When you first knew what you really wanted to do in life

It's taken me a while to get this typed up and posted but I want to capture these bits and pieces of my family history. Mom went to her 60 high school reunion last fall (!!!) and her class started a Facebook group to keep and touch and continue sharing. The group was asked to share what they remembered about when they first knew what they wanted to do in life. When my mom and I went to lunch downtown at Elmer LoveJoy's and she shared with me some of her thoughts on this that she'll be sharing with her class too.

When she was in 7th grade she knew she wanted to become a college professor after listening to the Quiz Kids radio show. She thought up a question about Cardinal Richelieu to try to to stump the Quiz Kids, and she figured it was a pretty hard question since her 7th grade history teacher didn't know it, but it didn't get used in the show.

The next year she sent away for college catalogs for the Big 10 colleges and Vassar (because he'd heard that Chiang Kai-shek's wife went to Vassar) but got a big shock when she discovered how much Vassar cost! Still, she had a plan: she bought a pedigreed West Highland White Terrier, Heather, with the plan of breeding her and selling pups to save up money. Heather's first litter had three puppies, but just shortly after they were weaned Heather died from an infection. Mom sold two of the puppies (and didn't even break even, after Heather's vet bill) and kept one of them, Pinky, but Heather's death made her lose heart in her plan.

My mom with her Westie, her mother and siblings Tom, David, and Connie

She ended up getting a scholarship at Kent State, and later a very nice fellowship in German and Russian for her Master's at Indiana University - she ended up going to a Big 10. The fellowship also allowed her to travel to Europe. After her Masters, she taught German and Russian at the University at Buffalo (where she met my dad) and later switched to a PhD program in International Economics. I remember her working on her dissertation, I think I was about 10 when she got her doctorate. She has taught International Economics and related course for over 30 years now.

This got me thinking about when I first knew what I wanted to do. I started journaling when I was 10 and that quickly expanded into writing stories about horses. I fell in love with the Lord of the Rings when I was 14 (I think I re-read it three times in one year!) and I knew I wanted to write epic stories like that. But then when I was 15, my godmother Barbara took me along with her kids to Disney World, and I fell in love with the Living Seas exhibit, and asked one of the people working at this giant aquarium what kind of training I would need to get a job like this. "Marine biologist" they told me.

My journals during junior and senior year were full of my being torn between my love of science and my love of writing. One of my mother's friends taught Biology 101 at the University at Buffalo, and she got me into his class my senior year (which had the nice side benefit of giving me a lot of freedom from the regular high school schedule). I loved it! Even the labs. I took copious notes and when studying for my tests, I recopied my notes into a fresh notebook so that they were neat and organized (one night I stayed up all night doing this). But still, the love of the writing was right there along with the love of science.

My first semester at Oswego State I took the prerequisite classes for a Biology major (Chemistry, Calculus, I forgot the third); and two required humanities courses, one of which was a writing course. I didn't like Chemistry and Calculus at all, but I loved the writing class. So I began to have doubts about my major. But then an environmental group (Greenpeace maybe?) gave a talk on campus and I was so inspired by it, I became determined again to push myself through all the tough science and math classes and continue the biologist track.

After getting the pre reqs out of the way, I got to take specialized biology classes my other three years in college. I remember specifically Biochemistry, Ecology, Animal Behavior, Limnology, Oceanography, Stream Ecology, Forestry, and Plant Biology. None of them excited me like General Biology had, I couldn't see a career in any of them, and I wasn't excited enough about Marine Biology anymore to continue to the master's level. But my senior year I took a GIS (Geographic Information Systems) class because I had heard it had a lot applications in Forestry and other natural resources management areas - and I had finally found my niche! I got my Master's in Geography and loved all my classes, and I have been working in the GIS field now for 21 years.

But I've never stopped writing, either, and I view it as more than a hobby. These stories in my head keep begging to be written, but over the years I've discovered it's not just about getting them down onto paper, it's also about seeing them change as I change... and finding the heart of the story.

1000 gifts: inspiration from old journals

Continuing my list of gifts, blessings that I write down to remember all the wonderful things that God gives me along life's journey. I write these down on my calendar, and when I get a chance I add them here to my blog. These are all blessings from March, 2013.

