by jphilo | Mar 7, 2016 | Family
Nineteen years ago this day, my family was at a funeral home.More mourners than we expected came to say good-bye to my father, Harlan Stratton. The mourners spent long minutes studying the photographs that chronicled his life.
“That’s the way I remember him,” each one said, pointing at the photograph that encapsulated the years when they had shared life together.
Some chose his high school graduation picture.
Others lingered by the snapshot of him standing by his prize steer, Snowball.
The flower girls from my parents’ wedding pointed to a picture of a grinning groom.
Former 4-Hers smiled at the studio portrait taken when he became a county extension agent.
To be honest, I was jealous of those people who remembered my dad in his prime, when he could still walk into rooms. When his voice boomed above the crowd and took control. When he laughed and traded jokes long into the night. When he drove and Mom sat in the passenger seat. I was jealous because they knew my father in ways I never did and never will.
But now, 19 years after we celebrated Dad’s life my photo pick is one that didn’t get much attention on March 7, 1997. My favorite is his college graduation picture. The one where his flat top is a bit unruly, his eyes a little squinty, his smile crooked, and his chin on the jowly side.
That less-than-perfect face is my favorite because looking at his hair, his eyes, his smile, and his chin, I see where I came from. The envy I once felt toward those who knew the man I didn’t has disappeared. How can I be jealous of people who knew Dad in ways I never will when the imprint of him is on my heart and face?
Oh, Dad, I miss you.
In memory of Harlan John Stratton: May 11, 1929 – March 4, 1997. Dearly loved husband, father, father-in-law, grandfather, uncle, cousin, and friend.
by jphilo | Oct 27, 2015 | Top Ten Tuesday
We’ve had a baby in the house since Thursday when the Man of Steel and I swallowed our pride and asked our kids for help. The presence of a baby changes a person’s priorities faster than almost anything else, making adults ignore things they once held dear. Here’s what’s being left by the wayside at our house this week.
10. The dog. Not ours. Our daughter and son-in-law’s. Poor thing’s had its nose out of joint since early April when Baby arrived and became the center of attention.
9. Feng shui. Not that I believe in it, but if I did, the baby paraphernalia scattered throughout the house would destroy any semblance of personal harmony with the environment.
8. Housework. Thank you, dear Baby, for liberating Grammy Jo from this one. At least for a week or two.
7. Normal routine. Because the only predictable thing in a baby’s routine is lack of predictability, which has a domino effect on everyone and everything.
6. Regular mealtimes and table manners. After all, Baby’s gonna eat when Baby’s gonna eat. And who cares about elbows on the table when an adorable six-month-old has squash puree dribbling down his sweet, little chin?
5. Elaborate grooming rituals. Forget about neatly coiffed hair, a manicure, or a pedi. Instead, consider a day with time to shower, brush teeth, and slap on deodorant to be a magnificent gift.
4. Latest fashion trends. With a baby on deck fashion trends are reduced to trading pajama pants for yoga pants every morning.
3. Adult conversation. Who has time to talk politics and new movies between feedings, diaper changes, and playing Peek-a-Boo? All of which are far more fascinating than politics and movies anyway.
2. Any task requiring more than 5 minutes and 1 hand. No further explanation necessary.
1. Modesty. Between a chubby baby butt and a nursing mother, everyone lets their guard down a bit. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.
What gets ignored when there’s a baby at your house? Leave a comment.
by jphilo | Aug 21, 2015 | Uncategorized
This Fantastic Friday remembers my Uncle Marvin who died four years ago this week. The legacy of hope he left his family and the hope his descendants carry into the future remain a source of hope today.
Sadness kept me company on this morning’s walk. No matter how hard I tried to steer my thoughts to smoother ground, they continually strayed to the uneven place where we stood and buried Uncle Marvin yesterday.
All I could think about were his grandchildren, the honorary pallbearers, gathered from Minnesota and Iowa, North Dakota and Illinois, and one recently returned from Egypt. They stood tall and straight and lovely, in the tiny country cemetery where their grandfather joined his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, only a few miles from where he’d been born and lived all his years.
These sweet carriers of our family’s future stood guard over the coffin, grave and composed during the pastor’s committal service, through the military gun salute, the folding of the flag, and it’s presentation to their grandmother. But when haunting notes of Taps filled the air, they began to cry, realizing for perhaps the first time in their young lives, that there is an end to every good thing.
Will this be the end of their connection to the family farm? I wondered, as they placed flowers on their grandpa’s coffin and said good-by. Will they return to their homes far away and forget their family’s long history in this place, the connection to the land that binds their parents together?
