, “Have you heard of MD Anderson in Houston?” Just then, Jesse announced that the couple’s truck was ready. As they left, they shook the father’s hand and said they would pray for his son.

I watched the quiet family out of the corner of my eye. The boy pointed to the 25-cent jellybean dispenser. His dad fished a crumpled dollar bill from his jeans’ pocket and quietly said, “I’ll get change later.” Jesse had joined the workmen in the garage shop.

Desperate to help, I found one lone quarter in the bottom of my purse. “Here, this’ll get a handful of  jelly beans,” I said. The little boy slid off his dad’s knee and slowly walked to me. I wished for another quarter to give the girl. She never complained about not getting candy.

I asked the father, “Are you having tire trouble?”

“No. Trouble with the oil filter. I’m glad they can look at it today.” He didn’t offer other details.  I didn’t ask. I wondered if the mother was resting at the hospital. Or wasn’t she in the picture at all?

The boy clutched the jellybeans and climbed onto his father’s lap. Frustrated that I didn’t have cash,  I ripped a subscription card out of a magazine and wrote a note that I handed to Jesse when my car, with its new tires, was ready. My note: “Can I please pay this young man’s car repair bill?”

Jesse didn’t look up. “There won’t be one,” he said briskly. I paid my bill and he dashed to the garage shop again.

As I left, Jesse rushed into the waiting room. He walked to the father and held out his hand, as if to shake hands. Not saying a word, Jesse pressed a wad of money into the father’s hand.

There is much I could say about how privileged I feel to have witnessed this act of quiet kindness, but I’ll leave it at this: I’m never buying tires anywhere else.

 

 

 

 

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Make a Successful Adult

Posted on April 8, 2015 by susanrray

Screen Shot 2015-04-08 at 3.48.06 PMSometimes I hear something that strikes my heart and that happened at the WCTE/PBS Annual Dinner last week. Tara Brown, known as The Connection Coach, said that kids need to hear, “You are good at ________.” (Fill in the blank.) The motto under Ms. Brown’s name on the event program read, “Helping schools build stronger connections with every student.” She’s a speaker, trainer, author who inspires audiences to embrace authentic connections to unleash the potential of young people. She said, “A kid needs five healthy adult relationships to be a successful adult.”

You are good at ________. Five healthy adult relationships. Those words hit me like a neon sign printed in all caps. I had healthy, strong, loving relationships. Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles. But it was a high school teacher and coach who instilled confidence in me as a gangly, awkward teenager and taught me some life lessons.

I grew up in Pickett County where basketball reigned, and still reigns, as the number one sport. Our high school gym was packed for every home game and students vied for a position on the team. Wearing a black and gold Bobcat uniform was a challenge and an honor. As a 9th grader, I was one of the tallest girls to try out for the team, and I’m sure that Coach Elaine Sells, who had been a Pickett County basketball star and had recently graduated from Tennessee Tech, thought she could train me to be a good player.

It was the days when girls’ basketball was played half court. Three players on offense. Three on defense. All I had to do was post up with my back to the goal, catch the ball, and, with a sweeping arc motion, throw the ball into the goal behind me. No dribbling. No fancy footwork. A simple smooth move for a hook shot. But the balls I threw rarely went through the net. Most times, nowhere near the net.

Elaine did her best. She demonstrated the perfect hook shot. She stood in front of me and I mimicked her movements. I practiced hook shots with and without a basketball. After team practices, Elaine worked one on one with me. At home, I stood in front of the basketball goal in our backyard and tried and tried to master a hook shot. For two basketball seasons, I dressed out in uniform and sat on the bench. The few times that I played in games, I hoped that no one would throw me the ball. Not only was I the tallest player on the team, I was the most uncoordinated and the least competitive, but I loved being a team member.

Elaine kept me on the team. Those two years as a player and the next two years as team manager. She had encouraged me to try and work hard. And then she taught me to accept my limitations and use my assets. I was happy to gather towels and basketballs and cheer loudly and encourage my teammates, especially the younger players.

So, this is a public thank you to Elaine for not giving up on a gangly, awkward girl who loved basketball and couldn’t play a lick. Thank you for giving me a job that I could do well and making me feel successful.

Filed under: Inspirational, sports | Tagged: , , , , | Leave a comment »

Ask Questions

Posted on March 4, 2015 by susanrray

search“Why do red lights have those big shields around them?” asked my nine-year-old Grand. I looked up at the red traffic light in front of my van. “Shields?” I asked. David said, “Yes. Look, all three lights have metal around them. Why’s it there?”