A week into March, my husband was laid off from his job, so was a really tough month for us; but on the other hand God has really drawn me into His Word and prayer, and bestowed so many rich insights. The thought crossed my mind that it was a dangerous thing, to make "prayer" my theme word for the year: I should have realized that God would hit us with some big stuff that would require a lot of prayer!

593. Katie noises
When I was feeling sad one day, my daughter Blaze cheered me up by imitating Katie from the movie Horton Hears a Who.  Katie is this little imp of a creature that says weird things and makes funny noises - and for whatever reason when my kids imitate her I just can't help but laugh.

594.  Inspiration from old journals
I typed up some excerpts from my journals from my senior year in high school and first couple years of college, as a gift for my parents' birthdays (March 1 and 3). These were events that we shared together, and insights that I was learning along the way.  It was so wonderful re-reading these years, not the events so much as the energy and joy of life that bubbled over in my writing. I came to realize that I have always been gifted with the ability to see silver linings in upsetting circumstances, and beauty in nature - as I've grown older God's also gifted me to see beauty everywhere, not just in nature.

595. Barn wisdom
B. shared this little story with me and the kids: A dad tells his two sons to go clean out a barn. The first boy says "this barn is full of manure!" The second boy says, "If there is this much manure, there's got to be a horse!"

596. College writing class
Stars' high school gives seniors one free college class, and Stars has been sharing  some of the essays she's been writing for her writing class. I learn so much more about her from her writing than just conversation alone, and she's a gifted writer, not afraid to examine herself and her motives, her goals and her dreams. (Also reminded me of the essays in one of my college writing classes that challenged me to think and examine - glad I saved them to read again someday)

597. "How to Listen to God"
I discovered this pamphlet "How to Listen to God" through my Overeaters Anonymous partners. It lines up so perfectly with my theme this year, prayer.  I've tried this a couple times, step by step, and found it to be extremely rewording - my prayer time feels useful, not just repetitive, and it feels like genuine communication with God. I've always struggled with regular prayer - this will be a big help.

598.  Scripture cannot be broken
This is from John 10:35, from my morning Bible reading. Almost every morning I've been finding a "wonderful thing" like this in my reading. I started last month with a challenge to read the Word daily, at least one chapter, because the Word is our daily bread - just as we need to eat everyday for our physical body, we need to read the Word to feed our spirit).

599.  Blowing kisses at mean kids
Dreamer (my 8 year old) has been crying a lot lately, both here at home (over small things that we have hard time understanding why she's so upset) and at school, too. I talked with her school counselor, who had some great strategies that she's been teaching to Dreamer, but this is one Dreamer came up with on her own. I loved it.


600. Sitting on God's lap
Starlet (6 years old) said she had a dream where she was sitting on God's lap. Moments when my kids share things like this remind me of  3 John 1:4: I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

601. Twenty pounds lost
It's taken me almost 6 months - and at times I have been soooo discouraged with how slow the weight has come off. But this is a huge milestone! I really don't care how long it took me to get here - the main thing is, I got here!  I still have a long way to go (yes, a little nervous to admit this, but I need to lose at least another 20 pounds).  God is teaching me that slower is better, even though I argue with him sometimes on that point.


602. Missing journal discovered
When I was eleven years old, I went on a three week trip through France, Italy and Switzerland with my parents, and I kept a journal every night. But the journal has been lost for years - until my mother just recently discovered it where it had been packed away. It's hilarious - traveling from an eleven year old's point of view!

603. My grandmother's old pictures
When Mom found my old eleven year old journal, she also found the box of old pictures from my grandmother on my father's side. Even though there was very little information to go with the pictures, and my father couldn't remember much, either, they were still fascinating to look at. Among them we also found my grandmother's birth certificate, and for the first time I know the names and details of my great grandparents.

604. My mother's newspaper articles from 1956
Inspired by the journal and pictures she found, my mom also dug out some of her old scrapbooks and we had fun looking through these too. My mother traveled to Europe for the first time when she was 20 years old, in 1956. By herself for a whole summer! She saved up $500 for this trip, and she got the local Kent, OH newspaper to agree to pay her an additional $10 for every article she wrote and sent back to the newspaper while she was traveling, so she earned another $50 for the trip.

