Throwback Thursday: Memories of My Youth in Leadville, Colorado

It snowed last night.  Some schools here were on a delay start. Snow is causing all kinds of problems for so many people this year.  It seems that SNOW is the big story this year.  Thinking of snow, school delays, and icy road brought back many memories of my youth in Leadville, Colorado.

I've written about Leadville before, but just as a reminder,  Leadville, at two miles high,  is the highest incorporated city in the United States.  The average snowfall in Leadville is 127 inches a year.   It also averages 310 days of sunshine a year.  It is a beautiful place to live.  It also is a challenging place to live because of the altitude and the snow.  I loved living there in my youth from ages 17 until age 20.  Some of those years were spent in college, so I mostly just lived there during my senior year in high school and during the summers when I was in college.

We lived in reclaimed baggage and freight building that had been turned into a house when my father was transferred to Leadville as an agent for the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad.  We had to live in company housing as part of the requirement for the job.  This old baggage building was gutted by my father and redone before he would move us into this old place
.  The building no longer stands where it did in the railroad yards.  It has been moved to another location and serves as a storage shed.  Once this place was home to me.  It holds many dear memories.


The main part of the building was our living room, dining room, my parents' bedroom, and there was also a long narrow room on the left rear of this building that we used as a t.v. room and a place where my brother would stay when he was in town.  The attached building at the rear was the bedroom that my sister and I shared.  There was a partition about two-thirds of the way into this room that provided an additional "room" that served as a bedroom for my youngest sister.  At the back of the building, there was another addition that no longer exists.  This addition housed the kitchen and the bathroom.  

Winters in this house were both cosy and cold.  It depended on where you were in the house.  The house house was heated by a Stokermatic coal stove that looked a bit like this:


Guess where the warmest place in the house was.  You are right if you guessed that is was on top of this stove or standing in front of it.  The stove was located in the dining room which was right next to our bedroom  (Third window in the photo of the house was the dining room.  Fourth photo in the house was my bedroom.)

Memory of Winter Mornings

We never went to bed dreaming of snow days during the winter in Leadville.  Never.  In 2012, there was quite a stir because there was a snow day called in Leadville.  Many said it was the first snow day ever called in Leadville. On a cold winter night, my sis and I would turn on our electric blankets and try to stay warm.  I don't even remember where my youngest sister slept in the winter because we had to close off her room and hang heavy blankets over the doorway to this room in the winter because the heat never got back to this part of the house.  The window of that room would have a thick layer of ice on the inside of the window throughout the winter.   Our room was pretty cold, but we would stay quite warm in our beds until we would be awakened around 4:00 a.m. by the snowplow outside our window.  On mornings when the snowfall was heavy during the night, the snowplow drivers were out early to get the roads plowed.  Snow was not a surprise, and there was a plan, when it snowed in that tiny mountain community.  The dirt road right near our house was plowed because the Standard Oil bulb plant was right next door.  Mr. Carson had to be able to make deliveries of propane oil no matter what the weather.  My father had to keep the trains running.  We were plowed out early.  

Sometimes when the early morning snow plows awakened me, I would actually get out of the toasty bed and make my way to the window to see how much snow had fallen.  Memories of those early mornings when the town was asleep under its thick blanket of snow are precious.  I recall being mesmerized by thousands of silent fluffy flakes falling to the ground outside my window. Soon, chilled, but peaceful,  I'd make my way back to bed.  When my mother would awake me for school, I had an early morning college-prep English class at 7:00 a.m., I would resist getting up until the last possible moment.  Once up, I would run into the next room and stand in front of the Stokermatic coal stove to get warm.  My father had been up early to get the coal into the stove so the house would be warm.  Before I made my quickly executed move from the bed to the furnace, I had gathered my clothes.  These were placed on top of the furnace to heat up so I could put on warm clothes.  

This photo reminds me of the place where the ashes would come out of the stove.  Daddy put the coal in the stove.  Mother emptied the ashes.  I luxuriated in the warmth the stove gave off and did not even think of the work that went into keeping me warm.  


Side note:  The time frame for this story is the winter of 1962 - 63,  In Leadville, where we lived, we still heated with coal in the main part of the house.  The coal that heated the house was railroad coal that was provided as part of the salary for my father's job.  The company, The Denver and Rio Grande Railroad, paid for our house and our coal. The agent was given these perks.  One would not consider these perks these days.  The coal was delivered by the work crew from the railroad. It was stored in a coal shed behind the house.  We had left a brand new house in Pueblo, Colorado when my father was promoted to this job in Leadville. At the time, I wondered how this house, and this job was a promotion.  It seemed to me we were going back in time, and, I guess in some ways we were.

Never one for breakfast in those days, on those early school mornings,  my mother would hand me toast as I made my way out the backdoor to the car.  My father would drive me to school on these early snowy mornings as he was on his way to Malta (Click to read about the rich history of Malta.) which was the actual railroad stop on the D&RG line.  (The main train itself did not come into Leadville.)  I have this photo taken in the 60's of my mother with an oil painting she did for my father of Malta.  It was taken inside the depot that was my father's office. I wish I had a better photo of the painting because it is quite beautiful.  I will have to take one.  I'm proud to say my mother is a very accomplished artist.



When I was a young girl in Leadville, I remember the snow being up to my knees more than once.  As my dad would say, "I have the picture to prove it."  I love the backdrop of the boxcar in this photo.  Trains provided the backdrop for my life.  I am a proud railroader's daughter.  Trains are in my blood as much as the high mountain places of Colorado are there.  The D&RG provided our bread and butter and a rich family heritage as my grandfather and two of my uncles also worked for the railroad.



During those days in Leadville, my senior year in high school, I would come home to the wonderful smell of my mother's homemade vegetable, beef, and barley soup.  She would start the soup from scratch using soup bones in the morning.  She would cook the soup on top of the small propane stove that heated the back part of the house which included the kitchen and bathroom.  This was the best slow cooked soup ever.  My taste buds and watering as my memory recalls that warm soup that had simmered all day.

Hanging on the outside of the kitchen wall was wonderful old toboggan that would hold four or five people.  One winter evening, my friends and I decided it was perfect sledding weather.  We drove over to my house and stealthily removed the toboggan from the side of the house.  We had a problem with our idea: there was no way to attach the toboggan to the car.  I imagine it was Mary Carson's car.  We found a solution.  We rolled down the car windows and hung out of the windows and grasped the ropes on the side of the toboggan as we drove across town to a sledding hill.  It wasn't the best hill.  There was not a safe landing at the bottom, but our hands were frozen so we chose the first hill that looked like it would work.  The icy, clear, star-studded night was filled with our teenage laughter and screams.  Have you ever seen the star filled sky in Leadville?  If not, you have really missed out on a beautiful sight.

No doubt after sledding, we made our way back to my house to re-hang the toboggan before we headed to the Golden Burro to warm-up.  My favorite drink during those days:  hot lemonade.

When we first moved to Leadville, my father took me to the old Daniel & Fisher's Department Store and bought me good winter coat.  I loved that coat.  It was a London Fog made of a gold colored suede like fabric.  The lining was a plaid blanket.  It was so warm and beautiful.  I was set for winter with that coat.  I also had some wonderfully warm boots that were the forerunner for Uggs I think. Are these the boots, or these my sister's ?  This photo was taken front of our house.


Sad, Red-letter Day in Leadville

Today, these memories were conjured up by the sad news that an "iconic" building in Leadville collapsed under heavy snow during the night last night, January 30, 2014.  (Click here to see more photos.)  The building, located on Leadville's main street, was home to Sayer-McKee Drug for many, many years.  As the news circulated on Facebook today, many wrote of all memories made in this store.  It truly was iconic.  Some said it was the best example of a vintage drug store in the State of Colorado.  The well worn hardwood floor aisles  that I seem to remember (They were hardwood, weren't they?) were lined with shelves holding all kinds of great merchandise.  Valentine's Day, my boyfriend in high school no doubt bought the red fabric covered heart shaped candy box that I kept for years at this store.

