The Dead-End Biker Gang

My two teenagers belong to a gang and honestly I couldn't be happier about that!  It's a biker gang, as in bicycle bikers, and the gang formed up last summer, our first summer here.  The most recent meeting of the Dead-End Biker Gang was about a half hour ago when I captured them before they took off on a summer ride:

Dead End Biker Gang: Tom, Davis, Steve, Derek 

The two wearing regular glasses are my guys and the two with the cool sunglasses are the boys from next door, Derek and Davis.  Derek and Davis are several years younger than my 19 and 17 year olds - they haven't even reached their teenage years.  But the maturity and compassion of those two younger ones - oh my goodness!!!  As cool as those sunglasses are, the boys wearing them are even cooler!

My guys, Steve and Tom, just learned how to ride last summer - at the very end of summer. Their summer actually began with a weeklong special iCan Bike camp hosted by a local special rec association in early June.  During those sessions I would watch the campers and their trained Bike Buddies work through their paces using the camp's specially-designed roller bikes and then advance to the non-roller bikes with the handles on the back.  Training wheels were never part of the "curriculum."  The goal was for each camper to ride a two wheel bicycle without training wheels by himself or herself by the end of the week.

The camp buddies - sometimes three to a camper - ran or at least walked fast alongside the biker-in-training in the big gym- all the while holding that back handle of the bikes. It was impressive to watch.  By the end of the week, the campers and their steadiers must have gone about a million miles!  My two campers did ALL of their miles inside the gym - they were the only two who didn't progress enough to "graduate" and ride on the outdoor track by week's end. I don't know if it was their Down syndrome that kept them in the exclusive just-in-the-gym group (they were the only two in that group and the only two at the camp with Down syndrome), but on that last day the staff offered solid advice to me.  Have them practice every day on the bikes I had just purchased for them which followed the camp's recommendations - the top two being: 1) the wheel size should allow the rider to sit on the seat while having his feet flat on the ground and 2) the special steadying handle should be installed on the backs of their bikes.

So with the whole summer in front of us, the very next day after camp ended, out we went in our backyard with its gentle slope down to the flat open grassy area - perfect for getting the bike practice underway. Steve and Tom - on their camp-approved bikes wearing their camp-approved helmets, practiced every summer evening after supper, turn after turn one after the other (I think I ran and fast-walked about a zillion miles!).  With those first practices being behind our house Derek and Davis could see what was going on from their backyard and in no time at all came over and joined in by cheering the grass-riders on.  That was the ticket right there - that cheering on from friends.  Really cool friends!!

Practices soon moved from the grassy backyard to the front sidewalk and then to the small section of street in front of our houses that goes a little ways before it deadends at the prairie.  Derek and Davis always cheering them on and riding alongside on their bikes and even taking a turn at the handle-holding-steadying job.  The Dead-End Biker Gang was born!  More nights than I could count the sun would set and the glow would linger a bit and that Dead-End Biker Gang would still be riding and cheering and not wanting to quit.  And guess what - both Steve and Tom, many sunsets after the Dead-End Biker Gang had ganged up and about a week before school was to begin last August, the boys with Down syndrome rode their bikes free and fast right into the last sunset of summer! It was really cool!  Thanks to their really cool friends!

This one umbrella

Goodness... it's been awhile since I've been here in the blog world - I was over in the website world this whole time!  Trying to create one.  What a thing that is!  And what a world the webworld is!  It's mind-boggling - I don't think I'll ever NOT be boggled by  it!

So here's what I do know - creating a website is very tricky.  I absolutely, without a doubt, completely understand why it's called a website - it's just like a spider web.  Tangly, thready, sticky, delicate and if the early morning sun gets to glance off and shine through the dew drops stuck on it, why it's just a beautiful thing! And spiders, while they're doing all that creating, make it look so easy.  But when a butterfly, for instance, gets the idea to make a web, yikes.  

At any rate, the Upside of Downs website is now up and running - and it's come a long way since the "reweaving" of it began a few weeks ago!  It had a few mushed up, super sticky, I-just-ran-into-a-cobweb-in-the-haunted-house-and-this-sticky-thready-thing-is-all-over-my-face-and-it's-super-icky moments, but hopefully those are gone now.  

"Helping Others UP from their DOWN"

The Upside of Downs is a not-for-profit 501 (c)(3) fundraising/charitable organization my family and I founded awhile ago.  The mission of the Upside of Downs?   It exists in order to support the many others who are challenged in the various ways that our own family has also been challenged - simply put, to help others "up" from their "down."  What with all the experience with our own special needs children and caring for parents with Alzheimer's and having several adult children serving in the military, we feel closely tied to their challenges and their blessings, their struggles, their gifts, and the amazing heroic spirit present in each one of them.  These members of my own family are the inspiration for the Upside of Downs and its "umbrella" mission: to reach out and help all special needs heroes, and those affected by Alzheimer's, and military veterans wounded while serving. The Upside of Downs upholds an umbrella for these three hero groups.  

