Mamaw

Recently, my maternal grandmother Delores turned 80.

80.

Wow.

I'm not even sure I want to live that long

...unless I can be as spunky and busy as she is!

This is Mamaw with her four kids.

My mom, and my uncles Mike, Tom, and Tim.

These are her siblings.

Great-Aunt Peg, Mamaw, and Great-Uncle Deb

And these are most of her grandkids (minus spouses) and great-grandkids, but not all of them.

I won't put you through the agony of trying to match faces with names.

Except for that little brown cutie with the orange flowered dress in the front row.

I'm partial to her.

Growing up, I didn't see as much of Mamaw as I did my dad's folks.  It seemed a rare occasion that we got to go and spend the night with her and Papaw Runyan on their farm in Waynetown.  But there are some things about those times that stick in my mind...

Mamaw had a breakfast nook.  And when I say nook, I mean small.  Even to me as a child, it seemed small and cozy in comparison to her more formal dining set.  But I loved it in there.  There were little windows up at the top of the wall, interesting knick-knacks to look at, and she always got Froot Loops for us to have for breakfast.  I also remember following her through the grocery store as we went to get that forbidden cereal.  She walked so fast that I had to practically trot to keep up with her.  Till this day, I have not figured out how her short legs could go places so quickly!

There were lots and LOTS of barn cats at Mamaw's house.  I remember a dog, I think, but I definately remember tons of cats.  I loved it.  I also liked watching Mamaw pour food and water into big bowls and giggle as all the cats sauntered up, rubbing her legs and meowing.  We had cats too, but not that many all at one time.  I'm guessing she never had a problem with mice!

We played upstairs at Mamaw and Papaw's house.  There was a large loft-like area with a bed and toys, and one bedroom that was separate.  I don't remember all of the toys up there.  I'm sure they were your regular old-fashioned wood and metal toys.  But there was one toy I especially liked.  I think the best thing to call it was an electric organ.  It wasn't what we think of as a keyboard that is commonly in use now.  It made this funky sound and it had knobs to adjust things on it.  Another thing I was fascinated by were her lava lamps.  I can remember lying in bed, looking at the lighted lava blobs floating up and down, lulling me to sleep. 

There was a bathroom upstairs that was unique.  For one, it had a window that was nearly floor to ceiling.  I'm pretty sure the upstairs was a finished attic, because the walls slanted inward.  Anyway, this made the shower quite interesting.  I remember that by the time I was ten or twelve, it could be a little awkward, but it was fun, because it was different.  There were blood red bath mats, one in front of the tub, and one in front of the toilet.  I'll never forget those, because the mat around the toilet was shaped like giant feet.  I thought that was the coolest thing ever.

Mamaw and Papaw had lots of land, with plenty of room to run, fields for boundaries, a huge metal pole barn with lots of tractors and tools in it, and the forbidden well.  There was a colapsed wellhouse, and I'm pretty sure she told us every time we went there that we should never, never, never go close to it.  I was horribly curious and wanted to explore, but my very vivid imagination could also imagine wasting away from hunger at the bottom of the well if I went in there, because it would take Mamaw at least until lunch to figure out I was down there. 

Since they had such a big yard, Mamaw did a lot of mowing.  In a tube top.  I remember as a child being almost horrified that someone would wear what was essentially a bra in public (you know, in the middle of countless acres of corn and soybeans).  But she didn't have tan lines on her shoulders that way!

As I grew older, my times with Mamaw changed.  Papaw passed away, she sold the farm house, and moved into a condo.  We spent a lot of lunches at Taco Bell, talking.  I felt like I could tell her all the troubles of my teenage and young adult heart.  To my knowledge, those "secrets" have never passed her lips. 

It was really neat to be there for the celebration of her 80th birthday.  We had people from three states there, and a great dinner at Hollyhock Hills restaurant.  Then we came back to a local banquet room and held a surprise reception.  Mamaw was in her glory.  Her face was just beaming.  Granted, she's had some health issues, so she's slowed down from the speed-walking, tube-top mowing Mamaw of my youth. 

But now she moves more at my speed, and that's just fine with me!

Wordless Wednesday

Grandpa Dillon

 

 






Christmas 2011

Grandpa Dillon

Jim's dad used to ride bulls. 

I just love these photos!

Turkey, Lights, and Beads

I've been looking at the holiday season with a little bit of dread.  I'm not gonna lie.

Jim was a LOVER of Thanksgiving.  Last year, he was horribly sick (as in hospitalized sick), but he was bound and determined that he was going to make it to his sister's for dinner.  He'd been in the hospital for four days and he was ready to GO.  He was literally ripping his heart monitor off when the nurses weren't quick enough to discharge him.  I had to pretty much smack him around to stop him from taking out his own IV.  It was a four hour drive the next day, but we made it to Lisa's house- on time- for dinner!