I loved reading the articles she wrote. As soon as she got to England she bought a bike, and that was how she traveled - everywhere (except when she loaded her bike onto a train), staying at youth hostels for a dollar a night. She always biked in a skirt! And apparently she had only one skirt, so she writes about when when her skirt began to split due to all the wear and tear, she had to stop and a stranger's house and ask to borrow a needle and thread to fix it! A later article, from when she was in Germany, she writes about biking into a village in a pouring deluge, and she took her shoes off and stowed them away because she didn't want them to get wet, so she biked into the village barefoot.

605. Encouragement from KLOVE
I get so much encouragement listening to KLOVE - I love the stories people call in and share, and I learn a lot of wisdom, too, even in short 30 second soundbytes."Like this one: girls growing up identify most with their moms. In order to become themselves, they must swing away, like a pendulum. But also like a pendulum, they will eventually swing back." We're going through the swinging away part with Stars right now, my 18 year old stepdaughter, and it's hard enough that I'm dreading the same thing happening again with my four younger girls. But this is a great promise - they will come back.

606.  Working with other Christians
B. is still looking for another job, but in the meantime he's been picking up enough side jobs for us to get by, and many of these are coming from friends at church. Which means he's been working a lot with other Christians, which is a huge blessing because there were no Christians at his previous job, and there were times he'd ask me to pray for him for protection because of the people he worked with and the nasty things they said and did.  Since losing his job he's also really been examining his motives with spending, and told me that he wants to start supporting missionaries and ministries. Wow!

607.  Goats and good weather for Easter
Yes, that's right - goats.  Spring has come to Wyoming with its usual irony: lots and lots of snow. But we got a reprieve and a beautiful sunny warm day for Easter so we could even hide eggs for the girls outside, and later play at the park - where the girls got to pet a pair of goats (the goats' owners were out for a stroll; they said they prefer goats over dogs!).  Another gift for Easter: a lady at church gave every parent a set of Resurrection eggs along with a matching game that the girls had fun playing, at the same time looking up verses and relearning the importance of Jesus' death and resurrection.

 608. The pain and beauty of practice
This is a daily entry in the Overeaters Anonymous book Voices of Recovery, on page 79. This really resonated with my soul, even though I haven't practiced piano seriously in years, it's still true for any form of art, even writing:

I'm a classical musician, and I know about the pain, discouragement, and boredom of practice. I make many mistakes and I make them repeatedly. But a wonderful thing happens as I persist. As the mistakes fade away, the true beauty of the music emerges. I contact the soul of the music. It's truly a spiritual experience.

This OA program has been like that for me. Persistence has been the key. I've gone through periods of pain, discouragement and boredom while practicing the program.  I've heard people say "the way out is through" and "keep on going". With practice, my abstinence has become easier and clearer... lighter and brighter.  With practice, the true beauty of my life has emerged, and I've contacted my soul.

 

Mom's earliest memories 1941-1946

Lately I've been hanging out at my parents' house every Sunday afternoon. I hang around to offer help to my mom with anything she might be needing; I know she's often exhausted taking care of my father with his Parkinson's. But most of the time we just end up talking.

This last Sunday I was able to help her get her computer backed up and while I was working on the computer she straightened up her desk and then came across a piece of paper that had a list of "Triggers for childhood memories" - she can't remember why she wrote this list. I asked her to read the list to me, and then (a little surreptitiously) I started typing up the memories that these "triggers" helped her come up with. She said many of these childhood memories were certainly thing that  affected her life later on.

In her words:

I’m so thankful for my mother and father taking us on vacations, usually every September. The first one I remember was a trip to Wisconsin when I was 5 years old (maybe) in 1941. I bounced up and down and couldn’t sit still, I was sitting on a suitcase or box and Mother had put a pillow or bedding on top of it and Bev was underneath (where my feet would have gone) sitting sideways because every inch of space was used, we had packed for a week or more.