Here's how we do that umbrella holding.  First we raise funds through fundraising events and the awesome website donation button you'll find in the website -  www.upsideofdowns.org (there's also information in there on how to donate the old-fashioned way, a check in the mail).  And then we pay it forward - to organizations that align with the Upside of Downs vision of protecting, caring, researching, and advocating for the umbrella heroes such as (these are our most recent recipients): the Wounded Warrior Project, Special Olympics, Alzheimer's Association, Semper Fi Fund, Travis Manion Foundation, Cure Alzheimer's Fund, and the FVSRFoundation (a local special needs recreation association).  These organizations provide the hands-on help in our common mission and the ones for which we gladly, and stubbornly in a butterfly-weaving-a-spider-web way, provide monetary support in order to pay it forward to the heroes under the umbrella. 

All right then, that's it for now - I've got to get lunch ready for the school's-out-for-the-summer gang - which reminds me - wherever you find things that really work in the website, that was USNA Midshipman second class Jack Meier's doing! He was home on a short summer leave and devoted his down time, lots of it  (with extreme grace and patience I might add) to the launching of the Upside of Downs website!  

Until next time, you all take care and God bless!

Ahhhh...The rain finally came



"Smiling Rain Cloud" by Tom Meier

So about a week ago Tom brought his "Smiling Rain Cloud" project home from school - it was end-of-the-year-clean-out-the-classroom time.  I was impressed with his work, very impressed; the fine motor skills he had used to create it made me smile - in a similar fashion as his cotton-faced cloud - so I hung it up. 
The week went by - busy and increasingly hot and humid - and summer vacation for the boys finally arrived a couple days ago.  I love this time of year; I love having my boys around all day so that adventures can just happen - we don't have to be so hemmed in by the clock or the calendar when summer vacation arrives.  So rarin' to go we all are, let's get this party started, school's out, school's out, SCHOOL'S OUT!!!  YAAAAHHH!!!!

But then, uh oh... NOOOOOO!!!  This can't be!!!  NOT NOW!!!!  The boys are in their first day of FREEDOM and SUMMER FUN and RANDOMLY TIMED ADVENTURES....  No, no, no, no, no!!

But there was no stopping it, there is never any Stopping It.  That was two days ago. 

"It" is this thing that happens to me when a drastic change in temperature is coming in the next couple days.  And some kind of precipitation, usually lots of it, big old snowstorms or rainstorms or rain soakers are part of the deal too.  I feel it.  I don't need a meteorologist or radar or anything like that to tell me - it's crazy, I know, and it's all in my head.  But then that's where crazy usually is, so it makes sense.  It's a storm's-coming-bomb-in-the-head that blows up and hurts like crazy.  And in just half of my head - so I guess I should be grateful for that that it's not my whole head.  But in the days leading up to the release of all that rain or whatever is about to fall out of the sky, grateful for 1/2 a head not exploding isn't what I am.  Half my face puffs up, the one nostril runs, the one ear hurts like crazy, the back of my head - 1/2 of it only - oweee - the other half wants to run away, and 1/4 of my teeth hurt - the upper half on the exploding side.  I don't know what this is, I don't know if there's a name for it other than crazy-storm-predicting-osis - but it's definitely a thing for me and has been for quite some time.  Maybe it has something to do with a drastic change in atmospheric pressure - I don't know BUT I do know this - the rain finally came about an hour ago and the smile on the cotton-faced cloud hanging in my window is matching mine - once again!!  And so let the adventures begin!!!



Greedy Grandma Syndrome

Greedy grandma and her sweet faraway grandbaby 

Right when I'm done here I'm off to the grocery store - but I've got a couple minutes and some coffee in one of my favorite mugs, and I've got something to say:  I LOVE being Mom but being a Grandma - that's what I'm having a hard time with - a really hard time. 

I suspect most Grandmas who live far from their grandchildren feel the same exact way.  In my case, my heart actually aches on account of this - I mean I can feel it hurting deep inside - that sounds all dramatic and medical and what not - but it's the truth.  Not seeing my only grandbaby and not lifting her up in the swing and giving her a little push or handing her the bananas to put in the grocery cart or changing her or reading her books or baking cookies with her or stomping around in mud after a good rain or dancing with her in the family room on a Wednesday morning just because - not being able to do those and a million other daily things - that's what I'm grumbling about. 

I just absolutely, beyond what may be considered reasonable, love the dailiness and the work and the hands-on-help kind of life.  Being a "visit" Grandma - I don't love that - I'm terrible at it.  Helping babies, toddlers, children, adolescents every day in very useful and simple ways - and some complicated ways too - for the past 31 years that's what I know and love with all my heart.  But this every once in awhile "visit" business where the visits are few and far between and blink-of-an-eye brief - not good, not now - not at 57 years old - maybe at 157 years old.  Maybe.