This year, Marley and I spent Thanksgiving with my family.  We'd missed out on the festivities last year, so it was nice to spend that time with them.  This year I brought sugar cream pie... in memory of Jim.  It made me smile to think that the Lord probably makes sugar cream pie available to him every day if he wants it.  Even though the pie I made was good, it had a little bit of bittersweet to it for me.  I suppose it always will.

I was raised with a lot of traditions surrounding Christmas.  Jim and I made the trip to be with family on Christmas day until we had Marley.  Then we made the hard choice to spend Christmas Day at our home, four hours away from our loved ones.  But in doing that, we blended traditions that we both loved about our own upbringings.  I love to have a freshly cut tree in the house.  So, Jim would faithfully follow me through tons and tons of trees, until we found just the right one.  Then he'd haul it home with me and help me set it up.  That simple feat alone is a great test of marital communication.  Seems like the trunks got crooked on the way home somehow. 

Jim and I would make gooey chocolate chip cookies (my tradition) while we decorated the tree.  We listened to Elvis Christmas music (his tradition), and he'd put the hooks on the ornaments for me so I could hang them up.  When Marley came along, she made it her personal mission to "help" put on the beads.

This year was different.  Jim wasn't here.

But someone that we love and who takes care of us was there.  I guess he knew this would be a tricky time for me, so he suggested that he come over and helped me get a tree set up while Marley was in preschool.  The look on her face was priceless when she walked in the door and saw the livingroom rearranged and the tree ready to go.  Out came her Santa hat, and off to work we went. 

This year was her first time putting the star on top too!

It needed a little *ahem* straightening later on.

And of course, we have her little window decorations

to play with too. 

 I guess this is her addition to the Christmas tradition at our place. 

One memory this year that was precious to me...

I love Nativity sets.  I have three or four of them, and I'm always looking for interesting new ones to add to my collection.

Jim loved Santa and those little dolls that sing REALLY LOUDLY when you squeeze their hand.

This makes for an interesting mix, for sure!

{And yes, Virginia, I do believe there's room for Santa and Baby Jesus in my livingroom... but I digress.}

This year I pulled all of the customary things out of the Christmas tubs... lights, beads, ornaments, candles, my favorite Nativity (poor Joseph is missing a hand, because Marley loved him especially much last year!).

And then I uncovered the dolls.

Marley jumped and then squeeled with delight when I squeezed their hands and they began singing goofy Christmas songs.

And that's when I realized I had a choice.

I could be sad and feel sorry for her and me because he's not here to push those buttons and laugh his contagious laugh.

Or I could giggle and dance around with our daughter and help her remember how she and Daddy used to drive Mama nuts with those silly dolls.

Jim's not here in body, but those dolls sure are, and they were a fun part of him.

And now they are perched under the little tree in her bedroom.

Because they still sing REALLY LOUDLY.

And she wanted them there.

This is precious to me, because a simple act of squeezing that doll's hand brought back memories that I thought were gone.  When you lose someone, it seems like many of the good things that you love and remember about them can get buried under the trauma of how they left.

Then you find something random~ like a singing doll~ and suddenly it's like they're here again.  It helped me to remember another piece of a wonderful life with a wonderful man. 

A life full of God's blessings and faithfulness.

And that's really, really great.

Tradition

Traditions... every family has them. 

For my family, Christmas has always been a time that is rich with traditions.  As a child, putting up the tree and decorating the house was something that we did together as a family with great joy.  We kids could hardly wait until it was time to head to Starnes' Christmas Tree Farm to pick out our very own tree from acres and acres of Christmas trees.  From all corners of the pine-filled field one could hear the voices of six delighted children yelling to Mom and Dad, "How 'bout this one?  No, this one is better!  Hey Mom, over here!".  Actually, Mom was usually in the middle of it all, scoping out trees.  Bless my dad for his patience with us all.  He'd just bide his time, carrying the saw,  until a consensus was reached.  Then he or my brothers would lie down on the ground, which was sopping wet sometimes, to cut the tree down.  We'd squeal with delight when the final stroke of the saw sent "our tree" toppling to the ground.  Then it was off to tie the poor tree to the top of the van, pile in, and head home.  Invariably, it was nearly dark.  We never seemed to leave enough time to execute our excursion before nightfall.

Once we were home, we'd turn up the tunes (think Johnny Mathis or Bing Crosby), wrestle the tree indoors, and turn on the oven.  This was the one night when we got to eat all the chocolate chip cookies our little (or not so little) tummies could hold, along with a nice cold glass of milk.  We barely cooked them because at the Payne house we like them so soft and gooey that you just about need a spoon to eat them!

This year, Mom and Dad invited us down to help continue the tradition of setting up the Christmas tree.  Five out of six of us kids were able to join them for the fun.  The one sibling who couldn't make it now lives in Colorado, so he's got a good excuse!  This year it was a house full of music, cookies, decorating, and crafts.  There were ten little ones running around enjoying the festivities in addition to all of the adults.  It was a lively place indeed! 

We started out at a different Christmas tree farm this year, since our old stomping grounds are no longer open.  Marley and I arrived after the others.  It was a long walk to the back of the grounds, but all we had to do was follow the voices...