I remember that my father had an account there.  I learned about it by chance when I went to pick up a medication one day and the pharmacist asked if he should put it on the account.  "Yes," was my quick answer.  "And could you add this to it too?" I asked as I handed him my mascara and lipstick.  Of course I was judicious in my use of this knowledge, but I must admit that I took advantage of using it.  My dad never said a word.  He just paid the bill.


Whenever we visit Leadville, I would always have to stop at Sayer-McKee.  It would seem I was entering a time-machine and my mind went back to those days of long ago.

This is a red-letter day in Leadville today for another reason: SCHOOLS WERE CLOSED.  This is truly a rare event.  It is snowing hard here in the flatlands where Colorado Springs is located.  I hear it is really, really snowing in the mountains.  I hope those in Leadville are safe and warm and not out in the elements.

Some More Memories of Leadville

  • Being the new girl in town.  
  • Hiking over Mosquito Pass right after I moved to town with my dear friend Mary Carson who passed away in 2010.  (Mary deserves an entire blog post.)
  • Remembering that when Mary first met me she said, "My dad once had a mule named Sal."
  • Being crowned homecoming queen of Leadville High School.
  • Jeep rides with friends all over those surrounding mountains.
  • Making the best friends ever.
  • Listening to "true" ghost stories at night while we sat in cars parked at the foot  abandoned mines.
  • Listening to "true" ghost stories in the cemetery.
  • Driving to the top of Vail Mountain before it was a ski mountain and a resort.
  • Our senior trip to Denver to see "How The West Was Won."
  • Senior skip day to Glenwood Springs that was nearly canceled because we had tied beer bottles on the bottom of the bus.  
  • The bus breaking down on our trip over Battle Mountain.
  • Walking through knee deep snow in my Bermuda shorts on my way to my father's office in the depot behind our house so I could type my senior paper.
  • Listening to Pete Seeger sing This Land is Your Land and Where have All The Flowers Gone? and thinking folk music spoke my language.  
  • Reading Dr. Zhivago in my English class and falling in love with Russian literature.
  • Reading War and Peace for the first time right after high school graduation.
  • Working as a carhop at the local A&W which was across the street from my house.  (I kept my tip money in the above mentioned heart shaped box.)
  • Hearing Barry Sadler sing The Green Beret for the first time while we were playing pool at a beer joint.  Barry Sadler was a Leadville boy.
  • There are so many memories, but mostly I remember the beauty of this place.  Who wouldn't want to live here?  This photo was taken where our house used to stand a few years back.  My youngest sister and I are standing in front of what was the view from our living room window. 
I hope you enjoyed reading about my memories because I had so much fun writing about them.  Now I'm off to make Mother's vegetable, beef, and barley soup.  It's snowing.  That means I make this much loved soup.

Oh, one more thing:  GO BRONCOS!!!!  View this video for a taste of Colorado in the high country.

Wrapping Up Christmas - Part III

My goal is to get this Christmas thing wrapped up before it is a month after Christmas.  I partly write these posts for family history.  I realize that the news is old, but writing blog posts become a repository for memories that I don't want to forget.  So, bear with me.  I'm nearly done with these Christmas posts.

This was an unusual trip to Utah for us.  Over the past fifteen years, we have always spent most of our time in Utah in Ogden where both daughter Keicha and son Ryan lived.  Now, Ryan is living in Bountiful which is between Salt Lake and Ogden.  This trip, we mostly stayed in Bountiful and did not make the twenty mile trip to Ogden but a few times.  This meant I didn't get to spend as much time with daughter Keicha and granddaughter Gillian as I would have liked, but we did get to have lunch a few times, and we went on quick shopping expedition so Keicha and Gillian could spend their Christmas money.

On that particular day, after a nice lunch with Keicha, I was able to also drive out with Keicha and Mike, Keicha's boyfriend, to see a project he has been working on for work.  As part of the responsibilities for his job, Mike is working on building a place where boys that are in treatment for addictions will learn woodworking.  (He works at a treatment facility as a counselor.)  These boys are using the skills they are learning to build an enormous skateboard ramp.  This ramp is connected to the wood shop and another shop where skateboard supplies are sold.  The boys in treatment work in the shop.  Mike is teaching these young men woodworking skills.  It is all quite impressive and a worthy endeavor.

 Another day, I had to make a lunch trip to one of my favorite lunch places, so I called my daughter and invited her to go along.  The draw of the restaurant:  Mormon muffins served with honey butter.  Yum.  It is sort of a tradition for Kiecha and me to go here for lunch when I am in town.  Attached to this lunch place is a fun shop where I once took my children shopping for Christmas ornaments when they were young.  I have many happy memories of this place over the years.  Here is my lovely daughter at our lunch.

The two of us...
Of course we could not go to lunch without getting muffins to go.

One day during our time in Utah, we went to Sheridan's shop in Salt Lake City.  I didn't take my camera that day, so I don't have any photographs.  I love to go shopping in my soon to be daughter-in-law's shop in the 9th and 9th area in SLC.  The name of her shop Hip and Humble more than aptly describes this great boutique.  If you live in the Salt Lake City area, you have three of these great boutiques to shop in.  There is a Hip and Humble in Salt Lake, one in Sandy, Utah, and one in Bountiful, Utah.  Sheridan is a partner with her sister in the ownership of these shops.  I'm proud of these two entrepreneurs.

As always, I can't go inside the shop without picking up a few things.  In fact, I bought that great looking scarf that I have on in the photo above at the Hip and Humble.  I also bought cute matching earrings.  And, I bought another great scarf.  It is an infinity scarf.  Sheridan, your shop is just too tempting!  I love your shop.  And, I bought a gift for my husband:  this cute picture to hang on the wall.  

While we were on our trip, my hubby really missed his big red dog.  This saying is a true saying when it comes to my husband and Boston.  His dog does own his heart.

 Jim and I combined family time in Utah with a bit of a vacation by spending three days in Salt Lake City at the downtown Marriott near the new City Creek Mall.  During out time in Salt Lake we continued to get together with family for fun activities like eating at special restaurants and going to the movies.  With the family, we saw The Hunger Games: Catching Fire.  Neither Jim nor I had seen the first movie in the series, nor had we read the books.  Surprisingly, we were captivated by the movie and quite enjoyed it. Then, the two of us saw Saving Mr. Banks.  We loved that movie.

Funny story:  On our way to see the movie early one evening, Jim and I walked past a restaurant we thought Ryan had told us about as being a place he wanted to go with us.  I sent a text that said, "Just walked past the Copper. Do you want to meet us there for dinner after we see the movie."  The reply, "Sure, we will drive down and get a table because it is hard to get a reservation.  Txt us when the movie is over."  So, when the movie was over we texted that we were on our way.  We walked a couple of blocks in the cold winter evening air to the Copper Canyon Restaurant that we had seen earlier.  The problem was that this particular restaurant was not crowded as Ryan said it would be, nor was Ryan anywhere to be found inside.  I called him.  He said the restaurant was right next door to the theater.  I said that was impossible.  We finally realized that Jim and I had gone to a different theater than Ryan thought we had, and I had not specified the name of the restaurant we had walked past in my text.  I just call it The Copper.  Talk about miscommunication.   That's what I get for shortening how many words I write in a text.   Number One Son soon drove over to where we were, picked us up, and took us the right restaurant which was the  Copper Onion.  Wow, what a neat place.  We had a wonderful "adult" dinner that night.