I'm not positive but that just might put me smack dab in the greedy-middle-aged-lady category: I mean, c'mon - I have six children - four in the grown-on-their-own-out-in-the-world-doing-wonderful-things-serving-those-in-need category and then my two special needs teenagers, Steve and Tom, in the at-home-and-doing-well category  - yet - I want more.  Or rather less - as in less distance, 1000 or so miles ought to do it - between my grandbaby and me.  That way I could scoop that sweet little girl up right now and take her to the grocery store so she could put bananas in the cart and then we'd return to Grandma's house to dance in the family room a bit.  And then, I don't know, maybe we'd even make some cookies.  Hmm...that would be great.

Okay, coffee's gone so off to the store I go.

Til next time, take care and God bless.

Mother's Day Letter

Mother's Day is almost here - only a couple more days to go.  I wished I could've found a nice card or two for my daughter, but I couldn't.  For the life of me I just couldn't find the right one at the store the other day.  My daughter's a Mom in her late 20's married to a wonderful man and together they have a little girl not yet two years old and another baby girl due in July.  I'd dearly love to see her and her sweet little family and spend the entire day with them but they live over a thousand miles away, a 20 hour drive one way.  As distant as that sounds, and it is a ways away, it's not as far away as where they lived before.  That far-flung place was an ocean away plus the 2,000 miles of land one had to cross before even getting to that ocean.  Oh goodness, sometimes it feels as if that little family lives on the moon.  Anyway, back to the card buying escapade.  During my entire search, I saw not a single card in that fully-stocked, overflowing card aisle at the store that fit.

Some of them came sort of close - I even had a couple in the cart, but then there was something that didn't sound right, that didn't ring true, and back they went.  All the cards for daughters who are Moms I examined very closely - this way and that, words, pictures, even the sounds/music of the noisy greeting cards.  But not a single one was right. All the examining and interpreting and mulling took way too long in my son Steve's eyes, my shopping buddy, and everyone else's eyes too who happened by.  So there it is - I just couldn't find a Mother's Day card for my daughter. 

Now this may be a bit awkward for everyone, my daughter, you, me -  but I'm going to do it anyway.  I'm using this blog space today for her Mother's Day greeting from me.  The things I say here are 100% true.  It might not seem like it if you don't know my daughter, but for me to fill you in and give details and specifics about her wouldn't be prudent.  Moms of military daughters learn this.  And sometimes the Moms have to write a greeting letter when the cards at the store don't say the right things! 
  

Dear Daughter, 

Over the years there have been so many times that I've been completely awestruck by you.  And even more times than that I've been inspired by you.  This happens whether you're half way round the world following orders or on a rare visit home, in my kitchen making a batch of amazing cookies.  It matters not, the time or place, you inspire me.  Even though I'm 30 years older than you,  you've taught me, no, no, make that shown me, by your example - never by force or  harsh word - how to live life gracefully and to the fullest.  You've been a beacon guiding me.  You can't help but shine, you shine all the time.  And I see it. 



                                                                       Aug.'13

You, dear girl, have been through impossible situations in your lifetime - impossible from my perspective.  I'll never, ever experience those particular impossible things in my life.  And you've come through with grace and quiet strength. You make it look smooth, easy, somehow.  How do you do that?  Me?  I'd be squawking and flapping and running around in awful circles.  

Your journey, as a civilian and in the military, has looked so unwaveringly graceful to me.  So graceful and so generous.  I've seen from a distance your journey, that road of yours, riddled with potholes, jagged boulders, impossibly steep climbs, no guardrails on the descent, in foreign lands, on American soil.  Your "road" has been washed out at times, completely impassable, yet on you go, you find a way, uncomplainingly, somehow, some way, always.  And something else, seeing to others' troubles before dealing with or even realizing that you are in some sort of peril yourself is as natural as drawing breath to you. It's you.

From my perspective what you've done in life and how you've done it  - with grace and selflessness and humility -  is magical.  You're like a great magician who does impossible things before my very eyes, right in front of me, and I can't now nor will I ever figure it out.  I am in awe of you, I am inspired by you, humbled and forever blessed by you.


Happy Mother's Day Daughter!  Love, Mom

Semper Fi

I haven't written a thing here in the  Family Room for OVER a WEEK!  But I've got excuses... all kinds of excuses!  In short -  Life just kept happening at a break-neck pace around here, one day after the other with no time for writing anything except maybe the grocery lists - of which there were many - one to guide each of my several grocery shopping adventures to accommodate each of the several special eating occasions  - these past eight days. 

