As our travels continue to take us through the Badger State's scenic lakeside locales, today's setup in Winneconne allowed us to enjoy the placid waters of Lake Winneconne up close and personally. In fact, as the 24 hour man directed the house trailers onto the plush, green, grassy park, I could tell right away that I would be the lucky one to enjoy the closest view of the lake complete with docks, boats and bouys. I don't know if my super sonic speedy stop on this morning's jump at my very favorite gas station, Kwik Trip played a part in my getting lakeside parking, but in any case, I wasn't complaining. (I can't pass up an opportunity to fit a 20oz cup of hazelnut cinnamon coffee in my truck's handy dandy drink holder!)
Sticking to my regular morning routine, I unloaded my garage and much of its contents, including my excited pack of pooches, two dog pens, shade cloths, props and a host of my other circus related necessities. I found myself with a little extra time to clean and straighten a few things that needed attention. All the while, my two petite poodle mix brothers enjoyed some free time running around the empty ball field directly behind the trailer's massive garage door/ramp. After the garage's appearance met my approval, I called the curly-haired pair with a high pitch tone with the intention of settling them back in their kennel for a cold drink of water and some rest. I expected to hear their tiny paws pouncing atop the ramp as they would quickly brake to meet me in the garage...but only one brother showed up. Hmmmmmm....this was out of the ordinary.
I began the search for Coconut alone scouring the wall along the canal a few stone throws from my rig. When I got no response, I decided I'd lure him with his brother, Dobby (yes, Geo named this guy...lol!) which quickly yielded some doggie sounds from across the canal. At first, I thought it was a little comical to see my little guy peeking out of the bushes, scampering side to side, excited to see the familiar face of his little brother. My amusement was extremely short-lived when I realized he must have fallen in the water while rough housing with Dobby. He realized he wasn't able to escape the water the same way he'd gotten in, so he swam to the opposite side, crawled up the rocky edge and I'm sure hoped beyond all hopes he would be found.
As luck would have it, if you believe in such things, a kind dog-walker happened along and noticed I was trying to figure a way to the other side of the canal to save my dog. He informed me that Coconut was actually on an island and there were no foot trails or bridges spanning the water to the other side. Well, Georgia & I thought since he swam across once, certainly he would be eager to swim back across to us. Georgia and I eagely called and called Coconut with high hopes he would splash back in the water and doggie paddle to safety. He dared a couple of times to swim, but the lily pads' stems seemed to hinder any progress he might make. I was desperate at this point! How in the world was I ever going to get this little guy out of this pickle?? Georgia and I decided to call on the aid of family.
As I dialed Simone, I recalled she had packed her paddle board in the event we would play lots with a lake nearby. I wondered if she would let me use it to retrieve my stranded pup. I was a bit apprehensive about asking since there was a healthy collection of algae floating atop the water. When she answered her phone, she quickly thanked me for the use of my coffee maker, as hers had made its final pot of coffee the day before. I reassured her it was my pleasure to help anyone in coffee distress, especially a fellow coffee-lovin' family member. I shifted the conversation to my canine matter at hand, and before I could ask about the possibility of using her paddle board to get my dog, she offered not only its use, but she also offered to do the job for me. I cautioned her of the unpleasant algae situation and offered a few more times to get Coconut. Simone cheerily reassured me she would be glad to help get him back to dry grassy circus land and even saw it as a bit of an adventure! Needless to say, I breathed a sigh of relief. I'm sure if little Coconut knew of the plan we had in the works to help him, he would have done the same.
In no time at all, Simone came along, paddle board in hand and assessed the situation. She quickly unzipped the board's protective covering and then explained how she would paddle across the water, make every effort to get Coconut on the board, and bring him back to safety. She happily insisted on going solo but did say she would need help getting the board out of the water once the job was done. The algae didn't bother her one bit, as she said it would hose off easily. As we discussed the upcoming rescue attempt, little Coconut continued to squeak, yip, bark and pace side to side, everso anxious to get back to his brother and drier land.
The rescue involved a couple of trips across the canal. Simone made every effort to coax Coconut to her, but he was so wound up, it seemed he wasn't thinking straight enough to realize he was only a couple feet away from help. He was antsy and anxious and just plain
scared. After the first rescue attempt did not yield a wet hound, Simone paddled back to get Dobby to ride along. As the pair approached the opposite side, they met those awkward clusters of lily pads which prevented a clear way to the rocky water's edge. Coconut actually made his way on to the board at one point, only to work himself up so much that he jumped back in the water and swam back to the island. Our last resort was a treat. Since Coconut and Dobby don't have discriminating appetites, Georgia quickly retrieved a hot dog from our fridge; as soon as treat was in hand, Simone's hand, she paddled back across the water and was successful in luring Coconut on board with her. She stratigically managed a u-turn with paddle and wet dog like she had done it everyday. By this time, a few more circus peeps had gathered to see what was up and encourage Simone along. We were all relieved to see the rescue attempt succeed, but no one more grateful than me! Except maybe Coconut.
Now, if you know Simone, you know she is fun-loving, smart as a whip and has bubbly personality that is rather contagious. She is always wiling to lend a hand, and I serioulsly don't know anyone who is more generous that she is. Simone is the kind of person who delights in giving and helping, especiallly to animals in need of help or in need of spoiling 😊 like no one I've ever seen. I sometimes halfway joke that she's my life coach. You tend to gravitate toward people who are not only positive but have a keen self-awareness and confidence, all of which Simone has. As a result, I find it reassuring to bounce ideas off her, or get her opinion when I need a fresh pair of eyes for anything from an outfit I'm trying to put together to a more serious life event. Always level-headed and honest in answer, I know I can trust her response, advice and opinion as being genuine and from the heart. These things are rare but so very appreciated.
After this morning's adventure, I caught Simone in cookhouse and thanked her again for all she had done to help Coconut. Once again, she happily came to the aid
of an animal in need. That's extra special...
...not all super heroes have a red cape...some have red hair.
Monday, August 22, 2016
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Making Time
Well, it has been more than a year since I've written a thing on my blog. I have to say I have missed writing. The problem, which of course is not unique to me, is finding time. Time seems to escape my grasp at an alarming rate with each passing day. So, here I sit in the middle of Wisconsin in the middle of the season, enjoying a quiet evening making every effort to take time and do what I have been missing.
