Tag: memories

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The Gift of Friends

“No friendship is an accident. ”
― O. Henry, Heart of the West

Today is the birthday of three of my friends.

Happy Birthday, Jodi, Linda, and Jim.

Each of you came into my life at different times, each bringing your own special and unique gifts. I am so thankful.

As I take a walk down Memory Lane, the first person I’d meet is Linda. Linda and I were friends in grade school and junior high. She always had a smile and was full of energy. I loved her for her sense of adventure. She seemed fearless. An added bonus was the fact that my Dad knew her parents meaning I could actually go to her house after school. Linda lived in the country. For a town kid like me, that was so incredibly special because that meant I got to ride the bus. I never knew what to expect when we arrived at her house “out in the country.”

Now…I have to confess…as fearless as Linda was I was her direct counterbalance in this Universe. I was afraid of EVERYTHING.

Of course, I could not act like I was afraid so I had to devise all kinds of maneuvers to appear to be just fine with whatever it was we needed to get done as far as completing her chores. The most consistent thing to challenge my acting ability was the Houdini escape pig who always seemed to get out just before the school bus arrived. That pig was HUGE in my skinny little town kid eyes! It was our job to herd that big beast back home to the pen. I spent more time and energy running in some sort of zig-zag pattern making every effort to stay as far away from the pig as possible. I really really really disliked that hog. I was little, if any, help. We (meaning Linda) did eventually get him back where he belonged. Thank you, Linda Wendt Mossman, for being a friend then and now. Happy Birthday.

The next person I’d meet on the stroll today would be Jodi. She was one of the first people I met after moving to Waterloo from Traer. What a culture shock for me–moving from a small community school to a small city school. I was scared to death most of that first month of school. Jodi and I had many things in common–which neither one of us really shared until we were much older. I think kids are so open we felt our common bonds even without speaking about them. She never ever gave up on me and was successful in breaking me out of the house for different get-togethers. I was so grateful to her for never having to explain some of the craziness she saw going on at our house. Now, we laugh about some of those times. After we graduated we stayed close friends until I moved to Denver in the mid-eighties. I still miss those weekend nights when we would sit around her kitchen table and share stories from our week. When I count my blessings, Jodi McGrane Verbraken is definitely at the top of the list. Happy Birthday, my dear friend who has been by my side for so many life-changing things. I cherish you and love you.

The person furthest down memory lane is Jim. I met Jim and his wife, Jan, at a little RV park in one of the most beautiful places on this planet. Michael and I had our RV parked in Pleasant Valley, in the little town Howard, along the Arkansas River,  for many years. Jim and Jan and many others used this little spot along the river as a weekend getaway when we were all still working in Denver. I didn’t get a chance to really get to know Jim until we had retired. Both Jim and his wife, Jan, have the most contagious laughs on the planet along with being two of the most giving people on the planet. I am so grateful I have them as friends. Happy Birthday, Jim Finegan. I am looking forward to seeing you and Jan next week.

It’s not Carolyn’s birthday today but that is her needlepoint wall hanging I am using as my story photo. Carolyn and I worked together at St. Francis Hospital in Waterloo, Iowa, for many many years. I carried this little wall hanging with me for decades–some of the age shows around the edges. I hung it where I could see it every morning–its last place was just inside my closet door–Carolyn greeted me every day before I hit the road to work. When we sold our house and became full-time RVers, I had to let many things go. This was one. So, tearfully I took a picture of it, knowing it would now be well-preserved. Thank you, Carolyn Nederhoff for this wonderful gift that symbolized our friendship and helped get me through my working days without your giving spirit. I think of you often and send you my love today. I hope one of our old hospital gang will share this with you. Many hugs sent to you today and always.

“A spiritual connection with someone lasts forever, even when physical presence fades.”
― Danielle Barone

I am…

B…simply being…

I am blessed and I am grateful.

~Peace~

 

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A Treasury

“I look around the room and can’t help but think about how it is the little things we look back on in life. I wonder how often people think that they should pay more attention to them.”
― Erika Lance, Behind the Veil

Sometimes the smallest thing creates the biggest buzz.

The picture I posted yesterday caught a lot of people’s eyes. What a joy today has been. Thanks to all who took time to make a comment and fill in some names and historical notes.

This being Friday, if we all could go back in time, we’d be making plans to go out for our usual Friday Happy Hour–or as we so reverently called it back then, P.O.E.T.S. Club. For those of you who don’t know the term, it stands for Piss On Everything Tomorrow’s Saturday. Trust me, after a week in a busy radiology department, you needed to let off some steam. With this group, there was never a shortage of hot air or alcohol at our Friday gatherings.

