Me, Myself and Memories

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  Noreen 4:59 pm on April 10, 2018 Permalink
  Tags: Art, Arvel, Orlin   

  Hmm. If the sun could and would come out in the early morning hours, we could have better success at getting rid of some of this snow. With having the concrete driveway, it doesn’t take the sun rays long to clean it up and dry it off. It sure beats the two strips of eroding concrete we suffered with in times past. I am sure that in its day having two strips was quite the home improvement.

  Yesterday I happened to look in my “junk” emails. I was flying through them ready to take the whole shooting batch out with one flip of a finger when the name “Art Schafer” shot out at me as if it were in fluorescent letters. Art and I had lost contact.

  Art Schafer is Orlin’s brother. I still consider him my brother-in-law. Art and I are close to the same age. The difference is I have a wonderful full balanced life and Art will live out his life in the Buffalo Lake Health Care Facility. I believe it has been all of 10 years that a car accident put him in a very fragile physical and mental condition. When Mom was in the same facility I would stop and see him. Sometimes he would be agitated and not comfortable having anyone visit. Sometimes he would enjoy reminiscing. In February of 1964 Art and Julie, Orlin and I stood up for each other in a double wedding.

  The email in my junk was a simple “hi Noreen” and nothing more. I tried to reply to the email but it was labeled as undeliverable. I have no idea what Internet connections he has available in the facility. When I contacted Kevin with the news of the contact, Kevin reminded me of the time eight years ago when he and Uncle Arvel, Orlin and Art’s oldest brother, visited Art in the facility. Art was using a vice grip plier with an allen wrench. The narrow tip of the wrench allowed Art to punch keys on his computer as his way of using the computer. Art’s speech was compromised after the accident but he was an avid computer user.

  Today I decided to contact Art’s daughter in Fargo via an email. I told her of the email I had received from her dad and asked if she had an email address she could share with me for her dad. Time will tell if I hear from her. It touched me that out of the blue I had heard from Art. I would so enjoy letting him know that. If I don’t hear from his daughter, I may well contact the facility and see if there would be another avenue available. I most likely will not give up very easily. Family is still family.

   
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  Noreen 4:30 am on March 15, 2016 Permalink
  Tags: Carrie ( 12 ), Kevin ( 8 ), Orlin   

  I Don’t Have a Label for It 

  Yesterday, I admittedly said I was independent.  I think there is more to that.  I am a person that can be alone and not be lonely.  Does it come about from being a farmer’s daughter in a family of six?  The world reached as far as the participation in church, Sunday school and rural country school through eighth grade.  Being bored has never been in my vocabulary.

  From my earliest memories there was never a lack of activity within our home.  I am sure the saying “Idle hands are the the work of the devil” may have been the root of Raymond and Lena keeping their kids busy and putting out what I call, a lot of local effort.  After the work was done there was plenty of time for creative play: tree forts, play houses in the depths of the grove, our own little plot of dirt to see what seeds would produce, and us girls got an early education of embroidering dish towels.  Mom’s box of fabric scraps contained the better part of scrapped out clothing, bits and pieces of fabric left from sewing with printed feed sacks – and even the treasured pieces of boughten yardage that were too small for Mom to use. With those, I could scrounge through to make my doll some new clothes.  Life was too busy to feel as if we were lacking anything.

  Fast forward to wherever Orlin and I made a home with Carrie and Kevin.  There always seemed to be plenty to tackle to make the real estate feel like a home filled with love, contentment and self-satisfaction of jobs well done without the long receipts of purchased items.  Within each home: Carrie found a spot for her dolls and books, Kevin would find some square footage for a desk within a closet or a workshop in one of the outbuildings.  It never took much of an area for me to set up my Sears sewing machine to express myself whether it was sewing for the family, mending clothes or sewing carpet rags.  As the kids grew and expressed curiosities,  dampening their spirits was not thought of.  Orlin included Kevin in any and every type of repair and building project that he was involved in.  Different baking ingredients were purchased as Carrie’s interest grew in the kitchen and patterns were tried for her clothes.  I believe the key to both children was leaving them alone at times for imagination and skills to shine.  We enjoyed the home life.

  Fast forward to the year of 2016 and I can tell you, Carrie and Kevin’s life skills are working great for them.  Kersten often comments on Kevin’s ability to fix vehicles as well as  building a secure and sound homestead for them.  Carrie mans a huge home with her kids at her elbow, learning what their mom has brought for life skills then and now.

  I know that perhaps I do spend a bit too much time alone.  Not much a joiner of clubs, home is where I am the happiest. Dennis reminds me: I am retired and I am always just a phone call away if anyone needs me, and I know where and when I am needed, and I show up.  “Do what makes you happy Grammie,” and I do.  It is a close call between hermit and introvert.  Whatever!  I am happy.

   
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  Noreen 2:18 am on February 21, 2016 Permalink
  Tags: Carrie ( 12 ), Dennis ( 40 ), Kevin ( 8 ), Orlin   

  Fresh Air Can’t Hurt 

  Dennis has gone to see his friend recovering from a bad fall on the ice.  I have taken the opportunity to open up both ends of the house for some fresh air.  Fresh air can’t hurt after a spell of cold temps, and it sure can’t hurt keeping me on the straight and narrow with my scrappy projects in my sewing studio.

  I have been in the habit of making gifts for people for decades.  I find it relaxing and allowing myself to think about each person who will be on the receiving end of the gift.  That is how I had so many scraps that ended up being finished one inch squares to put together in various patterns.