One day Jim and I spent the entire day just walking all over SLC shopping and enjoying a few special meals.  Our breakfast at Eva's Bakery and Cafe was outstanding.  Not only is the food delicious, but the ambiance is really special.

When we went inside for our leisurely breakfast, the weather outside was pretty awful.  It was cold and smoggy.  When we walked outside, I actually let out a bit of shout.  The sun was shining, and I saw something I had not seen in days:  our shadow.


We spent the rest of day exploring the mall.  We had our shoes shined at Nordstroms.


And, I bought my man a new hat.  It is a wool, water resistant cap made by Wigens. He had actually not brought a hat on our trip, and he needed one in the cold winter weather when we were out walking.  This cap even has earflaps.  So far, the cap has been worn daily as Jim take Boston on his walks.  He loves it.


A few days after Christmas, Number One Grandson, Parker, decided to go duck hunting.  His dad and I had to take his gear up to him so he good go hunting.  Yes, this kid is a true outdoorsman.  Dad is putting the rifle in Parker's Subaru.  Parker has his boots.  He is set to go.  Yes, the hunt was successful.


Before he headed out, father and son shared a quick conversation.


While we were in Utah, the flu virus that seemed to making its rounds around the nation did now pass us by.  The grandchildren were sick with terrible coughs.  I had just gotten over the same thing before our trip, and I had also just gotten over an ear infection, so I worried about getting sick again.  The air quality in Utah was poor.  This did not help matters for any of us.  Then, Jim got hit with a stomach virus that was especially nasty.  A few days later, on the night of the 30th, I also got the same stomach virus.  It was no fun.  I spent nearly all day of the last day of 2013 in bed in the hotel room very sick.  Later in the afternoon, on New Year's Eve Day, Ryan's children, Sheridan's boys, and Sheridan's niece and nephew came to the hotel where we were staying to go swimming.  I went down to watch the grandchildren romp and play in the water.  They all were having so much fun.  I couldn't help but begin to fill better just watching them all expend their great energy.  Soon, this old grandma was feeling better and smiling.

I did not want to miss the New Year's Eve party I had been looking forward to at Sheridan's sister's house.  By evening, I got dressed-up and off we went to ring out the old year.  I was not sorry to see the year go.  The party was great.  The food looked outstanding, but I wasn't quite ready to eat anything.  I enjoyed the party despite having been ill.  I especially enjoyed my visit with Sheridan's sister's mother-in-law. It was great to meet and get to know Ryan and Sheridan's friends.  Some of these friends had been Julie's friends in college.  It truly was wonderful to be at this party.

As I look back on this trip to Utah, I will remember the many moments Jim and I spent sitting at the island in Sheridan's kitchen watching my son cook us up many great meals.  I will remember drinking his special lattes that he made while we chatted and laughed.  I will remember the warmth of hospitality and family love that made this time a time to treasure.



I will remember the times with the family around the dinner table.  I will remember my son's seven day old turkey (which I did not eat.)  Did he ever really serve it?  I will remember that nothing, absolutely nothing,  is more special to me than time spent with my family.


We were gone from home a total of ten days.  We flew out of Salt Lake City to return home late in the day on January 1, but we never made it home, which is only forty miles from the airport in Denver, until January 2.  Our flight was delayed due to storms in Denver.  The flight itself took one hour and one minute, but between the delayed flight itself and the weather that had hit in Denver, we decided to spend the night at the hotel at the airport when we finally made it back to Colorado at nearly midnight.  

All in all, despite being sick, and being on the go nearly non-stop, our weeks long Christmas celebrations were really special this year.  I am just now catching up with life again.  We are moving into 2014 with full speed ahead.

Wrapping Up Christmas - Part II

This was the year that I was going to keep Christmas simple.  I was not going spend as much money, and I was not going to do as much decorating.  At first,  I thought we would aim at a quiet Christmas at home.  Then, I changed my mind.  I decided I really did want to go to Utah for Christmas.  It had been nearly two years since I'd been over to see the grandkids.  I did not want to miss out on seeing them all again.  Jim hates to drive over to Utah in the winter.  Despite having written a recent blog post (click on highlight to read) about not driving in the snow, I had convinced him, and myself, that we should drive the twelve to fourteen hour trip during the 2013 Christmas holiday.  I suggested we leave a window open on the date for departure and leave when the weather promised to be best.  Somehow, against his better judgement, my husband agreed to this plan.

A few days after we had made the decision to make the trip, my daughter Amy called and said that there were great airfares on round-trip between Denver and Salt Lake City on Frontier if we were willing to fly on Christmas Day.  Then, she went on to tell me she did not want us driving.  She said driving was foolish, expensive, and dangerous this time of year.  She said we needed to fly.  Of course, she was right.  Jim immediately went on line and booked our flights and rented a car to use while we were there.  Deep down inside, I was relieved.  Flying would be so much easier than driving.

The change in trip plans meant I had to get all the gifts wrapped and ready to ship.  I did not want to carry them on the plane with me.  This also meant that we celebrated Christmas about four times.  First, we celebrated with the family in Colorado.  Then, Jim and I exchanged gifts on the night of the 23rd.  Then on Christmas Eve, we left early in the afternoon to drive to Amy's near Boulder, Colorado to spend Christmas Eve with her and her two children.  We exchanged our gifts with them that evening and then went out for a special dinner.  Jim and I then drove to DIA (Denver International Airport), which is only about twenty minutes from Amy's house, and spent the night at a hotel.  The next morning, Christmas Day, we flew to Salt Lake.  We were surprised how busy both airports were.  I guess more and more people travel on Christmas Day.  I do think the lower rates make it more attractive to do so.

Immediately upon landing in Salt Lake City, about 3:00 in the afternoon, we drove the twenty minute drive to the home of my soon to be daughter-in-law's parents' home.  I had never met Sheridan's large family, nor had I met her parents.  We literally crashed into the middle of their huge Christmas party.  Sheridan is one of six children, and nearly every child has a large family.  Being a part of this family gathering was an awesome experience.  They are a wonderful family.  I felt blessed knowing that my son in marrying into such a beautiful and gracious family.

The Happy Couple
Ryan and Sheridan
When Sheridan and Ryan tie the knot later this spring, they will be creating a blended family that will include Sheridan's two young boys and Ryan's three children.  These kids are already just like siblings. It warmed my heart to see the love and connection they all have with each other.  I captured this precious picture of Sheridan, note the beautiful engagement ring on her finger, giving a loving glance towards her son Max and Ryan's daughter Regan who are sharing a chair and a moment.  Ryan's son Parker is looking on as he sits in front of the fireplace at Sheridan's parents' home.


Here, Max is helping Ryan's son Bridger check out the cool hunting pack that Bridger got from one of the cousins on Sheridan's side during the family gift exchange.  Bridger, and Max, both loved the gift. 


Soon, it was time to move on to Sheridan's home for another Christmas party.  We planned to exchange our family gifts after daughter Keicha, her daughter Gillian, and her friend Mike drove down from Ogden.  After the gift exchange, we would all have Christmas dinner which was prepared by Ryan and Sheridan.  Sheridan's sister and her family would also join us.  (I know, I should provide a chart so you can all keep track of who is who!)

After we drove the mile or so to Sheridan's house and walked in the door, we literally almost tripped over Parker (my oldest grandson) who was right inside the door putting together the family Christmas present from Santa.  It was a green machine.  Soon, it was assembled and moved outdoors.  As you can imagine, it is designed to give the rider a wild ride full of excitement.


