What????

Two weeks ago last Thursday I made a last-minute unplanned trip to take care of a four-year-old with a stomach bug. My daughter could not get off work, and my son-in-law was in training. I had Friday off anyway, so I threw a day's worth of clothes and my meds into a sack. Rudy had already sensed the phone call from my daughter meant a road trip and he was driving me crazy with his constant jumping and barking. I went ahead and put the little guy into the car to keep him out from under my feet so I could finish getting ready to go.

By dark I was at my daughter's hugging two seemingly healthy granddaughters. The youngest had lost her breakfast that morning, ran a temp, but seemed her normal self. She even had some crackers and Sprite and kept it down. So the next morning, the three healthy ones went to work and to school, and Kaylee and I did a little housework. I decided to cook a nice supper later on, and since Kaylee seemed fine, we took off around 10:30 to do some shopping and grab something to eat for lunch.

Kaylee told me without even giving it any thought that she wanted to eat at McDonald's. When we got to the counter, she asked if she could tell the girl at the counter what she wanted. Sure, I said. She did a fine job telling the girl that she wanted chicken nuggets, apple dippers, and a chocolate milk. I ordered, picked up the tray, and we took a seat in a booth.

Kaylee was her usual talkative self. She asked question after question. And invariably I had trouble hearing what she was asking me. Probably after about the 20th time I asked, "What???" Kaylee looked at me and loud enough for half the restaurant to hear proclaimed, "YOU need a hearing aid!"

I had NO trouble hearing that remark. I also had no trouble later that night when she told me my neck was like a trampoline.

Another Bright Move on my Part

I must be at the point in life where I have no feelings in my legs due to poor circulation. How else could I have not known what I did until it was too late?

At lunch today, I had brought in a couple packages of Eckrich Grillers and some buns to have for lunch. Not all for me...but to share with the less fortunate. You know, the co-workers who were relying on the roach coach to bring them some food. Due to the snow, the roach coach didn't run today. But lucky them...I had 16 grillers and was cooking them for anyone that was hungry, didn't have a lunch with them, or didn't want to get out in the snow to run to Subway or the caf.

I microwaved both packages to bring them to room temperature to speed up the process a bit. Then I threw four at a time into the little sandwich maker I keep at work. I keep the sandwich maker on top of one of the lunchroom microwaves. Ever so often, I'd turn the grillers to get a nice even brown on all sides. As I stood near the microwave, I backed up a little so my coworkers could use the microwave.

Against the wall near the microwave is a five-gallon bottle of water with a pump/spigot attached to the top. The bottle sits on a chair, for lack of a table to put it on. The room temp water is used to make coffee. I knew it was there.

After a minute or two, I began to feel something slightly cool, but very wet on the back of my left foot. I turned around to find the entire back of the left leg of my heavy knit slacks completely drenched with water. I had backed up a little too far, opened up the spigot, and soaked myself. I mean, the floor behind me was even wet.

The room was full of people, and I was at the far end of the room. Besides, I was the chef for the multitude. So I made an announcement and turned around to show them my soaking wet leg. It was the laugh of the day.

It wasn't too comfortable sitting around all afternoon in wet pants, but they eventually got dry before I had to head home. And it still wasn't as bad as the time I sat down on a huge cup of iced tea, then had to go teach a Windows class with a soaking wet behind.

Good move, Helen

Just a Good Ol' Boy

About 37 years ago, I heard a knock on the door. Newly-married and not used to having anyone knock on the door of our home, I peeked through the glass to be on the safe side. On the porch stood a local policeman. I knew who he was, but just barely. I couldn't imagine why Joe was there.

With a big smile on his face, he held out a check. "Ma'am, would you sign this?" I looked closer at the check. It was the one I had written for my water bill, and apparently didn't bother signing. I signed the check, handed it back to him, and thanked Officer Gee.

I've talked to Joe a few times in the 37 years I've lived in Loogootee. I can't recall ever seeing him without that familiar smile. He had a way of putting a person at ease and making you feel like you've known him forever. After a few years on the police department, and serving as the chief of police, Joe ran for sheriff of Martin County--and won.

During his tenure as sheriff, Joe would bring the "chain gang" from the county jail to the post prom setups and teardowns. We loved it when they showed up. Without complaints, they did all of our heavy hauling and high-climbing for us. We always bragged on their efforts, and they always smiled back. You could tell it was a pleasure for them to get out of jail for a few hours and do something besides sitting in their cells.

