by jphilo | Jun 17, 2014 | Family, Top Ten Tuesday
This past Saturday, many of the descendents of my mother’s parents, Vernon and Josie Hess (pictured above) gathered for the annual Hess Cousins Reunion. These are ten of the top highlights of the day.
10. The potluck dessert to salad ratio was about 5 to 1, which shows the Hess cousins have their priorities right.
9. Within the dessert portion of that ratio, rhubarb figured prominently. Grandma Josie lives!
8. The cousins who hosted this year’s reunion shared a recently unearthed treasure trove of pictures and home movies from the 1940s and 50s.
7. The grainy movie footage was hard to see, but totally worth watching for the 5 second shot of Grandpa Hess snoring in the back seat of the car…footage my mother claims she shot.
6. One of the new photos was of my father looking directly into the camera with an expression identical to one my son wears often.
5. Other photos from the treasure trove show my parents in the late 1950s, their faces full of belief in a bright future, shortly before Dad’s diagnosis of multiple sclerosis.
4. Still other pictures show how beautiful the Hess cousins were as babies…something we were never told as our parents didn’t want any of us to get the big head, don’t you know?
3. Conversations with rellies revealed the beauty of our generation as we near retirement and concentrate on what really matters…maintaining relationships.
2. The love in the eyes of members of our generation when they greeted the three remaining members of our parents’ generation: Dorothy Hess Stratton, Donna Hoey Stratton, and her husband Jim Hoey.
1. The feeling that enveloped me during family gatherings during childhood and returns whenever our family gathers: I am home. I am safe. I am loved.
by jphilo | Jun 16, 2014 | Family, Out and About
Camp Dorothy’s namesake, the camp’s activity director, and the man of steel are home safe and sound after a camp weekend that was on the wild side. Just how wild was it? So wild that someone didn’t notice the absence of Wheel of Fortune. So wild that in 48 short hours, the camp’s namesake managed to:
- Eat wilted lettuce and fresh strawberries.
- Beat the camp director and the man of steel playing SkipBo.
- Tour the newly remodeled church she attended during the years she lived in Le Mars.
- Enjoy supper with her sister, brother-in-law, and niece.
- Sleep through two separate storm warnings.
- Count windmills from Le Mars to Spit Rock State Park until the flooded fields caught her attention instead.
- Observe firsthand the damage at Luverne, Minnesota caused when the dam at Blue Mound State Park burst after a night of heavy rain.
- Spend three hours receiving hugs from nieces and nephews, eating delicious picnic food, and having her photo taken in a pink top hat and purple feather boa. (The activity director apologizes for forgetting to grab her own camera to record the moment and for not asking the photo booth operator to email the image in time for this post!)
- Watch a 1950 home movie of a trip to the Black Hills by the camp’s namesake (at about the age of the above photo), her parents, and her younger sister that contained an abundance of footage of people emerging from outhouses.
- Confess she took the footage of her father snoring in the back seat of their car during the trip.
- See the love in her nephews’ and nieces’ eyes when they hugged her good-bye.
- Work on crossword puzzles during the 5 hour trip home.
- Say she’d had a wonderful day.
- Head straight to bed upon return to the activity director and man of steel’s home.
Camp Dorothy on the wild side wraps up later this morning, when the activity director takes the camp namesake to Hickory Park for lunch (yum!), a doctor’s appointment (yuck!), and then home to her very own bed. (Ahh!)
by jphilo | May 13, 2014 | Family, Top Ten Tuesday, Uncategorized
Mother’s Day was a very special time in my childhood home. Every year we celebrated Mom’s extraordinary efforts to provide for our family. But when Mother’s Day fell on May 11, as it did on the day of his birth in 1929, we celebrated Dad’s birthday, too. Since his birthday again fell on Mother’s Day this year–and because I’m madly editing page proofs for The Caregiver’s Notebook and don’t have time to blog much–today’s top 10 list gleans from two posts from the past: What My Mamma Taught Me and Top Ten Things About My Dad.