Upon entering the house, on the entry table, Sheridan had a tasteful display of family photos, books, plants, and artwork.  There among the special items was a bit of a heartbreaker.  A framed photo of Julie with her head in the mouth of a giant lion statute at the Salt Lake Zoo was placed next to a small urn of her ashes.  That photo was taken about twelve or thirteen years ago when the entire family made an excursion to the zoo. Julie was teasing the children who were toddlers then.  Back in those days, Julie was Sheridan's roommate, friend from work, fellow student at the U of U, and best friend.  While we all knew Sheridan well, Ryan had never met her until after Julie died. Now, Sheridan, will soon join our family when she marries Ryan.  

Not long after arriving at Sheridan's, I went to the window and snapped a photo of the Salt Lake valley below her beautiful home in Bountiful.   The sun was beginning to set on a wonderful Christmas Day.  We had successfully made our trip, and we were with family.  Nothing makes me happier than to be surrounded by my family.  I was a happy mama.  

It is always great when cousins can be together.  Here is Regan, Ryan's daughter, and my second oldest grandchild, with Gillian, Keicha's daughter, who is my fourth born grandchild.  They were both born the same year, but because Regan was born in January, and Gillian in October, they are one year apart in school.
Gillian & Regan
The kids are ready for another round of gift opening, but I think Grandpa Jim is tired and over the gift exchanges that have gone on for days.


I like to pick out gifts for the grandchildren for Christmas, but I worry that they won't really like my selections.  If they ask for gift cards, or money, that works too.  I was so excited about Bridger's gift.  I don't know why, but I hoped he would really like them.  I had so much fun picking out these red Van's.  I see a small smile on his face as he opens the gift.


Phewā€¦I think he really likes them!


Now, I worry about Parker's gift.  Will he like a Pendleton shirt?  Will he like red?  He seems to like it.


Yep, he likes it, and I think he looks very good in it.  Ok, I am a grandmother, and I brag about my grandkids, but, isn't he one handsome boy?


The girls unwrapped their matching pajamas and matching scarves along with other gifts from me.  Hannah also got matching p.j.s.  I wish she could have been here with her cousins for the Utah celebration.

This year, all of my children received the same sentimental gift from me.  While I was on Vashon Island in October, I found a gift shop called Giraffe Home.  Of course I was drawn to the shop because Julie's favorite animal was the giraffe.  It seemed that all of us would always look for a giraffe keepsake to bring home to Julie on every trip we went on.  At Giraffe Home, I found the perfect card.  On the front of the card was a drawing of a giraffe that caught my eye.  Inside, there was a beautifully written poem called Giraffe Blessing.

In so many ways, the poem epitomized Julie.  It seemed to be a message she would want us all to take to heart.  I bought a card for each of my children.  I also found the perfect Christmas tree ornament to go with the card:  A silver giraffe.  We all cried when the gift was opened.  I am sure Julie would have loved the gift.


Soon, the gifts were all opened and Ryan and Sheridan resumed the preparation for our scrumptious Christmas dinner.  The girls got into their new p.j.s.  (I notice that Parker made an appearance in the photo in what is called a "photobomb."   Note his flexed muscle on the left of the photo.  I didn't notice it until I published the photo.  Kids these days!  LOL)


Parker tried on his new backpack, a Christmas gift from his dad. This outdoorsman who loves to hike, ski, fish, and hunt is ready for more adventures.


I also caught a photo of Bridger warming up in front of the fire.  I think this spot,
and this one, are favorite spots in the house.  This is the same fireplace that gives off warmth on two sides.

Christmas Day 2013, was anything but simple.  It was complicated and took great planning.  It was also packed with so many gifts.  Jim and I enjoyed a relatively easy flight early in the day.  We then were blessed to be included in Sheridan's extended family celebration.  It was a rare and special treat to be with my two oldest children and their children on Christmas Day.  We then were treated to a truly fabulous Christmas dinner that was prepared by my son and Sheridan.  We enjoyed spending time with Sheridan's sister and her family who joined us for dinner.  This celebration was truly one for the books.  Jim ended the day by reading his Kindle in his own special spot near the Christmas tree.  Thank you Ryan and Sheridan for this special day.


Only one thing would have made the entire Christmas celebration better:  having son Jonathan and his family with us.  They did not come to either Colorado or Utah for the holidays this year.  We missed them greatly.  Maybe next yearā€¦

*  There is still more to come.  I will share our "vacation" part of the trip to Utah next.

Wrapping Up Christmas - Part 1

The holidays, from Thanksgiving to Christmas, are a bit of blur.  It seemed we were constantly on the run going to parties, and shopping.  At the same time we were battling the cold, the snow, and illness.
I got sick before Thanksgiving, and I'm still not completely over whatever it was that hit me.  Despite the fact that I had my yearly flu shot, I got some sort of virus that laid me low for weeks.  I ended up with an ear infection and sinus infection.   I tried not to let the bug that bit me slow me down much.  I also tried to not pass it on to others.  For this reason, and because we were so busy, I took a blogging break from Thanksgiving until after Christmas.  Now, I'd like to catch you all up on some really old news:  Christmas!

Mid-December, I was really on the party circuit.  We had so many fun gatherings with friends new and old, that I was glad that I took a break from blogging so that I could, despite being sick a lot of the time, enjoy the wonderful parties that we had the pleasure of attending.  Of course, one of the highlights of the season is always our high school girl friend party.  This year, we again laughed and ate and laughed and joked and shed a few tears as we shared updates about what we had been up to since we last met in September.  We may have met more than 50 years ago, but we are still girls at heart, and "girls just want to have fun."  I love these girls and am so blessed by our friendships.  Here is our 2013 Christmas picture.  Aren't they all lovely ladies?  They are all among my great treasures in life.


We held a family Christmas party at our home on the Sunday before Christmas so we could celebrate with our Colorado family.  The night before the party, my daughter Amy came down to spend the night and to help me prepare for our guests.  Since this particular night was December 21 and the Winter Solstice, we celebrated the occasion by going out for pizza.  After eating we made our way to the Broadmoor Hotel to see the Christmas lights.  I need to work on my photography skills, but at least you get some idea from the photo I took of how beautifully the grand hotel was all decked out for Christmas.  
One of the great draws for the Christmas visitors this year was this gingerbread house made by the bakers at the hotel.  It was amazing.  

And, it provided the perfect backdrop for a photo of the grandchildren.
Hannah and Mason
I was touched by the beautiful expression on my husband's face when he showed me this menorah that he found on display at the hotel.  I see both pride and sadness in this dear face as he no doubt  remembers and honors the fact that he is the son of Holocaust survivors.  


When we got home from our night out, Mason and Hannah got out one of the board games.  They played the game of Life.  I love how they like to play board games.  We always seems to have that tradition of playing some sort of card or board game when we are all together.  


The next day, we were all jumped into high gear as we got ready for our Christmas dinner for the family.  I remembered a few more things we needed from the store.  Mason, at fifteen and a half, was thrilled because this meant he could drive Grandpa Jim to the store.  Off they went with Mason driving his mom's car while Jim became co-pilot.  I must admit I got a tear in my eye when I saw my grandson drive for the first time.  Where did my cute little curly headed baby boy go?


Amy, took over in my kitchen.  I could not have done it all without her.  She set up all the tables and decided how we would serve the food.  I just realized we sure have a lot of red in this house!  Can you tell it is my favorite color?  



I wanted to bring out the china for dinner and use real silverware.  Amy and Jim had their way.  We used paper plates and plastic utensils.  In my childhood, and whenever I have entertained the family in the past, we used the china.  This year, I was overruled.  Everyone thanked Amy and Jim when it came time to clean up.  I guess I am just a traditionalist.  My father was always strict about a well set table with all the proper utensils and a salad bowl and or bread plate.  Those habits of setting the table properly for holiday dinners are just too ingrained in me.  I also remember all the fun the aunts all seemed to have as they gathered in the kitchen to wash all the dishes and pots and pans after a big family dinner.  Ok, maybe they didn't have fun, but it seemed to me they did.  At any rate, we threw our dishes and utensils away when we finished dinner, and Amy set up everything up quite nicely.  
Once her chores were done, as we waited for all the guests to arrive, Amy put her feet up for a bit while I pretended to be in charge of kitchen.  