It seems that the 8 days that've passed since being here in the Family Room have been like, well, let's see... a tug-of-war?  Or maybe more like a tornado?  Or, I know, like a couple Gigantic Magnets pulling in completely opposite directions.  Whatever it's been like I do know this - these days have been: amazing, sad, scary, heart-wrenching.  And ...they've been filled with laughter, tears, rain, sunburn.  There were birthday celebrations, a prom, Special Olympics Spring Games Track & Field Day, a biopsy, IEP meeting, piano performance, bowling practice, a movie matinee outing, field trips and yesterday. 

Yesterday, the Day I Was Filled With Emptiness.  It was an awful feeling and quite shameful for me to feel that way, but shameful or not, I felt filled with emptiness. Being filled with emptiness sounds dumb and... it is dumb. But that's how I felt - yesterday.   Today in the light of this sun-splashed May First blue sky day, I'm actually embarrassed to think I could EVER feel empty... ever - but I did.  For awhile - a wallowing while. 

And this is why, early yesterday morning, this guy pictured here in an old photo taken a couple years back (the guy in the middle, in uniform) left - for good.  We all knew this day was coming and as it turns out it arrived later than originally scheduled; it's the old "hurry up and wait" aspect of military life this family has come to know.

August 2013 - PLC Graduation

This son's orders (coming a year after his college graduation/commissioning in the Marine Corps) were the reason for his departure yesterday. Shortly after breakfast and after seeing his two youngest brothers off to school for the last time, with his car packed with uniforms, boots, paperwork, his computer and a few meager belongings, he drove away - leaving his full-time civilian job of the past year, his two youngest brothers, his Dad, me, home - for good this time. For a good, long time.  He is now in the category of "our kids who only visit us" (that would be 4 of the 6) and the sub-category of "our kids who only visit us when Uncle Sam approves" (that's been 3 of those 4).

As Mom to 3 military kids, it's been awesome and awful at the same time throughout the years.  And yesterday the shameful, embarrassing, feeling sorry for myself, "awful" completely overshadowed the "awesome"-  with a big, dark, self-serving stupid old shadow.  It was all about the nothingness I heard at 5:00 when he'd normally be coming in the door from work, and then that terrible empty spot I sat across from at the dinner table at 6:00, and later around 9:00 the rotten lack of shenanigans I didn't witness as I readied his younger brothers for bed - it was awful and left me filled with emptiness. 

But today - I got about the business of not wallowing, not being so selfish in my perspective, and not letting "awful" win the day.  How ridiculous - "awful" winning the day.  Honestly, there is just too much awesome in all of this.  My son is doing what he's meant to do, what he's trained for and he's worked for for a long time.  He's serving our country, protecting and defending those of us here at home, putting others before himself, and all the while willing to put himself in harm's way to accomplish that.  So my being all selfish and whatnot?  That's not cool.  I'm done with my wallowing!

Take care all and God bless!
Karen



Semper Fi

April 23 - Throwback Thursday

1910...2014
A Welcome Sight

That - right over there - that picture of the Statue of Liberty - isn't that neat?  I think it's neat. I love how Lady Liberty's arm reaches up to the sky and how she holds that light for all to see.  And the way her robe drapes around her so gracefully and simply - I love that.  That graceful, simply dressed lady has welcomed thousands, millions, to our American shores over the years right there in New York Harbor.  She's been a welcome sight to the immigrants and visitors and vacationers and the travelers coming back home. For many who see this sight for the first time, including me decades ago, we just can't seem to help those goose bumps that bump up on our arms, the lump that gets in our throat, or our heart skipping a beat or two.  And the tears - oh the tears - that just kind of come out in that sting-ey, surprising kind of way.  The Statue of Liberty just has that effect. I consider myself lucky to have seen this sight those many years ago while on vacation with my husband and three of our six children; the other three hadn't been born yet.  Now of those three, one was able to at last take this sight in last year, when he was 20.  He's the one who took the picture you see here.

So, it was during last summer, after having been tossed around in some rough seas aboard the Brave (a small sailing vessel) and having seen no land for awhile, that my son Jack, a United States Naval Academy midshipman on summer training, laid eyes on this sight for the very first time and was he glad of that.  It was welcoming, it was inspiring, it was safe.  On that August day in 2014, Jack joined in a sort of bonding-like way with the thousands of folks who've seen this welcome sight for the first time as they've sailed or steamed into those very same harbor waters.  Jack's great-grandfather (my Grandpa) Soren Andersen is one of those folks. In 1910 he'd left his family and small village in Denmark in order to serve his apprenticeship in the building trade here in America.  Grandpa Andersen was a Danish immigrant aboard that steamer, the Copenhagen vessel Oscar III.  He steamed his way across the Atlantic to a bright new future along with a couple hundred other people.  During their 14 day crossing they shared stories, meals, chess games, and the occasional accordion concert below deck.  I remember Grandpa saying that the journey went pretty smoothly, all things considered, and that the crew and the immigrant passengers were "pretty well organized." He did say that when he saw the Statue of Liberty come into view that day in 1910, he was glad.  It was a safe, welcome, very inspiring sight to him.