10. Never allowed discussions about politics to become cut throat. Dad’s most barbed political statement referred to his right arm, severely weakened by multiple sclerosis: It’s my Republican arm. Not good for much of anything.
9. The library is an excellent place to hang out. Mom checked out a lot of books and taught her kids to love to read. And go to the library where books can be checked out for FREE!
8. Birthday and Christmas presents matter. Dad picked Mom’s birthday and Christmas gifts carefully. He looked through the newspaper ads and phoned the store to quiz the clerk for a long time about whatever gift he wanted to buy. Once he made his decision, he arranged to have the gift delivered when Mom was at work.
7. Every woman should get an education so she can support herself and her family. Mom went back to school to finish her 4 year degree after Dad was diagnosed with MS in the late 1950s. She went on for her Master’s Degree in the mid 1960s. Our lives would have been very different had she not pursued those degrees.
6. People matter more than winning does. Dad loved to play cards with friends, but he didn’t play to win. He played to talk.
5. A strong family will be a constant support throughout life. As a teenager, Mom babysat many of her nieces and nephews. Those nieces and nephews open their homes to her whenever we travel back for funerals or reunions. Their love and respect for her is a touching tribute to her influence on their lives.
4. Proximity matters. Having Dad close by in his wheelchair always made me feel safe.
3. Teaching Is more than a job. Mom’s passion for her work demonstrated that teaching is not just a way to support your family. It’s a way to inspire a new generation and help them realize their own potential.
2. No matter what happens, find a reason to laugh. Dad’s constant sense of humor and thousand watt smile taught that lesson time and time again.
1. True love never fails. Mom cared for Dad at home from 1959 when he was diagnosed with MS until 1983 when he required nursing home care. Once he moved to the nursing home, Mom visited him daily, unless she was visiting her kids and grandkids, from 1983 until his death in 1997. Every time she walked through the door, his face brightened and his eyes shone.
Every now and then someone asks why I drive 45 miles to visit Mom Tuesday after Tuesday. The answer is simple. It’s what my parents taught me.
Love bears all things, hopes all things, believes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails.
1 Corinthians 13:7–8
What lessons did your parents teach you? Leave a comment.
by jphilo | Apr 14, 2014 | Family
Thanks to the nasty Winter of 2014, Camp Dorothy overnight jaunts have been on hold since the end of December. That’s when the camp’s namesake went to Minnesota for Camp-Dorothy-Christmas-with-the-Family and came back with the annual white elephant gift exchange’s most highly coveted white elephant gift: the 2014 Hunk of the Month Calendar with her son’s photo receiving top billing. (See photo above.)
Throughout the winter months, Camp Dorothy festivities were reduced to Tuesday outings. Activities were limited to doctor appointments, hair appointments and shopping trips to Walgreens, all of which were accompanied by groans and excuses from the camp’s namesake about why she should stay in the car while the camp director did all the errand running and shopping. The high point of each outing was lunch, an event that found the camp’s namesake ready to hop out of the car and trundle into the restaurant with nary a complaint.
The highlight of last week’s day camp was a conversation that falls into the yes-an-85-year-old-mother-can-still-make-her-nearing-60-daughter-crazy category. The camp director/daughter opened the conversation with the following statement. “I’m actually making supper tomorrow night. I’ve been traveling so much lately I’ll have to learn how to cook again.”
To which the camp namesake replied, ” Complain, complain, complain. I feel so sorry for you, Jo.”
Innocently, the camp director objected, “I didn’t mean to complain. But I haven’t cooked for a while and need to get back into the groove.”
“Always an excuse,” the 85-year-old replied. “You’ve always got an excuse. You’re life is just so hard.”
The camp director’s sputtered, “But…but…how can you razz me when you don’t cook at all anymore?”
‘That’s right,” she said proudly. “I turned all that over to your brother. It’s not my problem anymore. Though he bugs me until I help clean out the dishwasher. He’s so unreasonable.”
“Yet you’re chastising me for saying I haven’t cooked for so long I need to learn how to do it again.” The camp director turned her head to hide the twitch in her eye.
The camp namesake smiled smugly and looked out the window. “Always a comeback, Jo. Always a comeback. You came out talking and haven’t stopped since.”