Son-in-law Greg, married to Jim's second daughter carved the ham.  


Grandpa Jim helped greet his daughter and others as the house began to fill up with our children and grandchildren.

We had an eclectic meal, but traditional for us, of green chili made by Grandpa Jim, and tamales.  We did not know where to buy good tamales in Colorado Springs, so we got these from Costco.  They were very good.  

We also had ham, and a wonderful jello salad made by Jim's daughter, and my Spanish rice.  (This year I didn't explode the pan on the stove just before the guests arrived as I did a few years ago.)  I also made homemade rolls.  They weren't my best effort.  I'm a bit rusty, but everyone said they were still better than store bought.  

The new hit for our family dinners, is this kale and pomegranate salad.  Amy first made it for Thanksgiving.  Thia then brought it for Christmas.  We have all declared it one of our favorite salads of all time.  


We now have mostly teenagers for grandchildren.  I don't know how that happened so fast.  They gathered to fill their plates for dinner.

Thankfully, we were able to seat everyone.  We had three tables set up throughout the house.

The older kids...

The younger kids...

The adults...
Trinette, Jim's daughter looked so lovely in the sweater that matched her eyes that I had to take a close-up.  What a beauty she is, inside and out.  

After dinner, we all went downstairs to exchange gifts.  Here I am with daughter Amy and her children Mason and Hannah.  

Olivia, Avin, Rachel, Daphne, and Trista all gave me their best smiles.

It's smiles all around.  Caleb, Darby, Greg, and Daphne await the gift exchange.


Brad and Thia check out a gift.


Grandpa Jim loves Christmas.  He really does.  I think the kids all like the contents of the envelope he gave them too.  They all got something green and it fits in an envelope.


At the end of the day, Jim and I were pretty tired when everyone left.  He has a saying about when the kids and the grandkids visit.  "I love to see the headlights, but the tail lights are even better."  We say this because our energy is not like it used to be, but we also can hardly wait for the next visit.

Jim went directly to his chair and used his new Christmas gift from me:  an electric throw blanket.  This blanket is pure evil because if you dare to sit in a comfy chair and turn the blanket on during a cold evening, I guarantee you that you will not want to get up and do another thing!  He loves his new blanket.


There is more to come.  On Christmas Eve, we went north to Amy's house for a celebration.  Then, we flew out of Denver the next day and headed to Utah to see more of the children and grandchildren.  Stay tuned...

Giftsā€¦

Starting with Black Friday and going on until the day after Christmas, it seems the holiday season is all about gift giving.  We spend a lot of time and money searching for the perfect gift.  Some of us spent too much time and too much money on gifts.  Others, tried to give gifts of love, or of service, or perhaps, they took the time to make handmade gifts.  I believe the ability to give good gifts is a gift in of itself.  I've never thought I had that gift.  Now, the holiday season is over, and I'm still thinking of gifts. I find that the best gifts cannot be purchased with money, and that the gift that is given from the heart means the very most.

 Tomorrow is Epiphany which occurs twelve days after Christmas.  For some in the world, Epiphany is a more important day on the Christian calendar than Christmas Day itself.    And yet, we rarely celebrate or acknowledge this day in the western world.  I seldom think of the importance of this day.  In fact, if I have the Christmas tree down, the wreath off the door, and the Nativity safely boxed up and put away twelve days after Christmas, then I pat myself on the back for getting my life and house back to normal in good timing after the holidays.

Today, I was reminded twice of the significance of the Epiphany.  First, I read on Facebook a posting written by a friend in Spain saying she had just seen the parade of the Three Kings.  Then, at church, we read scriptures about the significance of this day when the three wise men visited and brought gifts to Jesus.  We so often see our Nativity sets complete with shepherds and wise men that we forget that it required a length of time after the birth of Christ for the magi to find the newborn Jesus, and it required a journey that changed the direction the wise men would take after they encountered Him.

When I first read my friend's account of seeing the parade of the Three Kings in Spain, my mind went back to the classroom.  Every year on the first day back after the Christmas/Winter Break, I would have my freshmen and sophomores read a story by Sandra Cisneros called Three Wise Guys.  I love this story.  It is the story of a family from Mexico that now lives on the Texas side of river.  They received a very large box from a benefactor for Christmas.  The mama will not let them open the box until January 6, Three Kings Day.  There is much anticipation and speculation about the contents of the box that occurs before the day finally arrives when the box can be opened.

I will not tell you how the story turns out because I don't want to spoil it for you.  I did provide a link for you.  If you click on the title of the story in the paragraph above, you will be able to read the entire short story yourself.  It won't take long to read, but I think you will enjoy it.  I loved teaching this story for many reasons:
  • First, it was a story my classroom which was predominately filled with Hispanic students could connect with culturally and spiritually.
  • It is a story that is a delight to read because Sandra Cisneros' voice is clearly heard.  I love to read anything she writes.
  • It is a story about gifts.  Do we always appreciate them?  Do we understand the significance of the gift when it is given?
  • It is story about transcendence. 
In doing a bit of reading about the Epiphany, I found a poem written by T.S. Eliot entitled, Journey of the Magi.  I have provided a link to the poem where you can read it or listen to it being read by T.S. Eliot.

I love how Eliot speaks of the journey made by the magi in this poem, and how it was not a pleasant one, that they took.  I also love how he makes us ponder, along with him, the significance of the the encounter with what they found at the end of journey.  He speaks of no longer being content with the old dispensation.

And so, I begin the new year pondering the significance of the gifts with which I have been blessed.  Certainly, I have been given many.  I have a wonderful husband who showers me with material gifts and keeps me steady with his gift of emotional stability when I need it most.  I have a beautiful family.  One that has been fractured by grief.  One that needs time and grace to make the journey that we've been called to take into a land we never knew existed.  Mostly, as I begin this new year, I am grateful that I do not take this journey alone.  I have so many friends that give me encouragement along the way.  And, I have my faith.  That is the one great gift that I have been given.  

I have great plans for the new year.  I hope to see many of them accomplished.  I look forward to a new year filled with much joy and continued healing.  To my blogging friends, I say, Thank you for being on this journey with me.  You bring great joy to my life.  You have enriched my life more than I ever thought possible.  You are counted among the great gifts of my life.  

Since it is the first week of the new year, I do hope you won't find the greeting this video a bit too late.  I am sending it as my gift to you for Three Kings Day.  I do hope you enjoy watching it.  Happy New Year and Happy Three Kings Day!




If you have trouble opening the video from YouTube, go to:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VhiF-PD4E_c#t=10  I hope this link works.

P.S.  I hope you will indulge me in allowing me to post some very old news in the next few days or weeks.  I will recount our Christmas holiday which included a journey to Utah.  Stay tuned...

Winter Soltice

Jack Frost decorated as only he can in preparation for this, the shortest day of the year.

The Shortest Day

ā€œAnd so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.ā€
~Susan Cooper

We are in the midst of Christmas preparations.  
I just lit the Christmas tree,
 some candles, 
and I sit in anticipation of the arrival 
of my daughter and her children.
We plan to "drive the dark away" 
by eating pizza,
visiting the Broadmoor to ohh and ahh 
over the fancy decorations
and beautiful lights.
We'll drink a bit of hot chocolate, I'm sure.
Maybe, when we get home,
we'll make a few cookies.  

Tonight, 
 we will give thanks,
and hope for peace
as we celebrate this, the shortest day of the year.  



I hope all is well with you and yours as Christmas fast approaches.