Over the last 12+ months, my kids and I have continued to enjoy circus life and all it has to offer: some of our favorite tiny towns that boast the quaintest of downtowns, the occasional local coffee shop pitstop, afternoons at the local swimming pool, and this season, the nearest UP lake. We've had the pleasure of adventuring through the ultra historic towns of Garbervillle, Steamboat Springs and Leadville last year. While this season's off-the-lot adventures have been fewer than last year's, we've enjoyed every moment we could to experience the sites, sounds and in some cases the smells of some outings with family & friends. Traversing the many terrains, crawling over and around the objects and larger-than-life sized sculptures, and climbing the winding stairways of the City Museum is something we haven't enjoyed since 2012! The tours in the dark and elusive caverns of Ohio kept my kids wide-eyed and almost speechless. Discovering cavern history, learning the differences between stalactites & stalagmites, and hoping to get a little good luck from the water drops delicately dripping from of the cave ceilings onto the kids' arms, hands and head are some highlights the kids came away with. Not long ago while we were in the water-side town of Munising, the entire show took to the waters of Lake Superior on a complimentary boat tour to see first-hand, the amazing and historic pictured rocks. The mineral seep near Mosquito Beach caught everyone's attention and the sky heights of Bridal Veil Falls took the breath away of more than a few circus tourists. The kind of creepy East Channel lighthouse would make a perfect set for a creepy thriller flick. We've made time for a movie or two this year and my kids and their cousins have taken extra time to chase down some of those ever elusive Pokemon characters. And of course, we've managed to deal with the high temperatures and heavy humidity in the cool blue waters of community pools here and there.
Monday is usually extra busy with errands, but we do try to break the mundane with a run through the kids' favorite fast food place or peruse the aisles of a local gift shop or boutique. Our days tend to be filled with some sort of household chore, laundry, trip to a feed store, the occasional visit to a vet and of course weekly grocery outings. The confines of time can make it challenging to fit a practice in, or extra time to spruce up props, or take Tootie to the park to push her on the swings. But, it has taken me years to learn I can't do everything in one day and some things have to go by the wayside in order to get that practice in or a trip to the local car wash to scrub off the truck. I have to remind myself that going full tilt is going to burn me out...pacing myself is still something I have to force myself to do. I've gotten a little more used letting the house work sit a bit; it'll still be there when I come home from the park with Tootie, or finish ogling the latest fashion, hair & make up trends online with Georgia.
I'm a slow learner, I suppose. I'll get it right one day. But, time waits for no one, as they say, and I am learning more everyday the value of spending time enjoying life with those I love and doing things I love. My kids will be on their own and gone one day. So, if I can't make time stand still or even slow it down, I can soak it up with a new appreciation. I'm telling myself more and more, it's not always work before pleasure because like a shot, it's the end of the day, and though my house may be pristine, my kids are asleep, and I realize I missed out on spending that fleeting time with them. Some lessons are indeed learned the hard way. Make time for the people you love. And, make time for the things you love to do before an entire year goes by...
Over the last 12+ months, my kids and I have continued to enjoy circus life and all it has to offer: some of our favorite tiny towns that boast the quaintest of downtowns, the occasional local coffee shop pitstop, afternoons at the local swimming pool, and this season, the nearest UP lake. We've had the pleasure of adventuring through the ultra historic towns of Garbervillle, Steamboat Springs and Leadville last year. While this season's off-the-lot adventures have been fewer than last year's, we've enjoyed every moment we could to experience the sites, sounds and in some cases the smells of some outings with family & friends. Traversing the many terrains, crawling over and around the objects and larger-than-life sized sculptures, and climbing the winding stairways of the City Museum is something we haven't enjoyed since 2012! The tours in the dark and elusive caverns of Ohio kept my kids wide-eyed and almost speechless. Discovering cavern history, learning the differences between stalactites & stalagmites, and hoping to get a little good luck from the water drops delicately dripping from of the cave ceilings onto the kids' arms, hands and head are some highlights the kids came away with. Not long ago while we were in the water-side town of Munising, the entire show took to the waters of Lake Superior on a complimentary boat tour to see first-hand, the amazing and historic pictured rocks. The mineral seep near Mosquito Beach caught everyone's attention and the sky heights of Bridal Veil Falls took the breath away of more than a few circus tourists. The kind of creepy East Channel lighthouse would make a perfect set for a creepy thriller flick. We've made time for a movie or two this year and my kids and their cousins have taken extra time to chase down some of those ever elusive Pokemon characters. And of course, we've managed to deal with the high temperatures and heavy humidity in the cool blue waters of community pools here and there.
Monday is usually extra busy with errands, but we do try to break the mundane with a run through the kids' favorite fast food place or peruse the aisles of a local gift shop or boutique. Our days tend to be filled with some sort of household chore, laundry, trip to a feed store, the occasional visit to a vet and of course weekly grocery outings. The confines of time can make it challenging to fit a practice in, or extra time to spruce up props, or take Tootie to the park to push her on the swings. But, it has taken me years to learn I can't do everything in one day and some things have to go by the wayside in order to get that practice in or a trip to the local car wash to scrub off the truck. I have to remind myself that going full tilt is going to burn me out...pacing myself is still something I have to force myself to do. I've gotten a little more used letting the house work sit a bit; it'll still be there when I come home from the park with Tootie, or finish ogling the latest fashion, hair & make up trends online with Georgia.
I'm a slow learner, I suppose. I'll get it right one day. But, time waits for no one, as they say, and I am learning more everyday the value of spending time enjoying life with those I love and doing things I love. My kids will be on their own and gone one day. So, if I can't make time stand still or even slow it down, I can soak it up with a new appreciation. I'm telling myself more and more, it's not always work before pleasure because like a shot, it's the end of the day, and though my house may be pristine, my kids are asleep, and I realize I missed out on spending that fleeting time with them. Some lessons are indeed learned the hard way. Make time for the people you love. And, make time for the things you love to do before an entire year goes by...
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Familiar Territory
Today we drove 240 miles to one of our very favorite west coast spots, Garberville. I'm so thankful we had the day off to make this jump.