My Aunt Margi used to cook for the county jail, and her good home cooking coupled with Sheriff Gee's gentle ways and smiling face, I imagined it to be real similar to Aunt Bea's cooking and Sheriff Taylor's jail in Mayberry.

Joe Gee died on December 23rd. His last wish was to come back home to die. I heard that he hadn't been home from the hospital very long when he passed away. But at least he made it back home and was in the loving arms of his family. I personally know how important that is. It's hard to imagine Loogootee without Joe Gee. He's been an integral part of this town and this county for many years. How's the saying go? "A pillar of the community"? Yep, that was Joe.

Everyone knew him, and apparently everyone thought the world of him. I stood in line two hours to pay my respects to Joe, his wife, and Joe's kids. It was worth the wait to see Joe once again in his sheriff's uniform. That was the way he'd want to be dressed for this occasion.

Thank you, Officer Gee, for the many years of community service...from driving unsigned checks around town to rehabilitating members of our community that needed a second chance. I'm sure Loogootee will look after your family just like you looked after us.

Rest in peace. We'll miss you.

Things that Strike Me Funny...

I rarely laugh at jokes. Very few of them are funny enough to me to even earn a smirk. What I think is funny are life's little embarrassing moments, even when they're my own.

Some years back I had taken a job at a publishing company just to get off unemployment. We were forced to take a full hour for lunch, so every day I'd run to a fast-food restaurant rather than eat a sack lunch at an old kitchen table in the same room as a noisy printing press. I frequented Arby's much of the time, and always sat on a padded bench that ran the entire width of the place. When it was time to leave, I'd scoot on the bench until I was between tables, then unceremoniously get up, pick up my trash, throw it away, and go out the door. Simple, huh...

After six months of typing boring 4-H results and "what happened 25 years ago" (like anyone in Washington cared), I got a job in Jasper on an IT team. Before I conjured up lunch buddies, I still went to lunch by myself. One day I headed to the Jasper Arby's. It was set up just like the one in Washington...benches along the far width of the restaurant with tables.

I headed to the spot I usually occupied at an Arby's--the old dependable and comfortable bench. I really didn't notice the one big difference between the Washington Arby's and the Jasper Arby's--that is, the bench at Washington was one solid bench. At Jasper, they had benches--not one single bench. There was about two feet of space between benches.

I scooted in and started eating, noticing the place was empty except for me and a table with two ladies about 20 feet ahead of me. Once I consumed my roast beef, fries, and drink I loaded the trash onto the tray and scooted down the bench to the area between the tables.

Thinking I was on the solid bench, I scooted my big butt right into the space between the benches. Down I went. In a desperate attempt to not hit the floor, I grabbed for the table. And as pedestal tables do, it tipped. Due to the nature of gravity, everything on the table came sliding on top of me. I was trying to catch salt, pepper, trash, and the cheesy bud vase with the cheap silk flowers.

It worked. Although I was sitting on the floor, I did manage to keep everything from landing on my lap. I shoved everything back onto the table, stood up, and looked around to see who witnessed my clumsiness. The two ladies were still eating their lunch, oblivious to me...or that's what I thought.

When I walked past the two ladies, I heard snickering. I looked down to see both of them trying to stifle their laughter. All I could say was, "You saw that, didn't you?" The girls could hold it in no longer.  The snickers turned into full-fledged laughter.  And that's all it took to give me my laugh for the day.

...and I never forgot that the benches at those two Arby's were different from each other.

All I Want for Christmas...

A few years back whenever someone would ask me what I wanted for Christmas, I'd always say, "You can't buy what I want for Christmas"...funny thing was, nobody ever asked me what that one thing was. Maybe they knew. All I wanted for Christmas was to have my Dad back.

I guess I've gotten used to him being gone, but I won't quit missing him--ever. I suppose I'll be back with him soon enough. Time goes mighty fast these days.

This year I have two Christmas dreams coming true. I've wanted to be a grandma for a long time. I finally saw that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, and after 9/11, I was fine with it. I didn't want any more kids brought into a world that has people on it that can do something so despicable. Too scary. Too awful.

But God had a big plan for our family. There were two reasons I never became a grandma. God saw that two little girls--sisters--were living a life far less than perfect. He needed to rescue these two; and a year ago, He found a home that had plenty of room for romping and giggles. That home belongs to my daughter and son-in-law.