Now not only do my Grandpa and my son share this bond of seeing-the-Statue-of-Liberty-for-the-very-first-time-from-the-New-York-harbor-waters, they also share the age they were at the time - Grandpa was 20 when he immigrated. And guess what else? These two share a birthday - TODAY!  April 23rd! On Throwback Thursday!  Soren Andersen in 1890 and Jack in 1994. 

If grandpa were still alive he'd be celebrating his 125th today alongside his newly 21 year old great-grandson Jack!  It'd be the long-ago meeting up with the here-and-now and finding they'd have a ton in common.  Kind of gives me goose bumps - and a lump in my throat!  

Even though these two members of my family never did have the chance to meet in person (they missed each other by about 11 years), it seems they might have met in spirit somewhere along the line, they just have so much in common - from their April 23rd birthday to their  Statue of Liberty sighting through their 20 year old eyes to their sea-faring adventures and their military service (Grandpa served too, during WWI in the US Army), and a whole host of other things.  The way I see it, one is almost like a throwback version of the other.  And another thing I see is a bit of family resemblance in those two! 




Soren Andersen - April 23, 1890

 Jack Meier - April 23, 1994
 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GUYS!

God Bless you both!





You don't have to see it to believe it!

 

 

4-14-15 Frog Family Room

Tiny frogs with huge voices live just beyond my backyard in the marshy, gooshy overflowing pond place out there.  I think it's so crazy that these tiny frogs are known as the Spring Peepers. Exactly who was it in charge of naming them anyway?  I mean, these are really, extremely loud creatures.  These tiny frogs do not peep - they

 

SING!

LOUDLY! 

 

The frog experts claim this tiny little thing when singing chorus style with his friends and family can be heard a mile or more away - now that's just not peeping.

I was just now outside in the marsh hoping to see at least one of these mighty, yet tiny, frogs who make crazy loud frog songs  - but I didn't catch a glimpse - not a one!  And I was out there for quite a while - searching around in the goosh.  But I heard them all right!   I'm thinking anyone could - from really far away!  But see one?  Just one?  Just a hint of a glimpse, a ripple, a tiny splash?  Nothing!  No sighting of the tiny little creature weighing about a tenth of an ounce with the scientific name of "crucifer" - so named for the cross-like marking on its tiny back.

The little frog's BIG song, though, I was able to capture in a video and post on my facebook page.  (I'm still trying to figure out how to post that video here...)  At any rate, while I was standing very still out there, and then crouching and crunching a little bit through the dried reeds, with my camera in hand attempting to SEE at least one of these creatures, I realized  I don't have to see the one with the cross on his back to know he's out there.  It's just really obvious!

So okay, just a quick entry today, lots of stuff to do before my boys get home from school.   Take care everybody and, if you get a minute, stop and listen for those unmistakable songs of spring.  They're so loud and full of new life - they're just the best!

Born on April Fool's Day

I'm pretty sure that a few days ago my Dad celebrated his April Fool's birthday -- even though he passed away over four years ago. 

During his time on earth birthdays were always cause for celebration and with his birthday on April First -  that was double cause for fun.  As a little girl I remember him leaving the house on his birthday mornings to head to the newspaper office on Main Street and he would wonder aloud about what craziness his staff would have in store for him this time.  He'd shake his head, chuckle, straighten his tie and leave for a day of good-natured April fool pranks - he was always a good-natured target for those April 1st birthday pranks.  Mr. Andersen (that's what most everyone in town called him) just was good-natured all the time - which turns the old stereotype of the curmudgeony newspaper editor quite upside down.  Mr. Andersen's positive, good-natured outlook was unstoppable.

And now, I'm thinking, something as final as death couldn't, didn't, stop my Dad.  He was, up to the very last, someone who would see the glass more than half full, someone who put others first, someone who had firm convictions about important matters.  And small matters as well, like his tie-wearing.  He was adamant about putting on a tie every day - right on up to the last.  That man put every ounce of his faith and effort and passion into whatever he happened to be engaged in at the time.  For those who knew him from his vibrant, out-there-doing-everything-for-the-community years, Mr. Andersen was unstoppable.  And in his final years, the Alzheimer's years, you would think that that Unstoppableness would have vanished right along with his memory.  But it didn't. I saw his unstoppableness every day as he lived out his last years under my roof.  I saw not just tiny remnants of this man's dedication and commitment to a cause, I saw gigantic, all-consuming, the-most-important-thing-in-all-the-whole-world, heart-wrenching unstoppable commitment to THE important matter - the only one that remained clear through the fog of the Alzheimer's years - his caring and comforting of his WWII bride.  He was unstoppable in that. 