Faces, names, and stories have been streaming through my mind all day. At the time of yesterday’s picture, the workplace was very different–at least for this small group. The people I worked with were my extended family and just as dysfunctional as my real life family. We may not have always liked each other but we cared about one another. We worked hard together and we played harder. We were young, adventuresome, clueless, and, thank God, lucky.

These years taught me to never underestimate the value of luck or take for granted the kindness of friends. What a wonderful treasury of memories I’ve rediscovered.

  “A good friend is a connection to life – a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.”
― Lois Wyse

Have a great weekend, my friends. Take some time to reach out to some old friends.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love and peace, y’all.

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A Memory-filled Monday

It’s Monday, the week of Thanksgiving.

There are so many thoughts spinning through my mind today.

One of the first thoughts flying through my mind this morning was sparked by the guys working so hard picking up our trash. God bless them, especially today, bulk trash day. On this day, whatever homeowners drag out to the curb, they pick up. The amazing part–the guys picking up bulk stuff walk/run behind the truck–like the old days.

So, what makes this memorable?

To explain that involves storytelling and a disciplined search through old newspaper clippings. As I watched these guys work, I remembered being part of a newspaper article written many years ago when I was working at St. Francis Hospital in Waterloo, Iowa. I’d just finished my two-year radiologic technology program. I was newly married and needed a job. My classmate, Mary, was lucky. She’d found her niche in nuclear medicine and had been offered a job covering that part of the department. Me? That was turning out to be more difficult. Our growing department had very busy times which were almost consistent enough to warrant another full-time person. With some creativity on someone’s part during a time when budgets were more flexible, I was offered a job as a “jack of all trades.” My job description had no black and white details–it was purposefully fuzzy gray. I was okay with that. I knew I was the newest of the new–a neophyte. I needed to be and was open to anything.

This was in the early to mid 70’s. The hospital was in the early stages of starting a cardiac rehab program. Part of the rehab protocol involved having a treadmill stress test as part of the initial cardiac evaluation. In addition to the rehab program, treadmill testing would be available for diagnostic testing. The team needed a non-nurse medical person watching for EKG changes. Those creative thinkers had found a niche I could call mine.

Because I’ve spent a lot of time lately going through all my older pictures, I found this one pretty quickly. Looking over all the different details represented in this photo, I smiled as I realized it represented the very beginning of my career. A career that would expand in many different directions, into other areas, and play out in other areas of the country for the next forty years.

Today, as I watched out the office window, in my mind I saw one of my favorite treadmill patients. His test lasted so long we had an audience of people observing him run and run and run. We’d progressed through all the stages quickly because we were unable to move his heart rate much above his resting rate. He was rock steady. No arrhythmias, no segment changes, no chest pain.

Finally, we asked him what he did for a living.

He smiled, chuckled, and replied, “I work for the city. I’m a garbage man. I run like this every single day.”

Laughter filled the room. Looking at each other, we shrugged our shoulders while wondering what to do next.

I can still see him looking around at us, smiling as he continued to run.

Finally, we admitted defeat. We stopped the test. His recovery time was unmeasurable–ours–not so much.

My Monday gratitude list focuses on my career. What a gift it was and continues to be as I remember those who were part of my life in such monumental ways. For my entire career, I was in a front row seat as the imaging field exploded in so many different directions.

I am thankful I have the time to remember, reflect, and share my memories of what became my life’s calling. Oh, at the time I certainly did not have such a positive take on it all. Then it was just the day-to-day “stuff.”

Now, I realize how fortunate I was to be where I was, when I was, with all the people I was with–sharing a journey that took us on a very unpredictable ride.

I am…

B…simply being…

I love Y’all.

Peace

 

 

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Random Thoughts on​ Gratitude

I’m sure I’m not the only person feeling weary this week.

I can’t pinpoint the event that pushed me from tired to full, blown-out weary. At some point, I’d crossed over.

Challenges, like little knights atop armored steeds charging the castle, were aligning themselves across the horizon of Hibdonville.

I knew there was only one way to stop the charge. I had to gather up my blessings.

This is what I found. A picture of our friend, Dayne’s retirement.

A picture of our friend, Dayne’s, at his retirement celebration.

Sometimes God gives me what I call a “pay attention to this because I am only going to do this once,” type of gift. This is how this “God Wink” played out.

I was up earlier than usual so I could finish up yard work before it got too hot. As my pre-work motivation, I’d given myself a few minutes of computer time. The first thing I saw that morning was a post written by Dayne’s daughter. Today was her Dad’s last day of work.