Wednesday the State of Indiana will declare my daughter and son-in-law the parents of these two sweethearts. Our hearts declared that a year ago--we just had to wait for the paperwork to catch up.

Welcome to our family, Stasey Renee and Kaylee Rose! You've completed our lives!

Love,
Your Grandma

Thanksgiving (or "Thank Heaven for Little Girls")

My first Thanksgiving as a grandma. For some reason, the song "Over the River and Thru the Woods" comes to mind. It's my favorite holiday--all the food there is to eat with none of that gift-giving getting in the way of eating. The day started a little sunny, which just isn't a typical Thanksgiving day in Indiana. But before we ate at 12:30, the skies were gray and the windows steamed up from all the cooking and baking. Perfect. Just like Granny C's Thanksgivings, where we'd arrive to find noodles drying on a TV tray on the screened porch, and the windows all steamy from the morning of cooking. It was always gray and dreary outside, which made for a wonderful entrance into Granny's warm, aromatic home.

We had all the traditional food...turkey, dressing, Rita's homemade noodles, two kinds of sweet potatoes, real mashed potatoes with giblet gravy, Waldorf salad, cranberry relish, garden corn, and rolls. I made my famous pumpkin pies and peanut butter pies for dessert. The entire family was there, except for my husband who was joining his family. Mark said "Grace" and added his usual prayer for our troops.

The granddaughters enjoyed their first Thanksgiving with their new family. The youngest thinks nobody compares to Uncle Bobby, and the oldest has a special bond with Aunt Rita. But if you ask them whose girl they are, invariably they'll say they're everyone's girls. Such sweethearts. I can't imagine how hard their young lives had been up until the time they arrived at my daughter and son-in-law's. I can't imagine how children can be so resilient. Sure, there are times in everyone's childhood when things aren't what they should be. A little of that is fine--it teaches you that life is what it is--a mixture of good and bad. But it shouldn't be all bad.

So this past Thanksgiving for the first time ever...I thanked God for steering these precious girls our way.

Center Grove High School Class of 1971

I've been too busy to write.

Thanks to Facebook, I'm getting reacquainted with my old Center Grove classmates of 1971. That's right...get out your calculators and do the math.

Last Friday night I made a quick trip to Greenwood to meet up with two 1971 classmates and several 1972 and 1973 CG graduates. I took my yearbook to help me remember. I'd get the name of one of the younger classmates, then look it up. Then I remembered--well, most of the time I remembered. One of the "under" classmates needed no introduction. I'd have known Jan anywhere.

The Riley kids rode Harry Featherston's first busload to the school. Since we arrived at school super-early, we sat in the gym and waited for the rest of the students to arrive. Jan rode Harry's second busload. An hour or so later she arrived with the rest of the bus, and she looked pale as a ghost. I asked her what happened. She said that Harry died. They had pulled into the CG front parking lot, headed towards the old middle school when Harry just "went". He evidently never knew what hit him since he never had a chance to brake. The bus kept heading toward the middle school. A 12-year-old farm kid pushed Harry out of the way and got the bus stopped.

Harry was not only our bus driver, but a neighbor. In the country, a neighbor might live a quarter mile down the gravel road--just like Harry. The day we lost Harry was sure a sad day. Back then bus drivers didn't have to have buses equipped with cameras. We respected Harry and our school bus. We respected our school. I can't always say we respected each other, since my little brother and a goofy kid named "Gopher" nearly got into a fight on Harry's bus once. I stepped between them and stopped the fight before it began. That wasn't going to happen "on my watch".

Back to the three-class reunion...my two classmates looked way younger than me. They still had their figures and the same personalities they had as teenagers. I was so glad to see both of them. I used to be self-conscious about weighing twice what I did in high school. To heck with that--I've finally realized that nobody cares...at least nobody I graduated with.

This weekend I plan on meeting another couple of classmates. We've missed out on many years, and I am not missing out on any more. I haven't seen my best friend in 25 years, and that's a rotten shame. I hope God gives us many more years to enjoy each other's company from here on out. I won't let anything else stand in the way of a friendship again.

I also plan on a road trip to Arkansas to see another old friend and classmate. Life hasn't been too kind to her, but her old classmates are resurfacing to let her know she's always been loved and never forgotten.

We've found out that several of our classmates have passed on, and several others are not well. That makes me feel even more determined to make sure the rest of us get together as often as possible.

Thank you, Facebook.