The phone rang. I answered even before the first ring was complete. Mrs. Werne? You have a very sick little boy. Pack a bag right now and take him to Riley Hospital. Don’t stop for anything. The date was Saturday, July 25, 2003. The little boy was James. He was only three years old. Friday evening, James wasn’t quite right. He threw up (doubly gross because Gary had brought him a blueberry slushy to drink). As I washed James off…
Does anyone else feel conflicted about blueberries? They’ve rolled in and out of my life over the years, with mixed reviews. Let’s start with 1961. Apparently I just loved a bowl of fresh blueberries and cream. Mom even wrote a poem about it: For Paula, Who Is Three Tomorrow (I won’t be able to do it then) Who likes blueberries, blueberries, blueberries …all of the children in our house. For we have small and padded bearswho sit on small and…
Did you get hit with crazy cold temperatures this past week? Snow for some, overnight freezing temps for many more. Rita, my mother-in-law, would always say it’s “the Iceman” making mischief when there’s a cold snap in late April or early May. She warned not to plant crops (and flowers) too early in the spring. Tuesday afternoon, Farmer Gary dashed over to the home place to cover the geraniums his sister Sharon and her husband, Mike, planted a few weeks…
Growing up, we all knew better than to ask Mom who her favorite was, as the answer was always the same. With three sons and a daughter to choose from, it was just impossible. “You’re all my favorites,” she’d say. Well. Apparently when it came to her hundreds of poems, Mom did have an extra warm feeling for a select few. In this recording, her college friend Mary Fleming interviews Mom and poses that age-old question: As mentioned in the…
Veta Louise Simmons, I thought you were dead! That is one of many funny bits from the play Harvey. Elderly, yet still glamorous, snooty Mrs. Ethel Chauvenet knows how to make an entrance. Her niece, Veta Louise, also up there in years, is mortified that Aunt Ethel might find out about Harvey. Veta’s brother, Elwood, has befriended Harvey, who just happens to be a 6’3″ white rabbit, visible only to him. If you haven’t seen the 1950 movie, rest assured…
I always looked forward to seeing my Aunt Janet when our families got together. The middle of Dad’s three younger sisters, Jan was not one to get lost in the shuffle. Born on August 4, 1934, Janet grew up knowing not everyone receives the gift of robust health. Of her mom‘s nine pregnancies (including a set of twins), only five survived. Grandma struggled with anemia those years and spent some time in the hospital. I’ll always wonder if those early…
Today is the anniversary of V-E Day. That’s “Victory in Europe Day,” the day the Allies accepted Nazi Germany’s unconditional surrender in World War II. Gary’s Dad, Andrew, celebrated in Austria. A soldier there with the U.S. Army, he had to wait his turn to make it back home. There was a “point system” and as a single fellow he had fewer points than those returning to wives and children. Andrew was a long way from home, but he’d survived…
Did you see those book-banning fools are at it again? In Alaska, they’re quivering with fear at the thought of their young darlings reading Catch 22 or (gasp!) The Great Gatsby. As if that’s not embarrassing enough, when it’s discussed around the world – especially by the country that gave us Queen Victoria – it’s time to simply duck under the covers with a good book and read ’til it’s safe to come out again. Happily, banned books tend to…
“Goose! You know BEE-thoven?!“ Cameron was stunned that I recognized the piano piece he’d just finished. Yes, Cam. In fact it was the wedding song played when Papaw and I got married. “Goose! You and Papaw are married?!” Clearly we need to talk about the fact that Gary and I haven’t just been shacking up all these years. Cameron is our constant delight. Our joy. Looking back even further than our 1982 nuptials, I realize Beethoven’s 9th Symphony has always…
For the past decade or so, I made a point of not deleting voicemails from my mom. Knowing she wouldn’t be around forever, I wanted to have a way to still hear her voice. But last spring as I prepared to retire, I “wiped” my work phone without saving the messages. Darn it! If only I’d thought to ask any one of my sons for help, surely we could have preserved those precious files. Happily, something even better has turned…