Here it is Thursday again – “paper day.” That’s how I think of Thursdays. And I missed getting my stuff in the paper again, so therefore it has reminded me to get with it and write something for next week.
First, I’d like to say “hi” to daughters Kim and friends, Betty and Sue. Hope all is well with you all.
I have had no one visiting me this week except by phone. I talk to Karen and Kevin daily and my son, Burr, called yesterday. I also talked to Jean and Jo, and my sister, Jean, picked me up for church Sunday. Debra Delp brought me home.
We had a good lesson and Gary Moore preached to us on forgiveness. Something we sometimes find hard to do. But we do this for our own peace and because Christ told us to.
Jean told me of our cousins, Ron and John Lewis, visiting last week. They are our Aunt Edith’s on my mothers’ side sons.
We had a good day at quilting club Wednesday. We had all the regular men for dinner. We are missing our dear friend Ruth and we keep her in our prayers, and Colleen who has been having to work.
Jo had great grandson, Wyatt and they came for a while, but went home before dinner. She enjoys that little boy because he brightens up a lonesome life, and Wyatt never lets that happen. He is a special little person.
That’s all the news I think of.
My sister, Jean, asked me when I was going to finish my book of memories and assorted subjects. It is nearly finished except for the ending, which I can’t seem to get motivated to do and because my daughter, Karen, is so busy that I hesitate to ask her to help me with the editing and printing. And so time goes on and all I write is for the paper, and I guess my “book” will have to be the life I have lived and the good children I have raised because I can’t do better at this time. Maybe some day.
So my excerpts from the things I have written so far; I will write for the paper from time to time. And that may have to suffice.
Hasn’t our summer been one to remember? I love summer because of the warmth, when you get old you get cold, and I love the produce from our gardens that lets us live healthfully and deliciously and I appreciate the air conditioner.
We are reminded of God’s creation in all seasons. And we enjoy all four seasons – all beautiful in their own way.
We love the beautiful fall foliage, fresh spring buds, summer’s bountiful gifts and then lacy, delicate blankets of snow with birds of every color eating the food we provide.
We have seen many changes in the past 100 years, but once upon a time there was a magic place, the place of our youth where the happenings in this big old world we couldn’t have imagined.
Those who went before us inspired with a passion for living and left a legacy of our natural curiosity that always leads us to truth, hope, and the things that matter most.
I have recently shared memories with many of you and I have tried to remember and script things we’ve experienced. I have relied on some of my old articles printed in the Douglas County Herald, the paper I have written for over 40 years. Mom kept all my items in a scrapbook and so I have a few.
Many tears have flowed as scenes of yesteryears resolve of butchering of canning and chores done long ago by hand, as well as week long revivals, (where you really got revival) chivaries, Sunday dinners with tables laden with bountiful meals and funny episodes of family lore.
I have been indulging in reminiscent encounters of past years. I have written of generations of loving and caring people, catching glimpses of joy and laughter and tears and sadness.
For those of you who know of what I have written, wasn’t life fun and happy back then? And a record of what we’ve had around us is a way to remember and keep it alive.
Back then, time was suspended as the world stood still and time skipped by as if the perfect time would never end.
How could anything be so perfect as time for us back then was?
Because in our mind’s eye everything always went exactly right. The sun came up every morning in a flawless sky. Fortune smiled on us during every flawless moment.
In our present world there have never been times so perfect or tastes so distinctive because those of my generation were given the gift of free unencumbered time. We weren’t driven by the relentless whirling of the clock hands. We had never tasted the sweet limitless taste sensations available in never ending supply. So we had nothing to compare our simple fare or life experience to. The drama and sensationalism we hear on every news report never tickled our lifestyle.
And to some, a perfect bowl of whatever food must now be duplicated exactly, to be as good.
Even though subsequent dishes may be as good, they are shunned because they can never awaken that taste sensation exactly of that moment in time that was perfect. That standard can never be met again.
What if many of those good ole’ times were illusions seen through clouds of time, hiding part of the reality that we couldn’t comprehend?
So as I write of things and people I remember of long ago, I hope you recall times and places and people from your past as we all take time to remember our beginnings.
When life was simple and sweet old age has taken it’s toll on us, but it’s better to laugh than to cry, you musn’t mind if I’ve rambled and lost the thread now and then. I’m old, you know, and I wander. It’s a way with old women and men. For their lives live behind them and their thoughts go far away. And are tempted afield, like children lost on a summer day.