We were going west instead of east; usually we went east to Pennsylvania so it was very exciting heading in a different direction. Visited Portage, Wisconsin where Uncle Clarence lived, he had an ice cream shop. Daddy decided we should have our first train trip from Portage to the Wisconsin Dells, an old Indian encampment area. We saw all the teepees and women doing beadwork. My parents bought me a little Indian squaw doll and David got a little birchbark canoe.

1942? – Aunt Nellie and Uncle Chris had seasons tickets to the Louisville symphony. I was no more than six years old, and wanted to go with Mother and Nellie, even though they warned me I would have to sit by myself as they would have to buy a separate ticket. I was in a row behind them and never took my eyes off them the whole concert!

Hiking into the dark woods all by myself, from the sunshine into the darkness (1943-44) – I had so many fairytales in my mind that this was a strong memory for me. Especially venturing off by myself at such a young age and having the courage to go into the dark.

Riding Bill down the hill in front of the house and experiencing my first canter, a thrilling memory.

Sliding down the golf course hill in Dave’s skiis and getting the first rush of skiing. After the war; probably around 10 years old. 1946/47.  I had to stuff his boots full of socks to get them to fit. (My mother skied up until she was 74 years old! – she’s now almost 76 and just mentioned she’d like to take my 11 year old skiing).

The first time I saw the ocean, Tom and Dave and I, summer when I was 9 or 10, my sister Connie was a toddler. Nellie’s husband Kenneth showed us how to body surf the waves in. I’m sure that’s the start of my love of the ocean.

1946 – sitting in the audience as the University Choral Group performed the Messiah (my older sisters Bev and Margie were performing).

During the Depression years into War years: helping Mother bake bread and apple dumplings. Mother didn’t love to cook but she loved to bake. I got my love of cooking from Daddy. I liked having a little sister but I never had the interest in mothering or other domestic pursuits (though I always had to help with cooking and cleaning) except for these memories of baking and the house smelling so good.

Going to the children’s section of the Kent Public library and the nice lady there let us have as many books as we wanted. The bookmobile would stop at the top of the driveway and pick up me and David and Tom and take us to the crossroads in Brimfield (where the park was and pump and outhouses – we weren’t allowed to cross the street or go to Luddick’s store (little country grocery store where we kept a tab). We could get an ice cream there for a nickel but we had to ask for permission. We had too many books to carry to walk home so someone must have picked us up. The bookmobile was the size of a small schoolbus.

The Luddicks were our very best friends (I remember Helen Luddick) – Helen did a needlework of two women having tea for Grandma.

The Pufferbelly restaurant replaced the train station in Kent (pufferbelly was a name for an old-fashioned train). The passenger train ran until the late 1950’s. I took the train to New York City and David taking the train from that station to Annapolis (1957).

I wrote a letter in 7^th or 8^th grade to the Kent Courier Tribune why Truman should not have fired Douglas MacArthur. He was a kid’s hero: the war was our whole world as kids.

I don’t have a specific memory of the Pearl Harbor being bombed but I did notice that everything changed. Little boys and even girls would be dressed in childrens’ version of their father’s uniforms and sailor tops for the girls."

Mother subscribed to two weeklies, Colliers and the Saturday Evening Post. The minute Colliers came in the mail we would open it up to the back page, divided into two parts, the part across the top was a color caricature of a real enemy (Hitler and Hirohito etc) – very ugly. We cut them out and collected them like baseball cards. It was important to know who are enemies were. We didn’t collect any of the heros though.

When you went into school you brought 10 cents in whenever you could so that after the Pledge we would buy a victory stamp and put them in our stamp books. As soon as you collected $18.75  in your book then you could get a $25 war bond. Sometimes warbonds were given as gifts and that was big deal.

Tea with my mother

Had a wonderful talk with my mom over tea, out in the backyard (in our jackets - a bit chilly but sunny). The girls raked up piles of leaves to jump in, when they got bored they went inside to watch cartoons. But we stayed outside, Mom sharing lots of memories of her father and her childhood; I tried to remember some. I've been after mom to finish her father's biography she started years ago; I also want her to write her own biography. But in the mean time, I'm capturing as many memories as possible. This blog serves as my own autobiography of sorts, and I hope my children will someday treasure memories of their grandmother too. I know I treasure my grandmother's autobiography (Alfaretta) and wish I had captured more details about my other grandmother's life before she died (Gladys).