Our trek into the Golden State began in late April when we landed smack in the middle of downtown Needles. This town has a very, 'was probably popular in the fifties and sixties but is now trying to make a resurgence' feel to it. The warm days and chilly nights are thanks to the Mojave Desert, but the western banks of the Colorado River lends a much welcomed change o' scenery. Its funny name comes from a group of pointed rocks on the Arizona side of the river. Needles can also brag a mention by Three Dog Night in their, Never Been To Spain tune. It is one of those towns that has been on the Culpepper route for years, and marks a significant point in our tour...California, we have arrived!
Seemingly endless miles of Joshua tree-lined windy roads lead us to the likes of the little vacay hub, Lake Isabella; super historic (and kinda sci-fi like) and super out-of-way Trona, and a much needed four-day-stand in Buck Owens' own Bakersfield. Bako and G-ville are on everyone's 'towns we can't wait for' list. After weeks of battling dirt lots and high winds in west Texas, ole New Meh-hee-ko and Arizona, one must experience the West Coast tour first hand to truly appreciate getting to California.
Now that we have all landed safely here in Humbolt County, we can sleep in the next couple mornings and sip our coffee slowly and not from a travel mug. We are nestled just outside of town along highway 101 in the Redwoods.
G-ville's main drag boasts a few cozy cafes, an inviting ice cream/espresso shop, a couple motels, some fancy-schmancy clothes & souvenir shops and an ultra hip toy store with retro toys. Its residents are welcoming; many take their dogs along their treks to town and more than a few sport dreadlocks. And one thing is for sure...G-ville folks love the circus. CM has been appearing in Garberville long before my 2001 tour when my only job was announcing the show. Back in the day when Barbara & Connie were CM stars, you could count on more than one grower of some sort of plant to meandor around the elephant department in hopes of scoring some super sonic pachyderm fertilizer. (They like to grow stuff here in these parts...ain't no secret... ;) )
I never tire of the redwoods' beauty. My kids and I have made more than a few memories here and we have plenty of pictures to prove it! The windy narrow roads (complete with an ample supply of turn-outs to allow folks like myslef to let the occassional impatient driver go 'round) just a few miles outside of town are lined thick with redwoods so tall you can't see the tops of the trees. We are very familiar with the trinket shops and tourist traps, and yet each visit we make our way to the grandfather tree, the giant redwood log house, confusion hill and the house that defies gravity, to mention just a few places of interest. After all these years, we have yet to encounter bigfoot, as some have claimed to around these parts...but that won't stop us from doing our own kind of exploring, which will likely include trying to stand upright in the crooked house, signing the guest registry at the log house again and I may even find a redwoood or bigfoot themed addition for my 2015 fridge magnet collection.
Our trek into the Golden State began in late April when we landed smack in the middle of downtown Needles. This town has a very, 'was probably popular in the fifties and sixties but is now trying to make a resurgence' feel to it. The warm days and chilly nights are thanks to the Mojave Desert, but the western banks of the Colorado River lends a much welcomed change o' scenery. Its funny name comes from a group of pointed rocks on the Arizona side of the river. Needles can also brag a mention by Three Dog Night in their, Never Been To Spain tune. It is one of those towns that has been on the Culpepper route for years, and marks a significant point in our tour...California, we have arrived!
Seemingly endless miles of Joshua tree-lined windy roads lead us to the likes of the little vacay hub, Lake Isabella; super historic (and kinda sci-fi like) and super out-of-way Trona, and a much needed four-day-stand in Buck Owens' own Bakersfield. Bako and G-ville are on everyone's 'towns we can't wait for' list. After weeks of battling dirt lots and high winds in west Texas, ole New Meh-hee-ko and Arizona, one must experience the West Coast tour first hand to truly appreciate getting to California.
Now that we have all landed safely here in Humbolt County, we can sleep in the next couple mornings and sip our coffee slowly and not from a travel mug. We are nestled just outside of town along highway 101 in the Redwoods.
G-ville's main drag boasts a few cozy cafes, an inviting ice cream/espresso shop, a couple motels, some fancy-schmancy clothes & souvenir shops and an ultra hip toy store with retro toys. Its residents are welcoming; many take their dogs along their treks to town and more than a few sport dreadlocks. And one thing is for sure...G-ville folks love the circus. CM has been appearing in Garberville long before my 2001 tour when my only job was announcing the show. Back in the day when Barbara & Connie were CM stars, you could count on more than one grower of some sort of plant to meandor around the elephant department in hopes of scoring some super sonic pachyderm fertilizer. (They like to grow stuff here in these parts...ain't no secret... ;) )
I never tire of the redwoods' beauty. My kids and I have made more than a few memories here and we have plenty of pictures to prove it! The windy narrow roads (complete with an ample supply of turn-outs to allow folks like myslef to let the occassional impatient driver go 'round) just a few miles outside of town are lined thick with redwoods so tall you can't see the tops of the trees. We are very familiar with the trinket shops and tourist traps, and yet each visit we make our way to the grandfather tree, the giant redwood log house, confusion hill and the house that defies gravity, to mention just a few places of interest. After all these years, we have yet to encounter bigfoot, as some have claimed to around these parts...but that won't stop us from doing our own kind of exploring, which will likely include trying to stand upright in the crooked house, signing the guest registry at the log house again and I may even find a redwoood or bigfoot themed addition for my 2015 fridge magnet collection.
Monday, June 9, 2014
The Wilds, Waters and Memories of a Midwest Town
This year's tour has taken us through a few of our favorite states. In Missouri we looked forward to seeing friends and climbing all around everything in the City Museum. In Illinois, we landed in Casey where my aunt and uncle came to see us and we cruised the ultra cute downtown shops and bakery. In the Hoosier state we moved all around my mom's home town of Terre Haute and visited with more family. As we continued through the Midwest and neared my home state of Ohio, I was keeping a close eye on my calendar. Our days in Ohio were filled with visits I had planned with my sister, friends of my kids and friends who are like family.