Winter Arrives and It Is Good to Stay Home

Winter arrived today.  Well, technically, the calendar states that it is still autumn.  What I really need to say is that it snowed today, and it has been very cold.  It feels like winter.  On days like today, retirement is appreciated more than ever.  I spent the day working at my desk.  As I gazed out the window all I could see was white.  The earth and the sky seemed to have blended into one color.  The sameness of the scene outside my window was disrupted as I noticed a huge buck walk past.  He was covered with snow and seemed to just be out taking a walk through the neighborhood without his entourage of doe.  I guess he wanted a bit of peace and quiet.  

I admit I get a bit jaded and cynical when it snows.  The news stations only seem to report one story after the other about what to do if you are out in the snow.  There are stories about how to drive in snow, stories about making sure your pipes don't freeze, and stories about keeping the sidewalks cleared.  I want to say, "Come on people, we live in Colorado. We are in the mountains.  Learn to drive in it or move."  

I recently wrote on facebook that I was grateful that my father taught me how to drive in the snow.  We lived in Leadville, Colorado when I learned to drive.  Leadville has an elevation of 10,152 feet.  According to wikipedia, Leadville has an average of 142.7 inches of snow in a year.  I've seen it snow on the 4th of July in Leadville.  So, living in the mountains of Colorado meant that it was essential to learn to drive in the snow.  

When I was in college, my father was once driving me home on roads that were snow packed and icy.  With no other cars in sight, he stopped the car on a patch of black ice.  He then told me to get out of the car, walk to the driver's side, bend down and touch the ice, and then take over as driver.  He wanted me to see just how slick the black ice was.  He wanted me to remember that I should expect black ice when I was driving in winter conditions.  He also taught me how to navigate mountain passes in snow by using my gear shift to slow the vehicle down.  He insisted that I learn to drive down a mountain pass without using my brakes.  His words of advice about never relying on my brakes when driving in the mountains still ring in my head when I drive mountain passes.  I think his advice has saved my life a few times when I have driven over what seemed to be totally impassable snow covered roads.  

A few years ago, my husband and I were caught in a terrible snowstorm on Monarch Pass.  When we started up the pass, we knew a storm was on the way, but I hoped we could get over the mountain before the thrust of the storm hit the hardest.  I insisted on driving since my husband does not drive in the snow.  Unfortunately, we were caught in the worst of it.  As we ascended the pass, the thick driving snow made it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of us.  The storm hit fast and hard.  Soon, I was forging my own path through the snow.  Beneath the thick blanket of snow, the road was covered with ice which made the travel even more treacherous.  Trucks and cars were sliding backwards as they tried to climb the mountain.  I shifted the automatic transmission into low gear and keep on going.  I loved my trusty Subaru that day.  

This photo was not taken by me, but it was taken on Monarch Pass.  This give you an idea of the conditions I am describing with this post.  
My husband sat beside me wringing his hands.  Occasionally, he would make a sound that would startle me.  With my heart racing from all the adrenaline I had running through my system, I turned to him and said, "Stop making me nervous.  Don't say a thing.  Don't make sound.  Just shut-up and let me drive."  I wasn't very nice, but I needed all my concentration on the road with no interruptions from my passenger.  

Finally, we got to the top of the pass.  The snow was at least two feet deep in places, and the wind was blowing.  It was hard to find the road.  I pulled off to where I knew a parking lot should be and stopped the car and rolled down the window.   My husband asked what I was doing.  I said, "I am cooling down and calling up my courage so I can drive us down the other side of the mountain."  In someways, I felt more confident going down the mountain than I had been while going up the mountain.  Going up, the sheer cliffs on the side of the road seemed very scary when I saw the cars around me sliding backwards.  Going down, I felt I would have more control over my traction and speed by using my gear system.  Whispering a little thank you to my Daddy, who had passed away a few years earlier, and who had taught me how to drive in snow and in the mountains, I pulled out onto the highway and headed down the mountain.  

We made it home safe and sound.  I made a promise that day to myself.  I promised myself that I would never again knowingly put myself in the position of driving over a mountain pass in the snow.  I had done so for over forty years as I traveled back and forth over the Continental Divide to be with either my parents or my children during the holidays.  I made up my mind that I was getting to old to do this kind of driving anymore.  

Unfortunately, I haven't kept that promise.  There was a trip to Utah in a snowstorm across Wyoming a few years back that made me wonder if I had lost my mind for heading out when a storm was on the way.  We made to our destination that time also.  I wondered if we would at one point as we slid sideways across an icy bridge in Rock Springs, Wyoming.  As I began the drive across the bridge, I realized too late I was driving too fast.  It was covered with black ice.  (I forgot my father's teaching for a moment.)  Other cars were sliding all around me.  The bridge began to look like a bumper car area.  
There was nothing I could do but slide along in the car and hope we didn't get hit, didn't hit the side of the bridge, and that I didn't somehow roll the car on its top or side.  Cars on either side of me seemed to just move out of my way as I slid out of control.  To this day, I have no idea how the car came to a stop, but it did stop just before it would have hit the bridge.  I was able to again head the vehicle in the right direction, and drive off the bridge in one piece.  Perhaps it was an answer to the prayer I screamed out asking that angels surround us and protect us.  I'm pretty sure it was an answer to one of those "foxhole" prayers that I shot up.

So, today, it has been good to sit in my nice warm house and not venture out when the snow flies.  As I said, I am grateful for retirement.  While I know how to drive in wintery conditions, it would take an emergency for me actually take to the roads and travel out of town when the weather gets snowy and icy.  I had to laugh when I saw this quote by  Kelly Armstrong regarding winter:  

ā€œIt reminded me of what Dad said after every snailā€™s crawl home from
Albany when snow hit.ā€œItā€™s New York, people. Itā€™s winter. We get snow. If you arenā€™t prepared
to deal with it, move to Miami.ā€ ~ Kelley ArmstrongDangerous

I'm not moving to Miami.  I'm not even moving to Phoenix even though at times I would like to.  Instead, I will stay where I am: inside.  It is nice to be an armchair expert on being prepared for winter at this stage in my life.  Tomorrow, if it remains snowy and icy, I plan on doing much of what I did today:  read, write, cook a tasty beef stew, bake cookies, and give thanks for a husband who braves the snow and takes the dog out for a walk.  

Fifty Years Ago Today ~ The Assassination of President John F. Kennedy

Where were you at the at 1:00 p.m., Central Standard Time, on November 22, 1963?  

At about 11:20, Mountain Standard Time, I left my freshman level United States History class at what was then known as Colorado State College (now University of Northern Colorado) to head back to my dormitory room in Wilson Hall.  I was scheduled to work lunch duty in the dining hall and was happy to get out of class a few minutes early because we had been shown a film that day that ended before class was normally over.  It was a Friday, and I was looking forward to going on a date that night.  I was also happy that it was nearly time to go home for Thanksgiving Vacation which would occur the following week.

As I said, at just before noon, I had been attending my freshman history class, a class I greatly enjoyed that was taught by one of those professors able to make history come alive.  I still have a copy of the book we were using:  The United States to 1865.  I kept it thinking it would be a good resource in my teaching career.  Now, after all these years, I think I also kept it as a tangible piece of my own personal history.  I carried this book with me as I crossed campus that day fifty years ago today.

With the quarter drawing to an end, our professor had nearly finished teaching us the course.  Just days before, it had been noted that it had been 100 years before that Lincoln had given the Gettysburg Address.  On this day, November 22, 1963, at around 11:00 a.m. MST, my classmates and I watched a film about the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.  Our professor talked briefly about the assassination and the film before he showed the film.  He talked briefly about the hopes that Lincoln had for his second term in office.

