In the summer of 1978 Steve and I were dating. We'd been going out for probably two months when he asked me to marry him. It was very sweet, but I was having cold feet. I had just gotten out of a TEN year long relationship and didn't think it was a good idea to jump right into another.
I told him I didn't think I was ready. I explained my excuses. I did have feelings for him, but I was scared! Well, he said, "Well, Lynnie, I'm ready to get married and start a family. If it's not with you, it'll be with someone else." Wow. He then left the next day to go to his college graduation in California (he was 29 and had just completed the rest of his studies here in Washington State).
I had a day or two to think about it and realized I didn't want to lose this wonderful guy! I decided to give Steve the surprise of his life! I took off work and bought two tickets to California -one round trip and one one-way back to Washington (he had hitchhiked down there with a buddy, who was also graduating). I contacted Steve's parents and got them to go in on the surprise. They came and picked me up at the airport and off we went to Santa Cruz to the graduation.
When we arrived, Steve's family all piled out of the RV and his dad asked Steve to go back into the RV to fetch his jacket. Steve went in and there I was! I told him, "Yes, I will marry you!" He was so surprised and excited! We had a wonderful week-long visit with his family and I met most of his 13 brothers and sisters. Then we flew back to Washington to begin our life together. We were married two months later.
Years later we were talking about this event. He told me he had really planned the whole thing (not the surprise trip, but the ultimatum). He said, "I knew you'd cave." What a guy. We had twenty-one wonderful years together till his heaven-going in 1999.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The Things Kids Say
I have some fun memories of the things my kids and grandkids have said - mostly when they're around two or three. I thought I'd share a few with you.
Little Julie, three, had trouble with her Rs when she was little. They would come out as Ws. One particular time she came downstairs ready to go somewhere. "Where are you going?" I asked her. "I'm going to the cow," she said. "Oh, the cow that gives milk?" I inquired. Her reply was priceless. "No, the cow that you dwive!"
I have a couple from Little Corrie. When she was two we were taking her picture. "Smile!" we said. Her response was sniff sniff sniff with her little nose. She thought we said "Smell!"
Next is my favorite one. One day Little Corrie, three, came in to talk to me. Very matter of factly, she stated, "Mommy, I don't kiss slugs anymore. I just pet them." How do you respond to that??? I said, "That's a good choice, Sweetie."
Recently my grandkids are following in their moms' and aunts' shoes. We were taking down Valentine's decorations and Little Ryder, three, was sad. I told him, "Don't be sad - pretty soon we'll put up St. Patrick's Day decorations!" He looks at me with big eyes and says, "Patrick? Oh, okay, I'll be Sponge Bob!"
Little Lyla, two, is coming up with good ones, too. Coming down with a cold she told her mom, "Mommy, my nose has water in it!"
As the little ones get older and talk more, I'm looking forward to collecting more. This time around, I'll try to write them down!
Little Julie, three, had trouble with her Rs when she was little. They would come out as Ws. One particular time she came downstairs ready to go somewhere. "Where are you going?" I asked her. "I'm going to the cow," she said. "Oh, the cow that gives milk?" I inquired. Her reply was priceless. "No, the cow that you dwive!"
I have a couple from Little Corrie. When she was two we were taking her picture. "Smile!" we said. Her response was sniff sniff sniff with her little nose. She thought we said "Smell!"
Next is my favorite one. One day Little Corrie, three, came in to talk to me. Very matter of factly, she stated, "Mommy, I don't kiss slugs anymore. I just pet them." How do you respond to that??? I said, "That's a good choice, Sweetie."
Recently my grandkids are following in their moms' and aunts' shoes. We were taking down Valentine's decorations and Little Ryder, three, was sad. I told him, "Don't be sad - pretty soon we'll put up St. Patrick's Day decorations!" He looks at me with big eyes and says, "Patrick? Oh, okay, I'll be Sponge Bob!"
Little Lyla, two, is coming up with good ones, too. Coming down with a cold she told her mom, "Mommy, my nose has water in it!"
As the little ones get older and talk more, I'm looking forward to collecting more. This time around, I'll try to write them down!
Friday, March 26, 2010
A Chance Meeting?
It was 1991. I had just finished a grueling year and a half of cancer treatment for Stage IV Metastasized Breast Cancer in the Bones. I was doing well. I was happy and relieved that it was over.
How I had come to have the treatment was a crazy chance in itself! I had been told by my doctors that I had 18 months to live. There was no hope. There were no treatments. The end.
Then I got a phone call from someone I hadn't heard from in literally years. She told me about a doctor at the University of Washington Cancer Research Center who was doing an experimental treatment for this type of cancer in pre-menopausal women. I was 37 with four little daughters. I went to the University and they took me on.