Mom remembers during World War II, her dad bringing home balloon cloth from his work at Goodyear, wrapped around his waist and covered by his clothes (because they weren't supposed to take it). Her mom would use it to make sheets, pillowcases, aprons. Mom remembers giving an embroidered aprons as gifts when invited to  birthday parties. One girl received no less than 4 aprons as gifts once. Mom does not like aprons to this day. Her older sisters taught her to embroider.

Her dad was allowed a gasoline ration to drive to work since his job at Goodyear was considered war-essential. He would pick anybody walking along the road to take them into town. He had a big drum that would get filled with gasoline, which he had to provide gas coupons to get; there were few gas stations.

Once one of her dad's friends showed him his "hoard" where he kept a large supply of black market items, sugar and make-up and other hard-to-come-by things. The man told her dad to take anything he needed since he knew they had a large family, but he wouldn't take anything because he disapproved of the black market. 

There was a fire in the part of the house that is now the apartment when Mom was fourteen and her mother was pregnant. Though the fire never reached the main house, it did fill up with smoke, and there was a lot of smoke damage. The first thing her mom grabbed to take out of the house was a radio phonograph that her dad had won in a contest for inventive ideas. Her mom miscarried possibly due to the strain of carrying things out of the house.

Mom remembers her dad giving her an idea for one of her classes, that to transfer goods from the port of Cleveland to outlying towns a huge conveyor belt could be built raised above the ground like an elevated train.

Horses in our family over the years

My daughter Dreamer (her screen name) had to do a class project for 2nd grade about family traditions. She wanted to do horses since our family owns a lot of horses and we are always riding. But I told her that horses go way back in our family, too. So together we looked through photos and talked with her dad and grandparents to put together some details about our family's history with horses.

About 1937: a picture of her Grandma's (my mother's) horse, a paint pony called Bill. She grew up on a farm and Bill was a plow horse but also fun to ride (though he could be very tricky - would scrape you off under trees if you weren't paying attention).  My mother is the baby in this picture  (with her Grandma) and her cousin is riding Bill. Mom remembers riding Bill all her years growing up - he lived to be a very old horse.

Her grandpa (my father) grew up in a big city (Buffalo, NY), but lived near a city stable where rich people kept their horses. He used to make deliveries there and later when I got into my horse-crazy stage, he took me to see the Saddle and Bridle club. We found out I could get riding lessons there and I ended up riding there from age 10 to 17. This is a picture of my dad riding my cousin Donna's horse. 

Her other Grandpa (B's father) grew up in a small town in Nebraska. This is his horse Rip. 

Her other Grandma (B's mom)  grew up helping her father train horses on a ranch in Nebraska near Ogallala.  Grandpa saw her for the first time riding a horse through town and said “that’s the girl for me.”

Her Grandma's father supposedly won at the Cheyenne Frontier Days Rodeo, and her grandfather (mother's father) supposedly once rode (or tried to ride) the famous bucking horse, Steamboat, who was popular at the Cheyenne and Laramie rodeos in the early 1900's. (Steamboat is often cited as the source of the bucking horse and rider that is the symbol of Wyoming).

B.'s family also had horses when he was growing up, he and his dad would take them hunting up in the mountains. Starting his senior year in high school, he rode bareback broncs in rodeos all around the west until he was about 24. Now he does team roping.  

 I took riding lessons for years but didn't get my own horse (Rebel) until I was 22. I loved to jump but I never got brave enough to jump over 3 1/2 feet (that's what I'm jumping here in this picture on Ginger, a horse I leased). Before I met B., I showed in jumping, dressage and eventing. Now my favorite thing is trail riding in the mountains and teaching my daughters the skills I learned.

Here are the five girls with our five horses:  Stars on Folly, Blaze on Spring, Dreamer on Ally, Serious on Rebel and Starlet on Jewel.