This WWII soldier with the April 1st birthday married his sweetheart during a furlough from the Army in 1945.  He and his sweetheart, a young enlisted woman with the Women's Army Corps, were stationed at the same stateside base.  On their wedding day in '45 he promised to love, honor, and cherish her in sickness and in health, all the days of his life.  All the days of his life.  And he did.  He never once broke that promise - through their 65 years together on earth. He was unstoppable in that mission - even in the last years of his life when he had trouble remembering his sweetheart's name or why she never got up out of the hospital-type bed to eat a meal or sit by him on the couch.  Severe osteoarthritis had kept her down for years - but he, even through the haze of his Alzheimer's, tried valiantly to keep her spirits up, to express his unstoppable dedication to her even when his words and sentences had gone to some foreign land that none of us knew about.  It was beautiful and heart-wrenching to see - this man whose livelihood and passion had been all about words and sentences and communicating.  He had been throughout his life, in the military and then as a civilian, unstoppable in his communicating along with his adherence to some mighty high ideals.  Nothing could stop Sgt. Andersen or Mr. Andersen from taking the high road, even when others pointed out that high road's obvious foolishness.  He just remained on that high road, forging ahead.  Always. 

So how this man somehow through the tangled up and misfiring neurons in his brain - sat at the bedside of his sweetheart and tried to figure out words and find words to honor her and comfort her - it was something to see. Her refusal to accept his Alzheimer's diagnosis resulted in some frustrated and angry outbursts she'd direct at him. Confusion, sadness would cloud his face momentarily, but then, in practically the blink of an eye, the cloud on his face and in his mind would pass and that unstoppable devotion and love would shine just as brightly as ever. Because he was no longer able to retrieve the words that were once the tools of his trade, he would reach for her hand instead and hold it gently in his, "foolishly" honoring his long-ago promise. 

As this pair of WWII veterans' caregiver for a number of their last years, I learned much - about them as a couple, about them as separate people, and about the circle of life.  In those last  years I saw things that couldn't possibly be true - but they were.  I saw with my very own eyes a forever April Fool unstoppably in love.

Mom passed away a few weeks ago, a little more than four years after my Dad. Now they are reunited - Mr. and Mrs. Andersen, that old couple, those long ago soldiers side by side once again.  He's holding her hand and he's wearing his tie.  I'm thinking he's still seeing the glass more than half full and he's found all those good and important words that had gone missing in his last years on earth, the words that always brought comfort and honor to his sweetheart, his bride.

I know she missed him terribly these past four years - and eventually, before she passed, she'd replaced the regret she had had over her angry outbursts with memories of all his unstoppable "foolishness" that had endeared him to her in the first place.  So I'm thinking yeah, there was a mighty fine happy celebration last week, on Dad's birthday - April Fool's Day. 

Still Growing Up

I'm 57 years old and that is a true fact, at least according to important official raised-seal type documents.  But what do they know - dusty, papery, yellowed documents.  The truer fact is I don't FEEL Fifty-Seven.  Fifty-seven feels a lot older than this.  Right?   I mean I thought I'd be a whole lot wiser by now and way more knowledgeable as to how the world really works.  Oh, and I thought I'd be really mature by now too with really mature and sophisticated opinions that I could pass off as Facts at the drop of a hat.  And I certainly thought I'd be a good bit more cynical and way less gullible and definitely prone to over-analyzing everything and being a giant scoffer of things.  But, that isn't what's going on. Yet.  Maybe it will sometime later, on down the road, but for now I'd have to say that at 57 years old, I'm still growing up. 

This was again made crystal clear, this being fifty-seven but not feeling like it, just a couple days ago when I was at a matinee movie with my on-spring-break-son Steve.  He and I were on a "date"  -  lunch and a movie, just the two of us, 57 year old mother and 19 year old son with Down syndrome. This sort of outing with my Steve is rare.  Lots of dominoes have to be in the right place for this to fall just right.  A two hour block of time is one domino.  Another domino is the absence of the impromptu, inexplicable stomach ailment as the young movie-goer settles into his seat in the theater. Yet another domino is the movie itself, specifically, the rating of the movie. 

As a rule, PG, maybe PG-13, is about as risky as we go when venturing to the movie theater with Steve or his 17 year old brother Tom.  It's on account of their propensity for parroting spicy words and R-rated phrases!  The two of them, teenagers with Down syndrome, have a spicy-word radar mechanism that kicks in anywhere words are spoken - they hear it all in school hallways and cafeterias, the ball park, and the grocery store, the car next to us at the stop light on a hot, windows-down summer day, even the long line behind us in the Christmas-time post office - words just fly everywhere, anytime, in real life.  I suppose the provocation behind the words should be taken into account, but my boys don't do that; they don't analyze or dig for cuss-causes like Angst, Aggravation, Anger.  They don't parrot that stuff, they just parrot the zingy, spicy words that are heard rather frequently nowadays here and there in real life and in reel life as well.  At the movies. And so with the movie-rating domino being PG a couple days ago - we were good to go and so we went.