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Even the dogs came along for the fun!

Horses in a nearby field captured the girls' interest too...

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Beautiful babe in the sunlight.

Then we headed home to set up the tree...

Next, it was time for the kiddos to put on the decorations! 
Their favorite part!

Don't forget the angel! 

This year, the honor was bestowed on Carli.

Where was my darling daughter during the BEST PART of the whole afternoon, you ask?

She was passed out on the couch, 'cause tree hunting is hard work, ya know!

This year, there were enough little hands to help with the decorating that the adults got to sit back and relax a little.

Uncle Geoff's iPhone was a hit as well...

I think they were playing Angry Birds. HA!
Amidst cookies, music, and laughter, we added a new component to our festivities...

...crafts.  Marley woke up for this part!

There was also Dad's famous french onion soup, but it's not nice or flattering to take pictures of people while they're eating, so you'll just have to use your imagination. 

I love this time of year!  It was so nice that since we are living here in Indiana now, we were able to take part in the festivities that we often missed when we lived out of state. 

Traditions...every family has them. 

They're our common thread, the thing that brings us together, a safe and happy place.

 

Choppin' Wood

When  I was a kid, every fall my family had a tradition (dreaded chore?) that we did together.  We chopped wood- lots of it.  Mom and Dad have always heated the house with wood.  I have lots of memories of Dad with his chainsaw in the woods, my brothers with axes, and us girls helping to carry and stack it.  Well, times have changed and we are older, with kids of our own.  Mom and Dad have put a furnace in the house, but only use it as a backup.  My brothers are old enough to wield chainsaws, and we have discovered the wonders and joy of a hydraulic wood splitter.  Whoever invented this magical machine is a wonderful, wonderful person!  Just sayin'.

Last weekend David, Cathy, and I headed down to Mom and Dad's with our families to help with the annual woodcutting.  We had a magical woodsplitter that we had borrowed from some friends from church, a couple of chainsaws, my big Dodge truck and the little Toyota, and five kids who wanted to help.  There was a big tree down the creek and around the corner as well as one that blew over in the field.  I was very excited to kick the Dodge into 4WD and drive about a quarter mile down the creek where Dad and David were cutting the tree into logs.

See the little Toyota in the background?  That was the first vehicle I bought with my own money.  I've graduated to a larger vehicle that's not a manual transmission and carries more than two people, but I love that little truck.  Dad drives it now and he might love it as much as I do.  But I digress...

Look at David hoisting those logs.  We figured the smaller ones weighed about 300 pounds, and they got bigger.  He loaded my truck four times, I think, about 5-7 logs each time.  I tell you this because I am still impressed with his stamina and strength. 

And I wish I were as young as he is again.

Brian was on the receiving end to help unload and saw a different tree.  I mostly drove, but I did help Mom and Cathy run the wood splitter some.

Then it was down to the field to where Mom, Cathy, Brian, and the kiddos were working.  Marley and Cathy's youngest helped as much as their three year old selves could, but Cathy's three oldest were little workhorses!  Amongst climing up the cliff by the creek and the huuuuuge root ball of the tree that blew over, they stacked and helped to load the truck so we could take it up to the house.  And each time my truck went up and down the creek, there were little ones climbing up in the back for a ride.  I got cracked up, because this is what I saw every time I looked in the rear view window...

This is the stuff good memories are made of!

Hangin' with Grandpa

Jim's dad is what I  like to call a "salty" man.  He's a former Marine who's had some difficult times in his life.  He and Jim weren't really close growing up, but as Jim became a man, they grew closer.  When Jim was ill, Dave made the trip to Michigan as much as he was able.  He's a rough man with rough language and habits.  But he had a soft spot for Jim, and

 once Marley came along... well, it was all over. 

We still visit him now that Jim has passed, and he's always got cookies and milk for Marley.

He's always thought she was funny, and he laughs at just about anything she does. 

She's the apple of his eye.

These are some of my favorite photos of the three of them.

Wordless Wednesday

Great-Mamaw Delores Hollingsworth
2008

Canning Time

All of my growing-up years we had a garden and canned the vegetables that came out of it.  I have great memories of our family (under my Papaw Payne's watchful eye) planting, weeding, harvesting, and eating the bounty of our work. 

Last week, Marley and I got to go to Mom and Dad's to help carry on the tradition.

Picking beans with Grammy.



A big smile for her basket full of
 beans (and a few other fresh veggies!).



Mom and I were both surprised at how well she did with
snapping the beans and tossing out the ends.



Gotta wash them~ three times!

And check for any bad spots...

The washing was by far her favorite part.

Into the jars they go!

Yes, I DID help some!



She was soaking wet, so off came the shirt.
Time to put the buzzer on the top!




There's a certian beauty to a
simple thing like fresh green beans.
Love the color of them!




And the best part?  Eating big platefuls of beans that didn't quite make it into the jars!  This is the stuff great memories are made of!