Sigh!
by jphilo | Mar 4, 2014 | Family, Top Ten Tuesday
10. He gave rabbit kisses. No way to describe them. You had to be there.
9. When I was home sick from school, laying on the couch, he would park his wheelchair beside me, and we would watch Captain Kangaroo together. He laughed as hard as I did.
8. Having Dad close by in his wheelchair made me feel safe.
7. He picked Mom’s birthday and Christmas gifts carefully. He looked through the newspaper ads and phoned the store to quiz the clerk for a long time about whatever gift he wanted to buy. Once he made his decision, he arranged to have the gift delivered when Mom was at work.
6. Dad loved to play cards with friends, but he didn’t play to win. He played to talk.
5. He was never, ever a picky eater. He ate with gusto whatever was served and always complimented the cook.
4. Dad never allowed discussions about politics to become cut throat. His most barbed political statement referred to his right arm, severely weakened by multiple sclerosis: It’s my Republican arm. Not good for much of anything.
3. His thousand-watt smile and sense of humor.
2. He was always happy to see people. Always.
1. Dad rarely showed bitterness during his 38 year battle with multiple sclerosis. He was 29 when it was diagnosed, 31 when he required a wheelchair and retired, 54 when he entered a nursing home, and 67 when he died. I am so grateful for his example, his influence, and the years his life intersected mine.
Oh, Dad, I miss you!
In memory of Harlan John Stratton: May 11, 1928–March 4, 1997.
by jphilo | Mar 3, 2014 | Family
Thank you.
Two words I wanted to say to C. J. Gauger face-to-face at his 100th birthday Saturday. But a snowstorm and frigid temperatures thwarted my plans. So today’s post is devoted to thanking a man who touched my parents and their young family in profound and positive ways.
Thank you…
for taking an interest in Harlan Stratton, my dad, in the mid-1950s when he was hired as Youth Extension Director in Plymouth County and later as Mills County Extension Director. Thank you for mentoring him and taking an interest in his wife and kids.
Thank you…
for observing a stumble in Dad’s gait as he walked away from you after at a 4-H function and telling a co-worker, “Something’s wrong with Harlan. We need to be ready to stand beside him and support his family.”
Thank you…
for acting upon those words after Dad was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 1959–for calculating exactly how many days, minus vacation and sick days, he needed to work to reach the five year mark and qualify for a Civil Service pension.
Thank you…
for arranging for Dad’s Extension Office co-workers to pick him up for work once he couldn’t drive, to complete his paperwork once he couldn’t write, to read to him when his vision blurred, until Dad reached the five year mark.
Thank you…
for a pension that allowed my parents to buy a house built for a wheelchair, something they couldn’t afford to do on Mom’s teaching salary and in the absence of Social Security, which Dad didn’t receive until 1990 when he was 62.
Thank you…
for a pension, from which Mom gave Dad $40 as spending money every month. Not much, even in the 1960s and 70s, but enough to allow him to purchase birthday and Christmas presents for his wife, take his family out to supper now and then, and maintain his dignity.
Thank you…
for collecting money to purchase a small life insurance policy for Dad to provide something for Mom and her three small children…just in case. When Dad died in 1997, Mom and us kids were surprised to learn about the policy. Since we didn’t need it, we used it to start the Harlan Stratton 4-H Scholarship given annually at Iowa State University.
Thank you…
for the small pension Mom still receives as Dad’s beneficiary. It’s only $211 a month, and she doesn’t really need it. So she donates part of it to the scholarship fund and spends the rest on college text books for her grandchildren.
Thank you…
for calling some years ago, after reading a newspaper article that connected me to Dad. Thank you for confessing, over the phone, the extent of your kind involvement on behalf of our family when my siblings and I were very young, when Mom was vulnerable and in need of hope.
Thank you…
for showing how a small thread of kindness weaves goodness into the fabric of a family for decades and generations until its members are strong enough and grateful enough to weave kindness into the lives of others.
Thank you…
and happy birthday, C. J. Gauger, one of the great men I have ever known.