I underwent a bunch of treatments, weekly IV and daily oral chemotherapy for a year and surgeries and tons of radiation. It was definitely a full time job for me to work the treatment. Then I spent two months in the hospital for a bone-marrow transplant type program. Then more radiation. Now I was DONE! I had purchased four blonde wigs and I looked fabulous!
I asked God to let me help people as I had been helped. The doctors had even asked me to talk to some of their patients who were going through the same treatments! I was feeling very tuned in to people who were suffering, so this chance meeting was something to which I guess I was open!
I stopped at the grocery store on my way home (probably from one of hundreds of doctor appointments). I rounded the corner to the drink-and-chip aisle and saw one of the ladies who worked there sitting on the floor sniffing back tears. I asked her "Are you okay? Can I help you?"
She then proceeded to gush out how she was just diagnosed with metastasized breast cancer in her lungs and had been given a death sentence. She had a little boy about the age of my youngest daughter. I hugged her and told her "I have some hope for you!!"
I gave her the name and phone number of the doctor at the University. He also took her on as a patient. He gave her several more years with her son, and although she later succumbed to the cancer when it spread to her brain, she always cherished our friendship and our "chance meeting" in the grocery store!
God will lead you to help others with what you know!
How I had come to have the treatment was a crazy chance in itself! I had been told by my doctors that I had 18 months to live. There was no hope. There were no treatments. The end.
Then I got a phone call from someone I hadn't heard from in literally years. She told me about a doctor at the University of Washington Cancer Research Center who was doing an experimental treatment for this type of cancer in pre-menopausal women. I was 37 with four little daughters. I went to the University and they took me on.
I underwent a bunch of treatments, weekly IV and daily oral chemotherapy for a year and surgeries and tons of radiation. It was definitely a full time job for me to work the treatment. Then I spent two months in the hospital for a bone-marrow transplant type program. Then more radiation. Now I was DONE! I had purchased four blonde wigs and I looked fabulous!
I asked God to let me help people as I had been helped. The doctors had even asked me to talk to some of their patients who were going through the same treatments! I was feeling very tuned in to people who were suffering, so this chance meeting was something to which I guess I was open!
I stopped at the grocery store on my way home (probably from one of hundreds of doctor appointments). I rounded the corner to the drink-and-chip aisle and saw one of the ladies who worked there sitting on the floor sniffing back tears. I asked her "Are you okay? Can I help you?"
She then proceeded to gush out how she was just diagnosed with metastasized breast cancer in her lungs and had been given a death sentence. She had a little boy about the age of my youngest daughter. I hugged her and told her "I have some hope for you!!"
I gave her the name and phone number of the doctor at the University. He also took her on as a patient. He gave her several more years with her son, and although she later succumbed to the cancer when it spread to her brain, she always cherished our friendship and our "chance meeting" in the grocery store!
God will lead you to help others with what you know!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
My Very Literal Child
Some people don't read between the lines. They live their lives in the black and white; never gray. They would never park in a No Parking Bus Zone at a school - it could be MIDNIGHT and not a bus for miles. They would never touch the Wet Paint if there was a sign. They are naturally obedient and take everything in life literally.
I heard of one 8 year old who wouldn't come out of the stall in a ladies' room. Her aunt asked why she didn't come out. She said, "The sign in here says, 'Do not leave this area without washing your hands,' and there's only a toilet in here!" Literal.
My youngest daughter is like that. One time when she was three, I had put her in the Time Out Chair and forgot about her. An hour later I found her there, still sitting. I asked her why she was still there. "You said to sit here." I asked her, "Well, don't you have to go to the bathroom?" "Yes," she answered. I really felt badly about that one!
When my four daughters were young, we had horses of our own and boarding horses. I think at this particular time there were eight horses to feed twice a day. The girls took turns in pairs doing the feedings. This one evening it was pouring rain. The girls (the literal one and her sister) had been putting off and putting off feeding the horses because of the weather. Finally I was exasperated and said, "Girls, you get out there right now and don't come in until those horses are fed!"
Well, the girls went to the barn and had a fight. The non-literal one said to her sister, "Just go in and get out of my sight. I'll feed the horses by myself!" A while later I looked outside and saw the literal girl just standing in the rain, soaking wet, on the back deck to the house. I opened the door and said "Why are you just standing in the rain?" She answered, "Corrie said she didn't want me to help her feed the horses and to just let her do it alone." I then asked the million dollar question, "Well, why don't you just come in the house?"
"You said not to come in the house until the horses are fed."
I sure hope she's grown out of that.
I heard of one 8 year old who wouldn't come out of the stall in a ladies' room. Her aunt asked why she didn't come out. She said, "The sign in here says, 'Do not leave this area without washing your hands,' and there's only a toilet in here!" Literal.
My youngest daughter is like that. One time when she was three, I had put her in the Time Out Chair and forgot about her. An hour later I found her there, still sitting. I asked her why she was still there. "You said to sit here." I asked her, "Well, don't you have to go to the bathroom?" "Yes," she answered. I really felt badly about that one!