 I quote from this textbook some of the words that our professor spoke about as he introduced the film:
In the spring of 1865, when the lilacs opened early and the dogwood spread its pure white blossoms in profusion  Lincoln was hoping that the nation's second birth would be free of complication.*  Our professor did not want us to miss the hope that Lincoln had for the the future of our country when he was tragically killed on April 15, 1865.  

I will never forget that just before the film started, our professor placed a trash can next to the classroom door that led to hallway outside.  He said, "This is for your kleenexes.  The film is very realistic and will cause some of you to become emotional."  He was right.  At the end of the film, I was crying.  I continued to walk across campus with tears in my eyes thinking of that great president who had been shot nearly one hundred years before.  

As I crossed campus, other pathways began to fill with students emptying out of other classes.  I tried to get my emotions under control.  Just as I came to the crosswalk near Gunter Hall and Bru Inn, I saw students coming onto campus from the dorms.  I noticed that those coming on campus were crying.  Finally, I stopped someone and asked what was going on.  I was told that they had just heard that the President had been shot.  "No," I said.  "You probably heard someone talking about the film we saw about the assassination of President Lincoln."  I was told that the news was spotty and the sources not specific, but that it did indeed appear that President Kennedy had been shot.

I continued on in my state of denial.  "This just could not be true.  Presidents don't get assassinated in our country."  I continued walking the short distance to my dorm room and climbed the three flights of stairs to my room.  After I changed into my uniform that I wore to serve in the dining hall, I stood at the window and stared to the ground below as I listened to the news on the radio.  There seemed to be such confusion over what had really happened.  I was all alone in my room.  I heard Walter Cronkite announce that President John F. Kennedy was dead.  I was overcome with grief and disbelief.  Soon, I had to leave to go to work in the dining hall.  I still remember that we were served tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch that day.  It was a Friday.  We were not served meat for any meal on Friday.

I remember I went out on my date that night.  I don't remember who the date was with.  I don't remember who else was with us.  I only remember we went to get pizza, but none of us were hungry.  We were too upset to eat.

I remember I just wanted to go home.  My youthful idealism had been shattered.  I remember that for days, before we all could go home for Thanksgiving Break, all of us sat in the student lounge, the only place where a television set could be found,  and watched the days that followed Kennedy's death unfold on the television screen before us.  Those images will stay with me forever.

Reflections:

In 2007, my husband and I spent the day at the John F. Kennedy Library in Boston, Massachusetts. We were enthralled with the exhibits and totally overcome with emotions as we end our visit that day after we watched the newscasts that had gone around the nation on the day Kennedy was shot.  We felt as if we had gone back in time as we viewed artifacts from the 1950's and 1960's.  We felt the years fall away as we remembered those time.  Viewing all of the newscasts made it all too fresh for us again.  We both wept.

I was a young 18 year old college freshman when Kennedy died.  Away from home for the first time in my life, my letters from that time reflect a young girl who was trying to make the transition from high school to college, and trying to move from carefree teenage days into a more adult time of life.  In reality, I was woefully unprepared for college and for adulthood.  I was extremely idealistic.

JFK represented a new time in American History for those of us who were born just as World War II was ending.  I had been raised in a family of longtime Democrats.  My paternal grandparents were as dyed in the wool Democratic Party as you could get for the time.  They were active in local politics and served on many committees.  My grandmother was president of the Jane Jefferson Club in my hometown.  Grandpa was an Adlai Stevenson man.  When Kennedy was chosen to represent the Party in his bid for the Presidency, I have not doubt that they supported him because he was loyal to the party.

To me, Kennedy was a bit of "fresh air."  He was not like the politicians that my grandfather talked about.  Kennedy had the "cool" factor.  He was young, handsome, smart, had a great accent, and of course, I adored Jackie Kennedy.  I listened to his speeches when I could, and I felt the hope for the future that he seemed to bring to our country.  I had hope that he would bring great progress to the Civil Rights Movement.

Our country was so different then.  We had a sort of innocence about us not found in today's society.  I have always believed we lost our innocence as a Nation that day when JFK was assassinated.

Now, we know so many things about Kennedy that are not flattering.  In 1963, I believed in Camelot.      I did not see the Kennedy family as royalty, nor did I believe that they should be treated as such, but I did believe that Kennedy spoke of vision, youth, and optimism. At that time, I did not know that a young girl, just about my own age, Mimi Alford, had been his secret mistress.  I did not know that he treated this young girl just months older than I, so despicably and exploited her youth and her innocence. Trying to reconcile the Kennedy that was a womanizer with the Kennedy that the public saw is no easy task.

In the end, I choose to remember the vision that he seemed to transmit to those of us that were young when he lived and died.  I am grateful I was born and came of age in those times that spanned the end of World War II until the day, November 22, 1963, when Kennedy was shot.  I take a line from Kennedy's Inaugural given on January 20, 1961 and say, "Yes, Mr. President, you were right.  I would not exchange places with any other people of any other generation.  Thank you for inspiring us with these words so many years ago.  I believe these words still burn deep in the hearts of many from my generation.

I do not believe that any of us would exchange places with any other people or any other generation. The energy, the faith, the devotion which we bring to this endeavour will light our country and all who serve it. And the glow from that fire can truly light the world.
And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.  ~ John F. Kennedy, January 20, 1964.

*References:
Kraus, Michael. (1959). The United States to 1865. United States of America: University of Michigan Press.  

The Autumn of My Life

Is it because I am in the autumn of my life that I hang on to this season so fiercely? 
I seem to want to embrace the season so deeply that it cannot easily slip away before I have fully experienced every bit of its beauty.
Perhaps, the lyrics to September Song are subconsciously planted within my brain and I am reminded over and over again that my days are dwindling "down to a precious few."
This song, September Song, could be the love story that parallels my life with my husband.

I've known my husband since those youthful days of May over 50 years ago, but like the foolish girl in the song, I tossed my curls and refused my young man's offer to spend a lifetime together.
We spent those years of planting, building, and producing married to others. 
We didn't even live in the same states during those years.
One day, 30 years after I had last seen this great love from my youth, 
we were reconnected and soon
"as time came around
she came my way."

Now, at this time in my life, I am grateful that during these autumn days my husband and I have each other for these our golden years.

Here is a recap of how we spent this fall season.

While the fields were still filled with pumpkins ready to picked to create Halloween jack o'lanterns,
or pumpkin pies,

we made sure we gathered in some of our favorite harvest foods:
honey crisp apples from Canon City, Colorado,


and Pueblo peppers, fire roasted and ready to be frozen so we could add them to our favorite dishes.  (Click on the link to learn more about these wonderful peppers and to see some recipes that call for the peppers.)

One other fall day, both of us feeling well and fit, and also very grateful that the days of back pain for Jim and the erratic beating heart days for Sally, were behind us, with Boston by our side, we walked the mile and a half uphill from our house to the beautiful sanctuary that is Mount Saint Francis.
Mt. Saint Francis sits an altitude of 6875 ft.  
We climb nearly 300 ft. as we walk the mile from our home to this beautiful site.
I had to sit on the rock wall and rest a bit when we reached our destination.

The day was glorious.
The sky so very blue, with only a few wisps of clouds to give it interest, provided the backdrop for
the vignettes of beauty I saw everywhere I looked.
The uniqueness of the rock formations just above the buildings below begged to be photographed with a border of gold provided by the trees.

This autumn, we celebrated the one year anniversary of moving into our new home. On that same day, we celebrated Jim's 70th birthday.  
Boston joined Jim for his birthday portrait.

The days of this autumn have been filled with many walks "under the sun."
I have loathed thinking of the days these colors would be gone.


Instead of picking up leaves from the ground and pressing them in a book as I might have done as a young girl, I have photographed them as they cling to the trees.