Our plans changed, thanks to Facebook. We flew into high gear and made it to the party with time to spare. This last-minute change fueled the details for one of my best memories. The priceless look of surprise on Dayne’s face, the laughter shared among old friends, and the pure joy of being there.

It was a day filled with gifts we all gave to each other and a gift appreciated again today.

I am…

B…simply being.

Love and peace Y’all.

 

 

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A Lunch at Killians

“It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn’t use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like “What about lunch?”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

I found this picture today as I was organizing my desk–AGAIN. It is a picture packed with memories.

It is a picture packed with memories.

The picture was taken sometime in the 1980’s. I’d recently divorced and this was the house I had to keep. I thought it was the most amazing little house on the planet. I loved this little place.

This picture was taken in the living room. The little wicker desk was my Dad’s sister, Ruby’s, and fit this space perfectly. What caught my attention today was what surrounded this desk. It was such a nice surprise, I had to share.

The macrame wall hanging and the plant hanger were gifts from my friend, Mary. When we downsized from our home in Colorado to our RV two-plus years ago, choices had to be made. These three items did not make the cut so I was so happy to find this picture.

While I smiled at the princess phone sitting on the desk and the little bottle of wine on the mantle,  I remembered a lunch date Mary and I made with each other shortly after we passed our boards. That was no small feat–we wanted to do something special.

Over the years we had shared our stories about going with our older relatives to a Tea Room for special occasions. Mary had gone with her Grandmother to the Tea Room at Killians in Cedar Rapids. I had gone with my great-aunt to the Tea Room at Brandies in Omaha. We both felt we had to have this type of experience again. So we dressed up and headed to Cedar Rapids the next day we had time off.

Cool. A road trip.

Mary picked me up and we headed to Cedar Rapids from Waterloo. It took us about two hours, arriving just in time for lunch. We did a quick pass through the store but our goal was lunch. We followed the signs to the Tea Room. There was no person to greet us–our first clue–so we found our own seats. We waited at our little table. We waited and waited.

There was one older waitress who was literally running from person to person. It was not busy–maybe three or four other people in the dining room–but she was working hard to cover a lot of square footage as quickly as she could maneuver.

This was not the Killians’ Tea Room Mary remembered and nothing like my memories of the Tea Room in Omaha. Even with the subdued lighting, we could see that the furniture was cracked and worn, the carpet threadbare, and there were none of the special touches we expected to see on the tabletops. No cloth tablecloths or napkins. No flowers. Nothing. We didn’t even see menus.

We were beginning to think we were invisible. Our waitress, whose name I remembered for a long time, would glance our way but not venture further. Maybe she thought we’d leave? Well–she did not know the two of us–we had talked about this lunch forever. We’d driven all the way down from Waterloo for this lunch. We weren’t going anywhere.

With a head shake and a loud sigh, she headed our way. Head down, arms swinging, order tablet flipping back and forth in her hand. As she got closer, she put her hand in her pocket, took out two short yellow pencils, turned her order pad around, and threw all of the above at our table.

With a tone of voice that told us not to ask any questions, she said, “Write what you want!”

We’d been watching her but were still caught off guard. Quickly, we each grabbed the different flying objects. We quickly decided it was smart to just write down something that would be fast and easy. I remember writing grilled cheese sandwich–so much for special. Whatever we had, we ate quickly and got out of there fast.

We still laugh about that day. I wish Mary was sitting here beside me so she could fill in all those details I am forgetting.

Little did we know that this was just the beginning of many years of experiences like this. Thank you, Mary, for being one of the best things that ever happened to me. God bless you.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love and peace, Y’all.

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My Stories

I’ve had the past couple of days to myself –which usually means I am tearing things apart and/or re-arranging something. I was concentrating so hard on what I was doing, I lost track of time. I knew I needed to finish up so I could write my story of the day. A thought that surprised me. Today’s the first time I realized I considered myself a storyteller. I have to say, I  like that. I also realized how much I enjoy sharing my thoughts here.

Is it easy? No. Deciding what to write and share is difficult some days. Some stories I put on hold because I know they will take much more time to pull out of my head. Others–flow so easily they almost feel like they write themselves.

I found this picture today as I was re-arranging storage spaces. It was taken in October of 1991. I had flown to Austin, Texas, to meet Michael’s family. I think we were at The Oasis. From left to right, the cast of characters–characters being the operative word–Michael, Irving, Michael’s sister’s boyfriend, now her husband, Michael’s sister Neva, and Michael’s Mom.

It was a whirlwind trip filled with all the sites of Austin. We had an extra day of exploration because of an early snowstorm that closed the airport in Denver. It was my first experience of leaving one airport in shorts and flip-flops and arriving home in Denver to snow on the ground.