Ohio's rolling green farm land was something out of a magazine. Classic red barns, pristine white two story farm houses and shiny tractors were all common sights on our morning drives. As our trips would fade from farmlands to more residential areas, Georgia and I marveled at the beauty and detail of the many Victorian homes that lined the tiny village streets. Fortunately, 25 is the maximum speed limit in those areas and they are dotted with stop signs and stop lights. This allowed us to admire the color schemes, some intricate landscaping and fresh green lawns of homes built so obviously around the turn of the last century and all those with a Brady Bunch feel and others with more contemporary designs. To me, it is a joy to peruse these village streets so we can take in the beauty and maybe find the history.
As we neared the Dayton area, I made plans to explore a few special places so I could share a little of my family's history with my kids. Since my grandfather worked in the maintenance department at Wright Patterson Air Force Base during WWII, I wanted to see first hand with my kids the WPAFB museum I heard so much about. My hope was to take in every history lesson the museum had to offer. I wanted, in some way to connect my kids with a part of my grandfather's life. His time at the air force base was something he spoke of with pride and honor.
Another stop I had hoped to make was at The Siebenthaler Company. The giant nursery has been in business for several decades and employed my grandmother from the mid 1960's till about 1974. I can practically still hear the fondness in her voice when she spoke of her job and coworkers. Although I have no memory of what the inside of Siebenthaler's looked like, I'm certain I have at least sat in the parking lot because I can still recall the logo on the building with the big curvy "S." To my dismay, the nursery and museum are still on my list of places to see with my girls someday.
North Hampton is a little less than an hour from our old house on Far Hills Avenue in Dayton. My grandmother had one sister with whom she was very close and it was her house on that hill by the creek in North Hampton that served as a mini getaway more times than I can count.
My great-aunt Eileen looked almost nothing like my grandmother. My grandmother was the mirror image of their tough, Irish, tool & dye maker father, Mike Quigley...right down to her steely blue eyes, large curved nose and slight overbite. She was your classic feisty Irish red head...all 5'1'' of her. Eileen was light, like Jean Harlow. Her delicate features matched great-grandmother Louella's, and so did her quiet strong spirit. To look at them, you probably wouldn't know they were related. But, they were alike in so many other ways and were so close, they practically completed each other's sentences.
That house in that tiny town. A town with one church, one light, a tiny post office and a little ice cream place. My grandparents could never understand why Eileen and Joe, my 110% pure Hungarian great-uncle who bore a striking resemblance to Floyd the barber, would want to live in a smaller-than-Mayberry village. But, even as a kid, I could see the appeal. Even though I didn't get much passed the tall white woven fence surrounding that house, I somehow knew those neighbors were close, like family. Everything about that town felt easy and comfortable.
The house was red. That kind of deep, almost maroon, but not quite, kind of red. Long before my family moved in, the red house had been one of ill repute. That is the only history of the house I know. I wish I knew more.
There was a pond in the front yard to the left of the walk way leading to the front door. A bell to the left of the door that Uncle Rock (Joe) would let us ring. The front porch was glassed in and there was a full kitchen with a white stove, that I guessed was from the 1960's. The shelves along those windows were filled with Snoopy memorabilia and a variety of knick knacks, funny signs and trinkets. Passing through the first kitchen, into the main house was the second, more modern kitchen. Fridge to the left, sink and stove to the right, early American round dining room table just beyond the stove nestled near the bay window overlooking the creek. There was a small tv on the counter which usually aired the Bob Braun Show or the local news. Old fashioned rugs dotted the floors that creaked and I can still recall the smell of that place. I could go into more detail about the claw & ball tub, the giant jars filled with bars of soap, the grandfather clock, the living room no one sat in and was a little dark & scary, the tall bed that required a stool to climb into and the narrow iron stairs leading down the hill...but I would surely wear the keyboard out.
My sister Lauren, is closest to me in age. It was with her that I explored the creek that ran through North Hampton down at the bottom of the hill the house sat on. In 1970-whatever, the creek was clear. There were large slippery rocks that allowed us to walk from one side to the other. A few fallen trees with scary exposed roots and a couple of rusted out ancient cars had been partially immersed in those waters for what I had guessed, had been a million years. Those cars were creepy and rusty and probably haunted and although I never dared go near them, I secretly wanted to climb inside and see first hand just how old and spooky there really were. What did the interior look like, and whose were they and how did they get shoved down that hill into the water??? The creek was lined with pebbles and small smooth rocks, some good for practicing skipping. Trailing along the creek, we would come to Uncle Joe's duck house. He actually had a gaggle of geese. They seemed giant to me and I had heard at least one had a penchant for nipping. They were named after Peanuts characters and Uncle herded them along like a pro with a long staff. We didn't venture too far past the duck house without Uncle Rock, but we did dare climb on parts of the fallen trees, and probably took a few too many chances on those slippery rocks in bare feet. But it was all special. And even at that age, I could appreciate how mind-clearing it was. Not just for us, but for my grandmother. When we were there, with as enjoyable as it was for Lauren and me, I could sense a seriousness to my grandmother's visit with her sister. I never asked, and they never said, but there always seemed to be a little more to their visits than trips down memory lane.
Just a few weeks back, my plans to revisit the "wilds" and waters of North Hampton came through with the help of dear folks who grew up near to my aunt and uncle, and not just in proximity. Annie and Julie were the grandkids Eileen and Joe never had. Their parents were long time close friends of my family's. It is in keeping in contact with these thoughtful folks, that I have come to know more about my aunt and uncle and have been able to recall old moments in time I had long forgotten.
Annie recently took my girls and me on a tour of North Hampton. For some, there may not be much to see. The church looks the same and the post office is still tiny. The population is still less than 1,000. The country houses are sweet and some have the quintessential garden. But, for me, it was a tour of a lifetime. Seeing my kids enjoy the creek I once spent hours in was a kind of special for which I can't find words. Although the creek isn't quite as clear as it once was, the whole place was greener than I ever remembered. The duck house is in good shape and so is Joe's storage shed. The rusted out cars were hauled off years ago. But, if they had still been in that old creek, Georgia would have committed to memory every detail of the interior of those old jalopies. Of that I am sure. I was not surprised to see her test her footing on the slippery rocks. The iron stairs that Lauren and I raced down a hundred times are still there. The bell isn't hanging up anymore and pond is long gone. Joe and Eileen carved their initials and the year they bought the place at the top of a cement stair case leading down the hill to the creek. The carving is still there, but very faded.