There was an unrelenting cold wind blowing all over the place that day.  It was sharp and rude feeling against my face and Steve's face too so we hunkered into our coats and hurried across the parking lot to the theater entrance.   The sharpness and rudeness of the outside world completely vanished, not even a dim memory of it, during the entire two hours of the PG movie.  The movie, the fairy tale story, absolutely swept me in and swept me away in a comfortable, cozy, warm familiar way.  The story itself is very familiar to me, to most everyone I'm pretty sure.  I've known the characters, the plot, the ending, all of it practically my entire 57 years.  Yet, it swept me in and swept me away.  As for Steve, he was in a linguistic safe haven - not a single zingy, spicy word throughout the entire two hours.  All the dominoes had fallen just right.  And it was none other than Disney's recent version of the old Cinderella fairy tale story that managed to sweep the two of us into that magically, cozily familiar haven. 



I can't and I won't analyze it, critique it, or cynically scoff at it as I suppose I should seeing as how I'm 57 years old and all.  But I just can't and I just won't.  And I won't give you a world-weary, sophisticated opinion about it either the reason being my 57ness melted clean away regarding this beautiful fairy tale movie.  I admit it; I'm not sophisticated and I'm not world-weary either.  It's because I haven't grown up yet.




"...have courage and be kind.  It'll help see you through the trials that life can offer." (Ella's mother)

Spring Break here, there, not yet, and t/here!

Spring Break Here...

First Day of Spring Break for Steve

That's my only at-home Spring Breaker giving his "Keep Calm and Sail On" thumbs up to the decidedly un-spring breaky wintry-mix going on behind him in the backyard.  It's pouring down snow here in Illinois on this March Monday - which isn't all that unusual, so say the professional weather people and their historical data - but for non-professional, "what the heck, one week ago it was 70 and sunny here" type of folks, it's notable and noticeable - so I'm noting and noticing the pouring down of the snow on Steve's first day of spring break.  He's all thumbs about it, he's just that kind of guy - mostly a go-with-the-flow, even keel, keep calm and sail on young man.  I don't think he chose that shirt to wear today for its imprinted message. I think he picked it out because he was being practical: the shirt is warm and cozy and the day is blowy and snowy.

Speaking of that shirt, while its message, in my opinion, perfectly captures Steve's take on life, it actually is "spirit wear" from his school - the one he's spring breaking from this week.  S.A.I.L. is the  name of the post high school program he attends - it's his "college."  And on the back of his shirt it says:

Spring Break There...

Oh my goodness, so okay, while on the subject of SAIL and things nautical and spring break, one of my other sons, the one who is a midshipman out east, is just today back in classes after his spring break from the Naval Academy. The details, heck the broad outline even, of his spring break adventures in Florida's Disney World with several of his midshipmen friends, I'll never know.  But then that's the way it should be, must be, when you factor in the spring breakers' ages, their collectively earned trust, and most obviously, that apron-string-severing fact that "they're Uncle Sam's now!" Even with all that, I can't stop being Mom so when I received a text, albeit a very brief one, from my midshipman son late last night saying he was back on the Yard in Annapolis, I once again was calm and able to sail on, off to sleep.

Spring Break Here, but not yet for you...

For the first time ever my youngest's spring break does not coincide with his big brother Steve's spring break.  Tommy's break is NEXT week and he was not really all about it when at 6:15 this morning I'm rousting him, and only him, out of bed into the get-ready-for-school move-it-move-it-move-it mode.  "But Steeeeve," he lamented.  "Nope," I told him, "Steve has spring break all week, starting today."  That the brothers share a room and Tom has to walk by Steve's bed to get to the bathroom to get ready for school even when Steve gets the whole week off - hmmmm, let me just say that some shenanigans sort of ensued during the walk-by.  Ahhhhh....it was all in good, brotherly fun.  Sort of.  Anyway, Sail On!

Spring Break T/here...