Sadness weighed heavy on me, and my head drooped lower. It’s over, I thought, and tears came to my eyes. For a moment, the sky wept, too, and raindrops wet my shoulders and hair. Maybe I should just give up and go home, I thought, too sad to fight life’s changes or the weather anymore. I looked up to check the sky.
And there against the grey clouds in the east was the beginning of a rainbow. A small, faded streak at first, it grew brighter and brighter the longer I looked up. Slowly, my sad weight lifted, and when I turned the corner I walked beside the rainbow. The further I went, the brighter the rainbow grew, until finally it stretched across the sky, bold against the grey clouds.
When those sweet grandchildren and their far-flung adventures came to mind again, the rainbow whispered to me.
Hope, it said so softly I had to strain to hear the word.
Hope.
by jphilo | Aug 14, 2015 | Daily Life
This Fantastic Friday post looks back at the day my first book, A Different Dream for My Child, landed on our doorstep. Seeing the boxes resulted in a happy Monday jig on a beautiful August morning in 2009. Reading about that day makes me feel like dancing all over again, and I hope it makes you smile, too.
The weather was glorious this morning, and so was my mood. During my walk along the gravel road, I ticked off the blessed unclutteredness of this new week:
- Daughter and a truckload of her belongings and some of Grandma’s old furniture safely deposited at college.
- Daughter’s boyfriend and some of Grandma’s old furniture safely deposited at his apartment.
- Son and some of Grandma’s old furniture safely deposited in his apartment.
- Some of Grandma’s old furniture safely deposited at cousin’s house.
- The rest of Grandma’s old furniture put to good use in our house.
- The walls of the guest room are now visible with extra furniture gone.
- The garage stall, full of this and that since Mom’s house sold in March, finally empty again.
- Anne’s bedroom, minus the truckload of stuff she took to college, is now available for house guests.
- Mystery novel compete, edited, and on its way to the publishing house considering it.
- Different Dream website ready to be launched.
- I have uninterrupted work time now that daughter is safely deposited at college, along with a pickup load of her belongings.
- Mother safely tucked away at brother’s house, her finances organized and under control, the last of her keepsakes being distributed to appreciative owners.
Finally, after months of boxes and extra furniture, after weeks of overwhelming projects, I was ready to move on. Feeling light as a feather, I did a little woo-hoo whoop and jigged up the driveway, arranging and rearranging my week’s vast, uncluttered expanses of time and space. When I came around the garage, my happy dance ended. Stacked in front of the kitchen door were three boxes. The books I’d ordered from the publisher had arrived, much sooner than expected. As my vast, uncluttered expanses of space and time evaporated, and I hauled the cartons into the kitchen, I checked off one last blessing:
- We got the shelving unit from Mom’s basement painted and moved into our bedroom on Saturday. Just in the nick of time, I have a place to stack the books.
My feet and heart are dancing again.
by jphilo | Dec 30, 2014 | Top Ten Tuesday
2014 is almost over, so now’s the time to reflect on the year just past. Here are the top 10 events along the gravel road over the past 12 months.
10. The Man of Steel and I bought a new car with electric seat warmers. A little bit of heaven on earth.
9. In the process of residing the garage, the Man of Steel uncovered some local history that resonated with readers and makes us feel very connected to past owners of our old farmhouse and outbuildings.
8. Jolene completed 3 book manuscripts, sent them to the publishers early, and completed about 3/4 of the mystery novel she’s dreamed of writing for years.
7. To celebrate the 2nd anniversary of his back surgery, he Man of Steel ran in Dam to Dam, a half-marathon held in Des Moines each June.
6. As part of the November release of her book The Caregiver’s Notebook, Jolene met some amazing caregiving bloggers who are spreading news of the book far and wide. They are amazing, loving, and giving people!
5. Though she’s still not sure where the years went, Jolene had a wonderful time reconnecting with high school classmates at their 40th class reunion.
4. Along the same vein, the response to a tribute to her high school drama coach confirmed the magical nature of Jolene’s high school years.
3. The Man of Steel and Jolene enjoyed dancing at a family wedding. What greater earthly joy does God grant than to celebrate with relatives of all ages?
2. Jolene loved creating a book called My Papoo Makes Guitars for her grandson’s birthday. The Man of Steel loved crafting a ukulele for the same grandson’s Christmas. Even more, they loved watching him open those gifts.
1. The best news of 2014 was learning that 2 new grandchildren are on the way in 2015. The first will arrive sometime in January and the second in April. Papoo and Grammy Jo are ready and waiting to fulfill their grandparenting duties!
In memory of Harlan John Stratton: May 11, 1929 – March 4, 1997. Dearly loved husband, father, father-in-law, grandfather, uncle, cousin, and friend. 
