Cane Pole Fishing

Fishing in our family hasn’t been a major project down through the years. Any that we DID was just a hobby - not exactly professional.

I’m talking about our earlier family years - not later. In HIS earlier ADULT years, Jim was a serious fisherman. He had all the trappings, with expensive rods and reels. He even went with some friends to Canada to fish. I haven’t seen him do much of that in recent years.

What I want to write about, though, is the “amateur” fishing - that I do, and some others also.

I did buy a rod and reel one time, and did do some “angling”, I suppose you could call it. But I have always been very weak in the fishing area.

One time, Jean and Leah (Jean’s oldest sister) and I went fishing at the Clarence J. Brown Reservoir here at Springfield. Leah had done a lot of fishing at Toledo.

Fishing right alongside the bank, we sat on “lawn chairs”. One time, my line got tangled on the rocks, and reaching over to free it, I, and my lawn chair, went headlong into the drink. I’d never seen Leah laugh so hard. Right behind her in laughter was Jean. Messy! (We DO have a picture, if I haven’t thrown it out!)

One of the times we visited Leah in Toledo many years ago, we went fishing in a local creek. Jimmy and Johnny (I think maybe 9 and 6 years old) had cane fishing poles, standing along the bank of the creek.

There hadn’t been much “fish biting” activity, when, suddenly, Johnny’s pole dipped, indicating he had a bite. He properly pulled up the pole right away, and there was a “crawdad” on his line. Jimmy looked at it and said, “Oh…a lobster!”

“MONSTER!!?”, Johnny said. He threw the pole in the creek, and ran back up the bank. Funny!

Last Thanksgiving, I went to Florida to be with my granddaughters Kelly and Jodi and their families. Kelly’s husband, Ben Farmer, is a truly “avid” fisherman. He fishes in the ocean, the Indian River, gravel pits, wherever fish roam. And, he knows what he’s doing! He’s caught all kinds of fish - including small sharks. (But NOT while I’m with him!)

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, Ben took us all fishing - I think in the Indian River, running parallel to the ocean, but inland. You can see me here, contentedly “fishing” along the rocks. That’s Ben standing with the pole; Rylan down front, and Kelly hiding behind me. I didn’t catch anything!



However, our granddaughter Jodi - “lucky” as she was - caught a small Sting Ray. See it here? (You notice how “derisively” I say “lucky”?) Fish? I couldn’t catch a cold!



When Jodi was just a “pre-teen”, I think, we took her fishing many times in the “reservoir” near Springfield. We, that is to say “she”, caught some small crappies. I did pull in a crawdad, one time.

Jean’s dad, Grandpa Anderson, fished a lot in his later retirement years. He knew what he was doing as well. He fished in some ponds near Mechanicsburg.

I don’t recall ever going fishing with my parents - or any of my family. And, though most of them ATE fish, I suppose, I didn’t touch fish to eat until Jean got me to go to Long John Silver’s, maybe 30 years ago.

I’m heading to Florida again this week, to visit again Kelly, Ben, Olivia and Ethan. (Jodi and Rylan moved to Springfield in February.) My guess is that Ben will take us out to the water again. I will TRY to bring in a “whopper”. (Or else, “tell a whopper”, whichever.)

It takes a lot of patience to be a fisherman. You have to do it for more reasons than just “bringing in a fish.” I’m told that many fishermen do it just for the “fun” of it; the “relaxation” of it; the “thrill” of it; or even, the hopeful “bragging” of it, I suppose.

And, though it’s fun for the whole family to fish together, there is the matter of an individual, just by him/herself, fishing, meditating, praying even.

Any fishing I did as a kid involved “night crawlers”. Now, Ben goes to the “bait shop” and gets shrimp, or minnows or whatever - almost professional. And, he knows how to do it!

I hope (I WANT to say “pray”) that Ben will get a “big one” while I’m there with them. I can’t wait to see him “haul one in” - grunting and smiling all the way. (Fisherman heaven?) I’ll do my best to haul out my trusty BlackBerry and take a picture of the fish (Ben too, of course).