The oldest of my six lives just up the road, only about a half hour away, and that I must say is just the best! Over the years as the 4 older kids have left to live their lives, to make their way in the big wonderful world out there, to do what they were meant to do, and what they chose to do - I have stood in awe and sat in quiet heartbreak - I miss them desperately, and I am desperately happy for each of them, and all that desperate sitting and standing and heartbreaking happiness goes on all at once somehow.  I'm pretty sure it's a Middle-Aged Parent sort of phenomenon and since I'm definitely Middle-Aged it's okay for me to have that phenomenon. Anyway, having my oldest just a quick drive up the road is wonderful - he and the others who are on their own have lived far, far away at times.  Other states, other countries.  But for now, my oldest is just in another town.  And he's on spring break this week from the high school in which he teaches special ed and coaches the school's track team.  It was so nice on Saturday when he and his fiancee came over for dinner - just like that, zip zip in the car and up our street and into our kitchen to hang about and set the table, chop some vegetables, boil some noodles, eat, talk, laugh - it's the best!  So with my oldest on spring break and just up the road and my next to youngest on spring break right here in the house, we may, just may, the three of us together have an adventure or two this week.

Spring Break 2015 - Whether you've had your break or it's coming or it's right now or you don't get one anymore - I send you all prayers for staying safe today and always!  Take care and God bless.

Karen

TWENTY ONE!!!!

March 21, 2015

aaahhh...it's the family room! 

Today, the 21st of March, I'm putting the Family Room into the blog world!

The Family Room - this blog one is a lot like the real room in my real house with the same name. It's  an "aaahhh" kind of place - easy, comfortable, sit down, relax a minute kind of place. Children dash in and out, there's noise, good noise, and windows to see out, books to see in, a big chair to sit on.  Mostly pleasant things come into this room, and if they're not mostly pleasant then at least they need to be a little funny.  There'll be no harsh stuff, no really sad stuff - that has to stay out - because I said so.   And I've chosen today, the 21st, as the Family Room blog launch date because, well... let me show you:

First of all the Family Room is 21 years old this year.  It was way back in 1994 that I dreamed up the Family Room.  And it was 1994 that my crazy dream materialized - as a real-live weekly newspaper column!  This is what it and I looked like back then:

 

Back then I was a Mom of 4, my oldest was 10 (he's now a special ed teacher) and my youngest, back then, was a newborn (he's now a midshipman at the United States Naval Academy).  In 1994 I wrote about what I knew then - being a Mom to 4 (3 of whom have gone on to serve in the military! Who knew?!  Certainly not me, not back then!).  Anyway, other things I knew about and so wrote about: being a wife and a daughter-in-law for 13 years, being a daughter and a sister for 37 years, being a best friend for 30 years, and being a dreamer-upper from the very start.  The editors of the newspapers carrying my column said, "Go ahead, write about all of it!"  And I did; I wrote about family for family - and all along, the whole time, I was inspired by my family.  As it grew, my horizons grew.

Twenty one years ago my real family room absolutely positively bubbled over with adventure and life and noise and mischief and really good stuff and I just couldn't help it - I just couldn't keep it to myself one more second, and so the Family Room, the column, was born.  Back then and for many years the stories of the Family Room were printed in real ink on real, crinkly, foldable newsprint paper that wound up on real porches or real puddles at the ends of driveways in several towns in the United States.  And today, 21 years later, on the 21st of the month, in this, the 21st century - my newspaper column is celebrating its 21st birthday and at the same time transforming itself into a 21st century blog.  So there it is -  Happy Blogday Birthday Family Room!


I've timed the blog launch of my 21 year old Family Room for today (3 - 21) for another reason.  Today is World Down Syndrome Day and my two youngest (child #5 and child #6 born during the Family Room-in-the-newspaper years) have Down syndrome.  All over the world and in my very own family room a celebration is underway today of those who have that 3rd copy of the 21st chromosome in each cell of their bodies.  I've actually been celebrating Down syndrome every day for the past 19 years - Steve was born in '96 and celebrating him and his journey has been so humbling and gratifying and wonderful and inspiring and easy and difficult and .... well, simply put, a joy like no other.  And in 1998 my sixth child came along, Tommy.  Tommy is now 17 years old, a junior in high school, an enthusiastic basketball player, a league bowler, a track and field medal winner, a techno-gadget whiz kid. These two boys are the youngest of my six children and like the four older ones, they have been inspirers and adventurers and mischief makers and life affirmers - and, like their older siblings, they were and will be again featured characters in many a  Family Room story.   Here they are gathered together in a rare photo -  my Family Room's featured characters: its inspirers, adventurers, mischief makers, its life affirmers - all in one spot!

In the 21 years since the Family Room was born many things have changed.   For instance, the very location of the real family room (we've moved three times: from Michigan to Illinois to Ohio back to Illinois) And then with the 3 of my 6 in the military, the question of how many months pass before we can gather again, and how many time zones and oceans separate us this time, and what time is good to Skype.  In my real family room I've seen the number of diplomas increase and the addition of a wedding album on the table, and the "I Love Nana" picture frame holding a picture of my granddaughter and me.

So much life has gone on and will go on, so many adventures, so much inspiration bubbling over, still, even after 21 years.



                                                                                                         
                                     

Til next time, take care and God bless. Karen