As I think back on this time, I’m awestruck by how quickly the time has passed. In a blink of an eye, twenty-six years have flown by us. Michael’s Mom and Dad passed away ten years ago. When I do the math, which is always questionable when I am the one doing the calculating, I think I am the age Michael’s Mom was in this picture. Once again, God is giving me a strong message to live each day.

I am passing on that message to all of you. Live and love today. Of all the things we know for sure these days, it is the fact that tomorrow is not promised to any of us. Hold onto each other and enjoy each day with all your heart.

I am…

B…simply being…

I love you.

Peace

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They Say It’s Your Birthday

Sixty-four years ago today, I began this grand adventure called life.

I have been fortunate and very blessed–not to mention just plain ol’ lucky.

By the grace of God, people have been placed in my life at times when I needed them the most. Now, the question may arise as to whether some helped me or if they actually lead me off course for a while. Either way, whichever column you place people in, they all played a part in allowing me to grow and become the person I am today. Because of these wonderful and eclectic folks, I am alive. I am well. I am.

Sounds to me like it’s time for a walk down memory lane so I can share a story.

The summer after I completed eighth grade, my family moved from the small town of Traer, Iowa, to the city of Waterloo, Iowa. I don’t remember when I realized this huge change was happening. My family was not big on family meetings or sharing information. What I’d expected to be the start of my freshman year of high school, with kids I had been with since kindergarten, morphed into years of unforeseen changes and challenges. All that was comfortable and familiar in my life was packed away and dismissed that summer. Like it or not, I was off to a new life in a new town in a new house in a new school with new kids.

This was one of the most difficult times in my life. By luck or by an act of God, I landed in a place where I found wonderful and generous friends. Kids who welcomed me into their circle of friends. Wonderful people who are still in my life today.

That year my birthday fell on a day when we did not have school because it was opening day for the National Cattle Congress. What? Could anything sound more Iowan? Cattle Congress is an annual event that’s been part of the Waterloo culture for decades. It was and remains a mixture of a stock show, a fair, and a carnival. It was the perfect place for a group of young kids to go and hang together while checking out all the out-of-town boys. I was so excited. My new group of friends asked me to go with them AND my Dad and stepmother said I could go.

I did not realize my friends knew it was my birthday. Not only was it my birthday, but it was also my new friend, Margie’s birthday. At the end of the day, after talking and learning about the new people in my life, both Margie and I had birthday presents to open. The gifts were supposed gag gifts–meant to be funny. To me, that present was my new lifeline. As I type, I can still see that little-ribbed glass jar which held green, medicinal smelling stick deodorant.  A joke? Okay, but to me, it was a precious gift. Something that gave me hope for my future.

This is such a nice memory to have and carry with me as I continue on my life journey. It is also a reminder that a gift does not have to be big to be special. Kinda like that surprise phone call I just had with my friend, Dave. That was so thoughtful. Thank you, Dave.

There is so much joy in an act of simple kindness.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love Y’all.

Peace

 

 

 

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Home Perms

Every day, I am surprised by the memories that come to me by way of pictures.

Today, my share and tell revolves around my favorite school picture.

Yes, dear Kathy, this is my example of the infamous home perm.

This picture was taken after my very first perm–an event I begged for every day for weeks. My mom’s criteria never changed: my hair had to be long enough to wrap around her index finger.

Every day, at least once, I’d ask her to check. Finally, the day arrived–my hair passed her inspection!

I was ready.

Mom told me that there were a lot of steps to the process, sitting still was a very important part of each step. My memory of this summer afternoon is a clear one: I am sitting on a kitchen chair with my hands tucked under me in an effort to stay still. This being still stuff was very hard for me. I was a nervous little kid–biting my nails, swinging my legs, all while using my hands in an effort to ensure whatever I was saying was clearly understood.

Yes, it’s obvious, my mother was a saint.

She waited me out, reminding me to sit still while wrapping and rewrapping the rods until every hair was secured. With this done, we headed to the sink, where I laid back as she poured strong smelling perm solution over each and every rod. When each rod was saturated, she placed a shower cap on my head and directed me back to my chair.

We waited…for what seemed like hours.

With my hair neatly arranged in rows of colored rods, the solution had a straight shot down each and every row. I can still feel that solution as it made its way toward my eyes, into my ears, and down the back of my neck.

I was miserable but I did not complain–much.

I was going to have curls.

This “curing” time was when home perms got tricky. Too much time and the hair would be really frizzy. Too little time, not much curl.

We needed it to be just right.