  Having a sewing studio is not foreign to me.  When Carrie was just a year old, my Dad and my Mom staked Orlin and me to a 160 acre farm not far from where my parents lived.  I was very familiar with the farm and the home, as I had spent many hours in that home and on the dooryard playing with my District 34 classmate, Marith Kurth, whose parents owned the farm.  It was a lovely story and a quarter, three bedroom home with a dry, usable basement.

  We did enjoy and make use of every square inch of that home.  It is the first home that Kevin ever knew.  It didn’t take much prodding from Carrie to teach Kevin how to navigate the steps either going up or down or out.  Without the basement, that we did finish out for a playroom and a television room, some would have said it was a small home.  Marith and her brother’s family found it suitable long past the time that grandchildren visited.

  One of the basement storage areas, Orlin converted into a sewing room.  There was a handy closet on the west end that was partitioned off for a canning cellar on the south end and a sewing storage area on north end.  It was handy as all get-out. The kids were close by, the laundry was close by and the half bathroom didn’t hurt either.  In time, the sewing room had enough room in it for a 4-harness rug loom to be added.  Sewing studios have been a part of me for over fifty years.

  Back to the one inch squares.  In today’s world, I would not have made anything from which these scraps evolved.  I am onto larger pieces of fabric.  Fifteen or sixteen years ago, I did make gifts for the gals who worked for me in the courthouse.  Once I got into the swing of all things being an inch, my sister-in-laws each received one, as well as my mom, my daughter, and a niece, Erin.  Wouldn’t you know it?  I had scraps left.

  Today, with the fresh air wafting through the home, it was time to get serious and put scraps to use once and for all.  I never throw very much away if I can envision something coming out of the depths of a storage box. Several years ago, when granddaughter Megan was going to receive her first American Girl Doll, daddy Jeremy emailed me.  He was handcrafting a doll bed and wanted to know if I could make the bedding, complete with a quilt for it.  No problem.  At that time, out came the one inch square happy scraps.  Now today, the batting and backing has been determined as well as the bindings being cut.  Dennis already had marveled over the potholders that were whipped out earlier from quilt squares that had not made the cut. He knew I would not back down until this group of projects would be finished.  It is fun to have an item here or there for an unsuspecting visitor to our home.  Happy scrapper quilter sucking in fresh air: happy home.

   
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  Noreen 1:18 am on July 4, 2015 Permalink
  Tags: Carrie ( 12 ), Esther ( 2 ), Kevin ( 8 ), Orlin, Orlin. 4th of July   

  I Had Not Realized What Was Going On 

  Our day started at six this morning as the new coffee pot was going off.  Dennis had agreed to keep his nephew Brett company on a trip into Wisconsin to pick up a new trailer for Brett’s concrete company.  I did get up long enough to put the morning news on the TV. and lay back down to take in the whatever news I could focus on.

  By eight the boys were on the road and I had had several cups of coffee.  I didn’t really have anything planned for the day and a bit of laziness had set in.  Butter Ball and Snuggles stayed around the porch as we enjoyed the sound of the Morning Doves in the background.  Neighbor Jan was out and about early and we exchanged a few gardening tidbits.  Coffee cup was empty and I headed back into the house.  The cats followed me to the door as if they knew all too well that Dennis was not going to be hanging out with them for the day.  Sorry guys, no cats in the house.

  Fast forward and here it is 1:30 in the afternoon.  The refrigerator is stocked from the grocery store with choices of ingredients to fix meals. The dollar store’s bag of jelly beans at $1.00 each . . . Dennis now has several of those bags next to his computer.  There is two lbs of bacon that has been baked out for use in days to come.  Dennis had expressed that a bowl of potato salad would be good this weekend and that has been prepared and chilling in the refrig, complete with chives from our garden for garnish added to it.  Chocolate Chip cookies are on cooling rakes on the dining room table.  A wonderful looking seedless watermelon has been cubed and is chilling to be enjoyed at will.  All of the garbage from the prep is out in the Waste Management garbage container.  The buzzer has gone off on the clothes dryer several minutes ago and I have folding to do.

  What has gone on with the day that found me welcoming a lazy daisy type of day?  It is the day before the 4th of July.  This day for many years had been THE prep day for the family picnic Orlin and I would host on the 4th of July for many, many years.  My family and Orlin’s all gathered for a day of family fun.  It also happened to be Kevin’s birthday on the 4th and so why the heck not have a blowout like neither family had ever seen.  Orlin’s nephew, Frank, would give rides in a trailer behind the riding lawn mower for the little ones.  Lawn games were everywhere on our sprawling lawn.  Balloons seemed to float in the air at will. Several of the empty huge wooden electrical spools were used as severing tables, and let me tell you, they  overflowed with all the potluck items that had been brought.  The huge shade trees made a canopy of ongoing shade to sit under.  When eyelids of the adults became heavy due to good and rich food, there was an outbreak of music.  Orlin’s mother on her harmonica and my uncle Norman on his concertina had everyone thumping their feet before long. Both needed no music, they played by ear.   Most of the people attending were dairy farmers.  Morning chores had gotten done and the welcome mat was out with no time table. Noon was a great time to start the picnic singing the song everyone was familiar with . . . “Be present at our table Lord – – – .”  By four in the afternoon the crown would thin out, as again, there were chores to tackle.  Needless to say, there was one very weary birthday boy that we could count on to be easily contained as Orlin and I did the diary and livestock chores.  Big sister Carrie had it easy to keep a check on him.  Priceless.

  Sometimes when I get lost in memories that are oh so sweet, I kick into automatic overdrive, and today was such a day.  It’s not as if any of the aforementioned items completed in my kitchen will not be enjoyed and appreciated by Dennis and me, as we spend the weekend at home.  What went on here today is a portion of my life, that has been made oh so sweet by times past.  I am here to tell you, I am up for a lot more sweetness to carry me on.