I’ve driven for decades and stopped hundreds, no thousands, of times at a red traffic light and never noticed a piece of metal around each of the three colored lights. “Maybe, it’s to make the light look brighter,” I said.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.” The light turned red and I drove under it, only to be stopped by another red light. “Look, those are the same. Do they all have shields?” David asked. I didn’t know. “I think they’re there so the people coming the other way can’t see them,” my Grand said. “You know. From the side. So just the people in front can see them. Or maybe it keeps the snow off of them.”

search   Our guesses seemed logical, but we wanted official answers. According to the Federal Highway Administration’s website, the shields surrounding traffic lights are either louvers or visors. The main purpose is to “improve visibility by providing a contrast between the lens and the signal head.” And “so that an approaching road user can see only the signal lens controlling the movements on the road user’s approach.”  The signals that David asked about are partial or cutaway visors so that snow and water can’t accumulate at the bottom. (If a traffic light were a clock, the space between 5 and 7 isn’t encircled.) This open space also reduces the problem of birds making nests in a visor.

Lou, age 7, sat beside me. We searched for a jigsaw puzzle piece that was blue and green. We’d worked together for thirty minutes putting some of the 750 pieces together to create a scene of hot air balloons. “The piece we want has two outs and two ins,” I said. My Grand jerked her shoulders back, frowned, and said “What?” I held a piece in my hand and explained. “An out is that little knob that fits in the cut out part, the in, of another piece.”

search-1 “Gran, what’s the real names? Not outs and ins!” Lou said. A puzzle history website proved us both correct. The protruding pieces are called tabs or knobs. But I didn’t find a name for what I called an in. However, some people call tabs “outies” and the holes they fit in “innies.” Isn’t that the same as outs and ins?

So now we know why traffic lights have shields and the name of protruding jigsaw puzzle pieces. The answers aren’t nearly as important as the questions. I know from my teaching days that when children ask questions, they are thinking and learning.

This week I read a quote by C. S. Lewis from The Great Divorce. His book’s topic was much deeper than traffic lights and puzzle pieces, but the quote fits. “Once you were a child. Once you knew what inquiry was for. There was a time when you asked questions because you wanted answers and were glad when you had found them. Become that child again: even now.”

It reminds me to never quit asking questions and to notice such everyday things, such as traffic lights.

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Filed under: Grandchildren, Inspirational | Tagged: , , , | Leave a comment »

Love, Janet

Posted on January 21, 2015 by susanrray

start_bg.ny One more Christmas card came in my mailbox today. A card from Huron, Ohio. From Janet Gordon, who became my aunt’s best friend when they were young housewives and raising children.

Aunt Doris and Janet and their husbands developed a friendship that emerged from living far away from their families and in the same neighborhood. It was the late 1940’s. Akron, Ohio. That close relationship continued even after Aunt Doris and Uncle Hugh moved to Tennessee in 1962. The two couples vacationed together and stayed connected through Sunday night telephone calls.

As a kid, I played with Janet’s daughter while visiting Aunt Doris and Uncle Hugh in Akron, and I saw the Gordon family a few times when they visited here in Tennessee. In more recent years, Aunt Doris had shared the Gordon family news with me. Of the four friends, only Janet survives. After Aunt Doris and Uncle Hugh passed away within a month of each other in 2013, Janet’s daughter called me. She said that her mother needed to connect with Doris and Hugh’s family. Janet had talked with my cousin and her daughter asked that I also call her.

Janet and I talked about Aunt Doris keeping up with fashion and her determination to act young. We talked about a time that I played at Janet’s house when I ate too many marshmallows and had a stomachache. Janet lamented that she never thought she’d be the last of the four friends and declared that she was doing well. I hung up the phone and added her name to my Christmas card list.

Janet’s card included a copy of her Christmas letter. She wrote, “2014 has been a happy year for me. I accomplished most of the goals I set for myself. The goal that stands out the most is that I know if I put others first in my life, and try to encourage someone every day, I am happy and able to cope with living alone.” June 2014 was a special time because her granddaughter visited for a week and had a surprise 91st birthday party for her.

In March, Jane fell and required hospital care and caregivers during a three-month recuperation. She learned “to never underestimate what a fall can do to slow you down.” About a mild ischemic stroke that she suffered in November, she wrote “The Good Lord still wants me here as I had help immediately.” She spent four days in the hospital and continues to have speech therapy and the care of a home health nurse twice a week.

Janet ended her letter. “I am doing very well. I will start setting my personal goals for 2015. I wish you and yours joy, peace, and loving warmth as you fellowship with your family and friends. Have a safe, happy, and blessed Christmas. May you have a prosperous 2015.”

She’s 91 and lives alone. After two hospital stays in 2014 and a three month recuperation from a fall and while currently working with a speech therapist and receiving care from home health nurse, Janet is happy and doing well. She accomplished most of her 2014 goals and I’m sure she’s set 2015 goals.

I tucked Janet’s letter under my writing calendar. When there’s a day that I feel the least bit down in the dumps, I’ll read Janet’s words again. And be blessed.

Filed under: Christmas, Friends, Inspirational | Tagged: , , , , | Leave a comment »

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