When time was up, it was back to the sink where the solution was rinsed off–another solution applied to stop the curling action, and those pesky rods removed. Who knew something so simple could feel so wonderful?

I remember Mom calling this first perm the test run. She said it was good we did it when we did because there was time for my hair to relax some before picture day.

I remember thinking I looked so good.

I was very happy–my face says it all.

I felt that my mom and I had done a good job. I was proud of us.

I feel the same today.

Miss you, Mom.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love you.

Peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Musical Memories

It’s Friday. I may be retired, but being retired does not take the “specialness” away from Fridays.

Friday is one of our water aerobic days. I love being able to exercise again without feeling like I am destroying my body. Today was special because of some of the music.

I’m always surprised by the emotions music can stir–even while working to get your heart rate up and stay somewhat coordinated–a feat that often eludes me.

Today, one of the first songs spurring me on was, “I’m Henry the Eighth I am”, the original one, by Herman’s Hermits. Oh, my heavens. I don’t think I have heard that song for decades.  As I listened, I was transported back to 8th grade. I could see all my former North Tama classmates climbing onto the buses which would take us to the school house in Dinsdale, Iowa, the site for our junior high. The trip was a fairly short and one we made regardless of the weather.

We would often sing as we rode down Highway 63. At least that is what I remember–the singing, talking and planning for the day ahead. As I thought about this, I couldn’t help but wonder how different that whole experience would have been if we were taking that same ride today. Would we even be talking to each other? Or would we all be in our own little spaces looking at our cell phones?

The other song that made me smile played shortly after that. As it began, I recognized it right away. I wanted to run over and turn it up. “Celebration” by Kool and the Gang. As this played out over the pool I saw an entirely different time in my life. I had “grown up” but I still had a lot of growing up to do. I had a precious group of friends who were also mostly co-workers. I was and am very lucky. This is something else that does not happen in today’s world. We worked and partied hard. Whenever we were together, this song playing often. As it played I would often declare it to be the song playing if I ever got married again.

Two very different songs that helped me remember two very special times in my life. I am grateful.

Because it’s Friday I am sharing my latest book. Setting Free The Kites, by Alex George.  It’s a story of two teenage boys, Robert Carter and Nathan Tilly. They meet on their first day of school in 1976. Their friendship is formed quickly by two tragic events.

What made this book important to me was one of the story lines. Robert’s brother, Liam, has Duchenne muscular dystrophy. Working in medical imaging, I had several patients over the years with muscular dystrophy. Reading about Liam, his bravery as he battled his disease, and the effects it had on his family was well done, enlightening, and heartbreaking.

Because the book impressed me, I want to share some snippets. With the nature of Liam’s disease, I don’t feel that I’m giving anything away.

“Oh, Liam,” she whispered. “You were the best boy there ever was.” She kissed his cheek, breathing him in, baptizing him with her tears. But no matter how tightly she squeezed, how fiercely she clung, she could not hold on to him. 

Some time after that, we stumbled out into the rest of our lives. 

…On the window shelf was a half-drunk bottle of Gatorade and a paperback of The Great Gatsby…He had only made it halfway through. I wondered whether he had given up on it or if he’d been planning to finish it when he returned home from the hospital. 

There were unfinished stores everywhere.

For me, the book was perfect because I have been doing so much reflecting on my own childhood. The book is serious but also very funny and always entertaining. The characters in this book reminded me of many people from my own childhood. Grab it and travel back to the 70’s.

I am…

B…simply being…

Have a safe and restful weekend.

Love and peace, Y’all.

 

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Thinking

Today has been a day to think. One that I think I’ll grab a tall glass of chilled white wine as I write about it.

Michael and I watched the first Cars movie a few days ago. I love that movie. Today we were on the way to an appointment and saw an old truck that looked just like Mater. Because Michael had just seen the movie, he pointed it right away. That just made me smile. It is just one of the best things about being with another person for a long time–you can share a lot of things without saying a lot of words. These days, I appreciate that more than I can even begin to share here.

Seeing the Mater look-alike made me think about my favorite quotes from that movie. Mater is talking to Lightening as he circles around him. McQueen is so impressed because Mater is going so fast and in REVERSE. The tone of admiration is lost on Mater. He replies: “Shoot, I don’t need to know where I’m going, I just need to know where I’ve been.”

Exactly.

I need to know where I’ve been. The more I remember, the more important remembering becomes to me.

I am enjoying looking back–most of the time.

The dynamic is very interesting–to say the very least. My working platform is based on memories from my very young and innocent self. This fact alone is a set up for some inner conflict because the so-called adult mind that is now working to de-code all of this is no longer young nor innocent.

Onward we go.

Day by day.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love and peace, y’all.