These leaves, complex in color, shape, and texture,  also seem to loath the day that they will fall to the ground to become pulverized to dust under the feet of those who walk under the bare trees.  
Their beauty of each leaf screams out to me for recognition. 
"See us.  Really see us before we are gone."

On another day, and on another path,
the trees appear nearly naked.
My beloved, and his dog, walk ahead of me on the path.
We are walking in the neighborhood where I lived when he and I were dating twenty plus years ago.


These trees, these old cottonwood trees,

have been here longer than I have been alive.
They were here when my grandparents walked these streets.
They shaded this street when my mother and father were first married just blocks from here.
These bare branches and limbs, soaring toward the blue, blue Colorado sky,
have shed the last leaves of this season.
They are entering winter.
They remind me that we too will soon be entering winter.

As I gaze at these tree limbs, I think how they represent the deep connections to my roots I feel in this community, my hometown, the place where my family has lived for five generations.
I think of my parents and grandparents.
I think of the seasons of their lives.
Except for my mother, all from the generations before me are now gone.
I am very aware of the season of life where I now reside.

The lyrics of the September Song come back to me.
I am keenly aware of why I wish to hang on to these autumn days.
Oh the days dwindle down to a precious few,
September, November.
And these few precious days I'll spend with you.
And the wine dwindles down to a precious brew
September, November


And these few vintage years I'll spend with you.
These precious years, I'll spend with you.*

I am truly blessed to spend these precious days with you, my beloved husband.

Enjoy Tony Bennett singing "September Song" by clicking on the video below.


*Words from "September Song were written by Kurt Weill and Maxwell Anderson.


To Blog or Not To Blog?

In December of 2008, I posted the following blog post.  I was new to blogging.  I had not one follower.  I wasn't sure if I should continue to blog or not.  Thankfully, I did continue to blog, but I find it interesting to read what I was thinking at that time.  Perhaps, you will too.

Reflection on Blogging from December, 2008

Of course that is the question...I started this blog, and sometimes I wonder why I continue to keep it. Do I write for an audience? That is a question that just appeared on Jim Burke's ning. It is a question that I am asking myself as I write this blog post. It is a question that does not have just one answer.

I have always enjoyed writing and have kept various types of journals over the years. I kept sporatic journals when my children were small as an attempt to just try and keep some sort of record of what life was like during that period of my life. I didn't really have an audience in mind when I kept those journals, but they were often more than just some sort of daily log of experiences. I wish I had been more disciplined in my journal attempts during those days because now I do have an audience for what I wrote during those busy, hectic times: myself and possibly my children.

Many young moms are blogging these days. They create fabulous blogs full of wonderful pictures of their children. They are pretty blogs filled with flowers and flowing designs. They represent the technological gifts that this generation of moms have developed. I envy these young moms and their blogs because they will have a precious record of their lives with their children. What a gift and a blessing. What I wouldn't give to have the same type of archive of my childrens' activities when they were young. I think these moms must have a permanent camera in their hands to capture all those adorable photos. They also must be incredibly organized to be able to produce these wonderful blogs, cook the meals, do the laundry and clean the house.

When one writes, the audience does not always present itself immediately. We wrtie because we have a need to record our lives. We write to express our dreams, our needs, our disappointments, our heartbreak, our insights, or even as a means of trying to make sense out of what is going on around us. Writing is intensely personal, and for that reason, we are sometimes hesitant to put down our most intimate thoughts and emotions on paper because we fear an unknown or known audience. Audience can intimidate us and cause us not to write or not to write well.

As a teacher, I now see I might have confused my students when I taught about audience and writing. I would tell my students that they did not need to consider audience when they wrote in their journals. In fact, I encouraged them not to think about the reader while writing. I told them that they were just to write. They did not have to worry about punctuation or spelling or any other grammatical rules as they wrote in their journals. I just wanted them to feel free to write without being intimidated by feeling that they must write perfectly if they were to write at all. I told them to focus on developing voice.

Many of my students would write stunning journal entries. They would amaze me with the uniqueness of their individual voices. I would get glimpses into their true selves through their journal writing. Sometimes, I would be heartbroken by what they had to share. Sometimes I would be alarmed. Always, I was grateful that they trusted me enough to write transparently and honestly when they knew I would read what they wrote. I was their audience, and they trusted me enough to write honestly.

Othertimes, when the students had a writing assignment, I would teach about audience. I would remind them that they should consider their audience when they wrote. Unfortunately, many times, these formal writings lacked an ability to touch any type of audience. They became stilted, boring, and seemed to only represent some sort of stylized writing that came about from trying to follow the form style writing that they had been taught in previous years of schooling. This writing would lack life. It might be perfectly representative of a five paragrah essay, but it lacked true meaning. The concept of writing for an audience was difficult for many students to grasp.

When my father became very ill and was hospitalized just days before he died, my students took a quarterly essay test that I had to grade before I could leave to drive over to Grand Junction to be with him. They had to respond to Li-Young Lee's poem, "The Grandfather." They knew they were writing for me - their teacher. They wrote mostly to get a grade. They clearly understood their audience. Interestingly, after all the responses were read, the grades were assigned, and I had left my role as teacher to drive to my father's bedside to become a daughter who only had a few more days to spend with her father, I found that my focus as an audience who had read assigned poetry responses shifted. I found myself recalling the poem, and even more importantly, I recalled the responses my students had shared with me about the poem in their tests. Their words began to comfort me. They gave me strength.  They allowed me to peacefully surrender myself to the moment I found myself in. I realized the power of the written word in a unique way. The freshness of my students' youthful responses that spoke of the value of caring for the elderly grandfather while treasuring his final stories spoke to me. We don't always know what response our audience will have to our writing.

Now, I find that I question the appropriateness and usefullness of my own attempts to write by using a blog. One of the most freeing lessons I embraced during this summer's writing project, was the concept that "there are not final drafts; there are only due dates." I can hear Katherine Frank's voice in my head whenever I repeat this saying to myself. I also embrace Anne Lamott's quote about some writing being a "shitty rough draft." The problem with a blog is that those types of drafts are immediately published! Horrors! What was I thinking???

Blogging is certainly the new "in thing" to do. I have so enjoyed our family blog. It has kept me smiling when I read the funny responses my children post. It has been a place where we can share our pictures and update our lives with each other. In today's world, so many of us have children spread all over the place, so it is nice to have a place where we can connect. The blog has been that place for us. It almost reminds me of the old round robin letters that my grandmother's family would circulate.

Blogs that are successful, seems to require audience. One would not continue to blog very long if one did not have some sort of audience. The beauty of the blog is the ability to have a place where one can post something that can generate an immedite response.

As of today, the jury is still out. I am not sure of the benefit of this blog except for serving as a place where I can create a bit of a history of what is going on in my life at the moment. I am newly retired. I struggle with my new status at times. I miss the academic life, and yet I am also happy to leave the daily demands of it behind. I miss my students. I miss the interaction. I miss my audience. That is one thing a teacher always has - an audience. As I used to say, "Just give me a stage!" But, I also like to think that my classroom was a place where we were all learning together. I like to think that I created a more generative, constructivist type of classroom. It wasn't just like the classrooms where I went to school most of the time. It was interactive and interesting. Certainly, if a blog is going to be successful, it must be all of those things too. At the moment, I think my blog mostly serves as a place where I can contemplate and explore where I want to go with my life as as a retired teacher. I don't necessarily need an audience to do that. I only need a place where I can record my thoughts and activities so I don't get lost. So, for now the blog continues.

A Short Reflection on Blogging from 2013:

And, now in November of 2013, I wonder what my life would be like if I had not taken up blogging.  I am grateful for the richness that blogging has brought to my life.   What are your thoughts about blogging?  Why do you blog?  Has blogging opened new doors in your life you did not even realize were there?