When my four daughters were young, we had horses of our own and boarding horses. I think at this particular time there were eight horses to feed twice a day. The girls took turns in pairs doing the feedings. This one evening it was pouring rain. The girls (the literal one and her sister) had been putting off and putting off feeding the horses because of the weather. Finally I was exasperated and said, "Girls, you get out there right now and don't come in until those horses are fed!"
Well, the girls went to the barn and had a fight. The non-literal one said to her sister, "Just go in and get out of my sight. I'll feed the horses by myself!" A while later I looked outside and saw the literal girl just standing in the rain, soaking wet, on the back deck to the house. I opened the door and said "Why are you just standing in the rain?" She answered, "Corrie said she didn't want me to help her feed the horses and to just let her do it alone." I then asked the million dollar question, "Well, why don't you just come in the house?"
"You said not to come in the house until the horses are fed."
I sure hope she's grown out of that.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Traveling With Mom and Dad
I had a wonderful childhood. The oops-kid at the end of the fertility train. My parents were both 38 when I was born. They both were the babies of their big families, too, so their parents were all dead when I came along. In fact my grandmother was a Centennial baby - born in 1876! And she lived the longest of the four - till the year I was born in 1952.
Every year my parents would take a road trip. Early on we all six piled into the '56 Buick and I would lay on the back window sill while we drove from the Chicago suburbs to Yellowstone or some other National Park. Through the years, the other siblings were too busy with their lives to go along, so I would be the only one. We would drive 500 miles a day, leaving early in the morning, trying to hit every "Biggest Ball of Yarn" type place or roadside private zoo. We went to weird places that were magnetic or looked sideways or had a great tidal rise. In all those two and then later three week trips, we managed to set foot in all 48 contiguous states, Mexico (near the border), all ten provinces of Canada and the Northwest Territories.
During these trips I thought I'd die of boredom, but my parents always were there to play word games and pass the time. Every afternoon my dad would try to find an ice cream cone for us. I read books in the back seat, too - tons of them. Looking back those were wonderful memories and even though the 500 mile a day journeys seemed torturous at the time, I bonded so close with my dear mom and dad and they gave me such rich memories and a great education.
Every year my parents would take a road trip. Early on we all six piled into the '56 Buick and I would lay on the back window sill while we drove from the Chicago suburbs to Yellowstone or some other National Park. Through the years, the other siblings were too busy with their lives to go along, so I would be the only one. We would drive 500 miles a day, leaving early in the morning, trying to hit every "Biggest Ball of Yarn" type place or roadside private zoo. We went to weird places that were magnetic or looked sideways or had a great tidal rise. In all those two and then later three week trips, we managed to set foot in all 48 contiguous states, Mexico (near the border), all ten provinces of Canada and the Northwest Territories.
During these trips I thought I'd die of boredom, but my parents always were there to play word games and pass the time. Every afternoon my dad would try to find an ice cream cone for us. I read books in the back seat, too - tons of them. Looking back those were wonderful memories and even though the 500 mile a day journeys seemed torturous at the time, I bonded so close with my dear mom and dad and they gave me such rich memories and a great education.
The Boarding House
It was the early 70s in upper New York. I moved into a little boarding house just outside the gate of West Point. I rented a bed for $3.00 a night - just a twin sized bed in an old lady's house. I was getting paid $1.65/hour at my photography studio job. I shared a room with eight other girls - dorm style (barracks?) - the other girls mostly were weekenders, visiting their cadet boyfriends. Eventually, since I was long-timer, the landlady gave me a tiny room just big enough for a twin bed with a tiny closet. I did not have any kitchen privileges and I had to share the tiny bathroom with all the other girls and was not allowed to keep anything personal in the bathroom. I lived on whatever at the time could be made with a hot water pot. Microwave ovens had not yet been invented; neither was Cup O'Noodles. So I made hot dogs and oatmeal, mostly. There also was no TV or any downstairs privileges - I could only enter by the front door and immediately go up the stairs to my room (once a maid's quarters). I had a little radio that I was not allowed to play loudly. That was life renting a room in someone's house back then!
Flash forward to 2010. I now have a boarder living in my house - I give him two rooms and his own bathroom for $400.00/month. He does have kitchen privileges and brings his kid with him whenever he has visitation. I'm trying to be a good landlady, but it's hard to have someone strange living in your house. I don't think I like the familiarity. Maybe my old landlady was right to keep it all separate.
Flash forward to 2010. I now have a boarder living in my house - I give him two rooms and his own bathroom for $400.00/month. He does have kitchen privileges and brings his kid with him whenever he has visitation. I'm trying to be a good landlady, but it's hard to have someone strange living in your house. I don't think I like the familiarity. Maybe my old landlady was right to keep it all separate.
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