The house isn't red anymore, but it sure is prettier than it ever was what with all the painstaking remodeling and expanding it has gone through. Joe and Eileen have been gone for many years, but I have no doubt they would take great pleasure in the way the current owners have not only improved the place, but so obviously reverence the place, its history and former owners. It is comforting for me, to know that there are others who, like myself, appreciate the history, the memories and meaning of a place that's not simply a dwelling or a house, but a home.
Ohio's rolling green farm land was something out of a magazine. Classic red barns, pristine white two story farm houses and shiny tractors were all common sights on our morning drives. As our trips would fade from farmlands to more residential areas, Georgia and I marveled at the beauty and detail of the many Victorian homes that lined the tiny village streets. Fortunately, 25 is the maximum speed limit in those areas and they are dotted with stop signs and stop lights. This allowed us to admire the color schemes, some intricate landscaping and fresh green lawns of homes built so obviously around the turn of the last century and all those with a Brady Bunch feel and others with more contemporary designs. To me, it is a joy to peruse these village streets so we can take in the beauty and maybe find the history.
As we neared the Dayton area, I made plans to explore a few special places so I could share a little of my family's history with my kids. Since my grandfather worked in the maintenance department at Wright Patterson Air Force Base during WWII, I wanted to see first hand with my kids the WPAFB museum I heard so much about. My hope was to take in every history lesson the museum had to offer. I wanted, in some way to connect my kids with a part of my grandfather's life. His time at the air force base was something he spoke of with pride and honor.
Another stop I had hoped to make was at The Siebenthaler Company. The giant nursery has been in business for several decades and employed my grandmother from the mid 1960's till about 1974. I can practically still hear the fondness in her voice when she spoke of her job and coworkers. Although I have no memory of what the inside of Siebenthaler's looked like, I'm certain I have at least sat in the parking lot because I can still recall the logo on the building with the big curvy "S." To my dismay, the nursery and museum are still on my list of places to see with my girls someday.
North Hampton is a little less than an hour from our old house on Far Hills Avenue in Dayton. My grandmother had one sister with whom she was very close and it was her house on that hill by the creek in North Hampton that served as a mini getaway more times than I can count.
My great-aunt Eileen looked almost nothing like my grandmother. My grandmother was the mirror image of their tough, Irish, tool & dye maker father, Mike Quigley...right down to her steely blue eyes, large curved nose and slight overbite. She was your classic feisty Irish red head...all 5'1'' of her. Eileen was light, like Jean Harlow. Her delicate features matched great-grandmother Louella's, and so did her quiet strong spirit. To look at them, you probably wouldn't know they were related. But, they were alike in so many other ways and were so close, they practically completed each other's sentences.
That house in that tiny town. A town with one church, one light, a tiny post office and a little ice cream place. My grandparents could never understand why Eileen and Joe, my 110% pure Hungarian great-uncle who bore a striking resemblance to Floyd the barber, would want to live in a smaller-than-Mayberry village. But, even as a kid, I could see the appeal. Even though I didn't get much passed the tall white woven fence surrounding that house, I somehow knew those neighbors were close, like family. Everything about that town felt easy and comfortable.
The house was red. That kind of deep, almost maroon, but not quite, kind of red. Long before my family moved in, the red house had been one of ill repute. That is the only history of the house I know. I wish I knew more.
There was a pond in the front yard to the left of the walk way leading to the front door. A bell to the left of the door that Uncle Rock (Joe) would let us ring. The front porch was glassed in and there was a full kitchen with a white stove, that I guessed was from the 1960's. The shelves along those windows were filled with Snoopy memorabilia and a variety of knick knacks, funny signs and trinkets. Passing through the first kitchen, into the main house was the second, more modern kitchen. Fridge to the left, sink and stove to the right, early American round dining room table just beyond the stove nestled near the bay window overlooking the creek. There was a small tv on the counter which usually aired the Bob Braun Show or the local news. Old fashioned rugs dotted the floors that creaked and I can still recall the smell of that place. I could go into more detail about the claw & ball tub, the giant jars filled with bars of soap, the grandfather clock, the living room no one sat in and was a little dark & scary, the tall bed that required a stool to climb into and the narrow iron stairs leading down the hill...but I would surely wear the keyboard out.
My sister Lauren, is closest to me in age. It was with her that I explored the creek that ran through North Hampton down at the bottom of the hill the house sat on. In 1970-whatever, the creek was clear. There were large slippery rocks that allowed us to walk from one side to the other. A few fallen trees with scary exposed roots and a couple of rusted out ancient cars had been partially immersed in those waters for what I had guessed, had been a million years. Those cars were creepy and rusty and probably haunted and although I never dared go near them, I secretly wanted to climb inside and see first hand just how old and spooky there really were. What did the interior look like, and whose were they and how did they get shoved down that hill into the water??? The creek was lined with pebbles and small smooth rocks, some good for practicing skipping. Trailing along the creek, we would come to Uncle Joe's duck house. He actually had a gaggle of geese. They seemed giant to me and I had heard at least one had a penchant for nipping. They were named after Peanuts characters and Uncle herded them along like a pro with a long staff. We didn't venture too far past the duck house without Uncle Rock, but we did dare climb on parts of the fallen trees, and probably took a few too many chances on those slippery rocks in bare feet. But it was all special. And even at that age, I could appreciate how mind-clearing it was. Not just for us, but for my grandmother. When we were there, with as enjoyable as it was for Lauren and me, I could sense a seriousness to my grandmother's visit with her sister. I never asked, and they never said, but there always seemed to be a little more to their visits than trips down memory lane.
Just a few weeks back, my plans to revisit the "wilds" and waters of North Hampton came through with the help of dear folks who grew up near to my aunt and uncle, and not just in proximity. Annie and Julie were the grandkids Eileen and Joe never had. Their parents were long time close friends of my family's. It is in keeping in contact with these thoughtful folks, that I have come to know more about my aunt and uncle and have been able to recall old moments in time I had long forgotten.
Annie recently took my girls and me on a tour of North Hampton. For some, there may not be much to see. The church looks the same and the post office is still tiny. The population is still less than 1,000. The country houses are sweet and some have the quintessential garden. But, for me, it was a tour of a lifetime. Seeing my kids enjoy the creek I once spent hours in was a kind of special for which I can't find words. Although the creek isn't quite as clear as it once was, the whole place was greener than I ever remembered. The duck house is in good shape and so is Joe's storage shed. The rusted out cars were hauled off years ago. But, if they had still been in that old creek, Georgia would have committed to memory every detail of the interior of those old jalopies. Of that I am sure. I was not surprised to see her test her footing on the slippery rocks. The iron stairs that Lauren and I raced down a hundred times are still there. The bell isn't hanging up anymore and pond is long gone. Joe and Eileen carved their initials and the year they bought the place at the top of a cement stair case leading down the hill to the creek. The carving is still there, but very faded.
The house isn't red anymore, but it sure is prettier than it ever was what with all the painstaking remodeling and expanding it has gone through. Joe and Eileen have been gone for many years, but I have no doubt they would take great pleasure in the way the current owners have not only improved the place, but so obviously reverence the place, its history and former owners. It is comforting for me, to know that there are others who, like myself, appreciate the history, the memories and meaning of a place that's not simply a dwelling or a house, but a home.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
The Rest of The Winter
Most winters it seems that as soon as I get the trailer completely unpacked and cleaned from top to bottom, it is about time to start loading it up again. This winter wasn't like that at all. In fact, the months seemed to kind of drag by. The overcast skies and the cold temperatures filled more days than just about any past winter. The cold cut into my practice time and those overcast skies just mostly made me want to stay in bed. But, I practiced every day the weather and my schedule allowed and I pressed on with errands, chores, kid sleepovers, trick or treating, dance classes, dental appointments, cleaning out the garage, teaching classes, church and occasionally spent time with friends and family. I have to admit, we made a detour every so often to my favorite coffee shop amid all that running around. ;)
After a quiet Christmas at home, we did manage to take a trip out of town to spend New Year's Eve with friends. I was thrilled to spend a few New Year's Day hours perusing the floors of Ikea for the very first time and I came away with a few well thought out purchases for my kitchen.
The winter is not only filled with national holidays but is also the time of year I celebrate my own personal holiday. I turned 44 on January 31st which doesn't seem the least bit possible. Hard to believe I am the baby of the family. My friends and family put together a wonderful party for me at our church. I was so honored at the effort they put into making my birthday so very memorable. I ate a lot of baked spaghetti and tons of salad expertly made by my friend, Donna Moos and I indulged in a few of Simone's birthday red velvet cupcakes. I came home with armfuls of Bath and Body goodies, candies, clothes, a colorful circus tent coffee mug and even a much needed water pump for my trailer! I am always grateful that I have such thoughtful people in my life.
While Valentine's Day is usually reserved for dating or married sweethearts, I like to indulge my little sweethearts in some candies and a favorite stuffed toy. The seasonal aisles at our Dollar General yield more than plenty of choices for February 14th. A couple of brightly decorated gift bags filled with chocolates, candy hearts, ring pops and a few other miscellaneous heart shaped candies and my kids are smiling for days. I always get a kick out of seeing their faces light up.
The shortest month of the year was colder than usual, like the rest of the winter months, yet our flowers still showed the slighted signs of new growth. Every year, without fail, the yellow and purple flowers planted by the previous owners so many years ago pop up through the sparse blades of grass. It is upon the first signs of color that either Georgia or I will remark that the flowers are showing...it's coming up on time to go.
I've had lots of practice packing my trailer for the season. I know just what the kids are capable of helping me with and what I should tackle on my own. The one thing about packing is that "in between" stage where we are still living in the house, but so many of our belongings are in the trailer. It's in this stage that we have to occasionally make a run out to the trailer for something we thought we wouldn't need till we were on the road. I have two of some things, and should have two of other things. In any case, the packing is a good time to inventory what we have. Some things get donated, others get tossed and others get reassigned to another room. Since I consider myself the opposite of a pack rat, I sort of like the purging and organizing part of packing for the year. The last thing I do each year before I lock the house for the last time, is scan each room in a last ditch effort to find what we may have forgotten to pack. There is usually one or two little things I will think of a month or so into the season that I wish I'd have remembered but found I could still live without.
We took off for Bokchito, OK the day before opening. The trip was short, the lot was familiar and a little tight and the crowds were decent. I enjoyed meeting our new cast members as we went over the do's and don'ts in the show meeting. The Midwest tour has taken us up to Arkansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana and we are currently wrapping up our Ohio run. We see more grassy lots and less miles on this tour. It's a nice change of pace from the more rugged west coast tour. But, more about all of that in the next entry...
Thanks for checking in.
After a quiet Christmas at home, we did manage to take a trip out of town to spend New Year's Eve with friends. I was thrilled to spend a few New Year's Day hours perusing the floors of Ikea for the very first time and I came away with a few well thought out purchases for my kitchen.
The winter is not only filled with national holidays but is also the time of year I celebrate my own personal holiday. I turned 44 on January 31st which doesn't seem the least bit possible. Hard to believe I am the baby of the family. My friends and family put together a wonderful party for me at our church. I was so honored at the effort they put into making my birthday so very memorable. I ate a lot of baked spaghetti and tons of salad expertly made by my friend, Donna Moos and I indulged in a few of Simone's birthday red velvet cupcakes. I came home with armfuls of Bath and Body goodies, candies, clothes, a colorful circus tent coffee mug and even a much needed water pump for my trailer! I am always grateful that I have such thoughtful people in my life.
While Valentine's Day is usually reserved for dating or married sweethearts, I like to indulge my little sweethearts in some candies and a favorite stuffed toy. The seasonal aisles at our Dollar General yield more than plenty of choices for February 14th. A couple of brightly decorated gift bags filled with chocolates, candy hearts, ring pops and a few other miscellaneous heart shaped candies and my kids are smiling for days. I always get a kick out of seeing their faces light up.
The shortest month of the year was colder than usual, like the rest of the winter months, yet our flowers still showed the slighted signs of new growth. Every year, without fail, the yellow and purple flowers planted by the previous owners so many years ago pop up through the sparse blades of grass. It is upon the first signs of color that either Georgia or I will remark that the flowers are showing...it's coming up on time to go.
I've had lots of practice packing my trailer for the season. I know just what the kids are capable of helping me with and what I should tackle on my own. The one thing about packing is that "in between" stage where we are still living in the house, but so many of our belongings are in the trailer. It's in this stage that we have to occasionally make a run out to the trailer for something we thought we wouldn't need till we were on the road. I have two of some things, and should have two of other things. In any case, the packing is a good time to inventory what we have. Some things get donated, others get tossed and others get reassigned to another room. Since I consider myself the opposite of a pack rat, I sort of like the purging and organizing part of packing for the year. The last thing I do each year before I lock the house for the last time, is scan each room in a last ditch effort to find what we may have forgotten to pack. There is usually one or two little things I will think of a month or so into the season that I wish I'd have remembered but found I could still live without.
We took off for Bokchito, OK the day before opening. The trip was short, the lot was familiar and a little tight and the crowds were decent. I enjoyed meeting our new cast members as we went over the do's and don'ts in the show meeting. The Midwest tour has taken us up to Arkansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana and we are currently wrapping up our Ohio run. We see more grassy lots and less miles on this tour. It's a nice change of pace from the more rugged west coast tour. But, more about all of that in the next entry...
Thanks for checking in.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
George Bailey
Preparing for Christmas took my mind off the ice storm and its effects to my property. While I was able to haul most of the fallen branches to the back of my pasture where I wouldn't be able to see them on a daily basis, others were struggling with having to hire professionals to cut, trim and haul off branches torn down from the storm. With every trip to town it seemed I would see more and more houses with neatly stacked piles of evenly cut branches positioned at the edge of property lines awaiting pick ups. On our way out of town in mid March, I saw a few tree service trucks pulling utility trailers full of wood. Hard to believe all those weeks after the icy weather that Paris residents were still cleaning up the mess.
Shortly before Christmas I discovered our local theater had scheduled one showing on Christmas Eve of my very favorite movie, It's A Wonderful Life. I have been a Jimmy Stewart fan since I first discovered his films in the late '80's. I worked at a video store where I rented Mr. Smith Goes To Washington and I was an instant fan. Between Rear Window, Mr. Hobbs Takes A Vacation and his role in The Shootist, it's pretty near impossible for me to choose which role I could say is my second favorite after that of George Bailey. Maybe it's the comforting believability of his acting, or the fact that he puts me in mind of the grandfather who raised me, or maybe both, but there was always something about Jimmy Stewart's acting that made me feel happy. And, sort of like I knew him. It's A Wonderful Life is a movie that I, like many others watch every Christmas season. I've probably seen it over a dozen times. And, like many others, I have cried each and every time at the end. Just thinking about what Clarence wrote in the book makes me well up just a little. Because it's true. It's a Biblical principle. It is a truth that has been lost by some people. But, I can say, with all honesty, it is a truth I am reminded of daily when I log on to my Facebook page and am able to connect and communicate with friends and family. Corny? Yes. True?? Very.
Watching this movie on the big screen with my girls was an event that is etched in my mind forever. My oldest, like myself has a fondness and deep appreciation for the past, particularly the Victorian age up to about the 1940's. We have talked about what we think living in that span of time was like. I have relayed many stories from my grandparents and other relatives who have given me first-hand and second-hand accounts of daily life way back in the proverbial day. We wonder what everything looked like in color because pictures and movies are all black and white. :)
Georgia instantly fell in love with the movie and asked if I could fix her hair with the big braid like Donna Reed wore. Tootie's attention was held throughout; she really loved when the dance floor opened up and the dancers fell in the pool. Georgia appreciated the humor, the clothes and décor and we still say, "I wish I had a million dollars! Hot dog!" every once in a while. We felt sorry when the druggist slapped George and made his ear bleed and we smiled big when he helped Mr. Martini get his first house. We were angered when Mr. Potter told George he was worth more dead than alive and when Nick didn't recognize him. We cheered along when George shouted, "Merry Christmas, you old savings and loan!" And everyone watching sniffed and wiped their eyes at the end when George read the message. The message I think we should remind ourselves of from time to time. I don't need to write it. We all know what this movie speaks of. I have tried to convey it to my kids since they could understand the concept; everyone matters; everyone counts; everyone can make a difference.
And, life is truly wonderful, even when it's hard.
Shortly before Christmas I discovered our local theater had scheduled one showing on Christmas Eve of my very favorite movie, It's A Wonderful Life. I have been a Jimmy Stewart fan since I first discovered his films in the late '80's. I worked at a video store where I rented Mr. Smith Goes To Washington and I was an instant fan. Between Rear Window, Mr. Hobbs Takes A Vacation and his role in The Shootist, it's pretty near impossible for me to choose which role I could say is my second favorite after that of George Bailey. Maybe it's the comforting believability of his acting, or the fact that he puts me in mind of the grandfather who raised me, or maybe both, but there was always something about Jimmy Stewart's acting that made me feel happy. And, sort of like I knew him. It's A Wonderful Life is a movie that I, like many others watch every Christmas season. I've probably seen it over a dozen times. And, like many others, I have cried each and every time at the end. Just thinking about what Clarence wrote in the book makes me well up just a little. Because it's true. It's a Biblical principle. It is a truth that has been lost by some people. But, I can say, with all honesty, it is a truth I am reminded of daily when I log on to my Facebook page and am able to connect and communicate with friends and family. Corny? Yes. True?? Very.
Watching this movie on the big screen with my girls was an event that is etched in my mind forever. My oldest, like myself has a fondness and deep appreciation for the past, particularly the Victorian age up to about the 1940's. We have talked about what we think living in that span of time was like. I have relayed many stories from my grandparents and other relatives who have given me first-hand and second-hand accounts of daily life way back in the proverbial day. We wonder what everything looked like in color because pictures and movies are all black and white. :)
Georgia instantly fell in love with the movie and asked if I could fix her hair with the big braid like Donna Reed wore. Tootie's attention was held throughout; she really loved when the dance floor opened up and the dancers fell in the pool. Georgia appreciated the humor, the clothes and décor and we still say, "I wish I had a million dollars! Hot dog!" every once in a while. We felt sorry when the druggist slapped George and made his ear bleed and we smiled big when he helped Mr. Martini get his first house. We were angered when Mr. Potter told George he was worth more dead than alive and when Nick didn't recognize him. We cheered along when George shouted, "Merry Christmas, you old savings and loan!" And everyone watching sniffed and wiped their eyes at the end when George read the message. The message I think we should remind ourselves of from time to time. I don't need to write it. We all know what this movie speaks of. I have tried to convey it to my kids since they could understand the concept; everyone matters; everyone counts; everyone can make a difference.
And, life is truly wonderful, even when it's hard.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Ice Storm of 2013
Arriving home after about 8 months of traveling is an event we start counting down to around the beginning of September. Of course, once you start counting the weeks and then the days, each hour passes at a ridiculous agonizing pace. By the second week of October I can see the "finish line" at my front gate in my head.
Every year, I park the trailer in roughly the same spot in the pasture. It gets enough shade from the giant tree Georgia likes to climb from time to time, yet is far enough away that the branches won't brush against the skin if heavy winds pick up. This winter, it wasn't just heavy winds, or even heavy rains that threatened us. It was an ice storm that came in the middle of December that sent everyone in a survival mode of sorts.
There was the memorable ice storm of 2000 that the Paris locals still talk about from time to time. That was before we settled our winters in Texas. Every winter from 2003 on has presented the occasional snow fall, light ice, some rains, winds and I can expect certain parts of my drive way to be too muddy to park on. (Fourteen loads of gravel later, I can now park my truck anywhere and everywhere in the driveway without fear getting buried to the axles.)
The 2013 ice storm was apparently on par with the storm that invaded Paris and surrounding communities years before. In any case many residents, myself included were left with no choice but to find a warm place elsewhere. Thanks to the unfailing generosity of friends in Hugo, we were made more than comfortable at the Brown home. We ate good, laughed hard and stayed up a little too late once or twice. I tended to my errands, chores and dogs and drove Georgia to school the days classes were in session. The time I spent at home during the day clearing what fallen branches that were manageable gave me a little work out. Some branches were coated so thick with ice, they sat in my yard and driveway for days till the ice was gone. With little to no signs of ice, I could drag them to the thickly wooded acreage at the back of the pasture. I often heard what sounded like gun shots echoing all over the countryside. While it's not the least bit unusual to hear target practice where I live amidst hunters, these cracks and pops weren't bullets or pellets, but the sound of branches being weighed down so heavily by the layers of ice that had accumulated so quickly. Some fell hard and fast and threatened the occasional passing car. Other branches fell in an almost creepy slow motion eventually succumbing to the weight of that white ice. But, still we were very thankful despite the overcast skies and the ice coated everything. Not everyone had a warm welcoming place with friends who are more like family like we did. The five days in Hugo were fun and reminded me that the value of friendship is something you can't put a price on.
Our church's living nativity was cancelled because of the ice storm. Atwoods, TCS and Wal-Mart ran out of those little green propane tanks. McQueen's propane was hopping while other stores were rushed upon by folks stocking up on water, gasoline (for generators) and propane. Some parts of Paris were a bit frenzied while other neighborhoods were left with empty houses, unlit street lamps and felt a little hollow.
The ice storm lasted about a week, and there were more cold days than not all winter long which made the off time creep by slowly. The icy wet weather isn't kind to my back or joints. While we are currently getting pelted with the sporadic rain storm here in the Midwest, I'm not sore and the time is moving right along.
Every year, I park the trailer in roughly the same spot in the pasture. It gets enough shade from the giant tree Georgia likes to climb from time to time, yet is far enough away that the branches won't brush against the skin if heavy winds pick up. This winter, it wasn't just heavy winds, or even heavy rains that threatened us. It was an ice storm that came in the middle of December that sent everyone in a survival mode of sorts.
There was the memorable ice storm of 2000 that the Paris locals still talk about from time to time. That was before we settled our winters in Texas. Every winter from 2003 on has presented the occasional snow fall, light ice, some rains, winds and I can expect certain parts of my drive way to be too muddy to park on. (Fourteen loads of gravel later, I can now park my truck anywhere and everywhere in the driveway without fear getting buried to the axles.)
The 2013 ice storm was apparently on par with the storm that invaded Paris and surrounding communities years before. In any case many residents, myself included were left with no choice but to find a warm place elsewhere. Thanks to the unfailing generosity of friends in Hugo, we were made more than comfortable at the Brown home. We ate good, laughed hard and stayed up a little too late once or twice. I tended to my errands, chores and dogs and drove Georgia to school the days classes were in session. The time I spent at home during the day clearing what fallen branches that were manageable gave me a little work out. Some branches were coated so thick with ice, they sat in my yard and driveway for days till the ice was gone. With little to no signs of ice, I could drag them to the thickly wooded acreage at the back of the pasture. I often heard what sounded like gun shots echoing all over the countryside. While it's not the least bit unusual to hear target practice where I live amidst hunters, these cracks and pops weren't bullets or pellets, but the sound of branches being weighed down so heavily by the layers of ice that had accumulated so quickly. Some fell hard and fast and threatened the occasional passing car. Other branches fell in an almost creepy slow motion eventually succumbing to the weight of that white ice. But, still we were very thankful despite the overcast skies and the ice coated everything. Not everyone had a warm welcoming place with friends who are more like family like we did. The five days in Hugo were fun and reminded me that the value of friendship is something you can't put a price on.
Our church's living nativity was cancelled because of the ice storm. Atwoods, TCS and Wal-Mart ran out of those little green propane tanks. McQueen's propane was hopping while other stores were rushed upon by folks stocking up on water, gasoline (for generators) and propane. Some parts of Paris were a bit frenzied while other neighborhoods were left with empty houses, unlit street lamps and felt a little hollow.
The ice storm lasted about a week, and there were more cold days than not all winter long which made the off time creep by slowly. The icy wet weather isn't kind to my back or joints. While we are currently getting pelted with the sporadic rain storm here in the Midwest, I'm not sore and the time is moving right along.
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