Really!

Ya’ll wish me a “Happy Vacation” now! Ya heah?

By the way, guess how many postings I've made on this blog! Unbelievably, this is number 70!

Whew! That's a lot of "gabbing"!

Random Memories

Having started this “blog thing” early last November, and then completing over 65 individual postings of my “memories” over the past 85 years, I sometimes “rack my brain” - and even pray - for some more memories to recall and write down.

The problem is, I can think of many individual “happenings” that might be sufficiently interesting to “jot down” here, but many of them constitute only one short incident worth remembering. Hardly the 3 or 4 pages long that I usually write.

What to do about that?

The only, maybe even temporary, thing to do, I figured, is to write down this title above - “Random Memories” - and tell short, to the point, stories about SEVERAL “happenings”.

Can you live with that?

I think I’ve mentioned before that when different stories, or “memories” come to mind, I jot them down - either here on the computer; or in my BlackBerry if I’m out of the apartment (or in bed!); or even on any piece of paper available, if I have a pencil.

WARNING! I’m going to start relating one “short” incident after another, including what I can remember about it, then move on to the next one. I don’t mind admitting, that if more incidents on that subject come to mind, I very likely will extend that into its own “posting” on this blog.
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SABINA

Seventy-five to eighty years ago, our little church in Mechanicsburg was a member of The Methodist Protestant Church denomination. Though our local church was later called “Trinity Methodist”, (my sister-in-law Doris remembered that name for me) before that denomination merged with the Methodist Episcopal Church to form The Methodist Church, the two churches in town were called “The MP Church”, and “The ME Church”.

Though our church later had an Annual State Conference in Lakeside (on Lake Erie), at the time now discussed, the MP State Conference met at a Campground at the edge of Sabina, Ohio. When speaking of that annual conference, we just referred to “Sabina”. “Are you going to Sabina this year?” (Although I was only 8 or 9 years old, I CAN remember some things.)

The main thing I can remember about Sabina was that one summer during that time, my mother - Mae Maddex - was a “delegate” to the conference. Her responsibility - along with others - was to meet for maybe a week at Sabina - for inspiration, and Conference-wide decisions. Not the least of which was to help “assign” ministers to the various MP churches in the state.

The MP church at that time, was an “episcopal” denomination, as differing from a “congregational” one. That is, where the latter groups allowed a majority of the local members to vote on and decide who would be their minister for the coming year, in the episcopal group, the “conference” had the ultimate authority. Oh, the local group (represented by my mother and others from various churches in the state) could give input to the decision about their minister - even “requesting“ a certain man - their task was an “advisory” one only.

For the year now in question, my mother went to Sabina, accompanied by me! Though I wish there were some way to “accurately” determine the actual year, I can’t find it. Therefore, I have to “guess” that I was about 8 or 9 years old at the time.

Though Mother was in meetings without me most of the time, there were evening meetings of inspiration that we both attended. If I could only remember the names of some of the participants, it would surely include some well known names in the history of The Methodist Church.

My activities in the daytime, mostly centered around a fairly large Croquet Court. I met a friend there, a little older than I, who had his own “special” mallet. It had a short handle, and he was an accurate “hitter”. How I did it, I don’t know, but I somehow was able to get my own “special” mallet - and took it home with me at the end of the week.

There were tennis courts there, also. I was rather too young and/or small to play much of that, I think. (I’ve ALWAYS been “small”.)

Maybe 20 years ago or so, Jean and I drove to Sabina, looking for remnants of that “camp”. At that time, there were still some buildings left - barracks, I think. I was looking for the “large tabernacle” (at least in the eyes of a nine year old), but it apparently was torn down many years ago. Couldn’t find any tennis courts either.

Last time we went to Sabina, there was not even a “hint” of a campground ever having been there.

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1941 Chrysler

I have earlier indicated that Jean and the boys and I moved to Chicago the summer of 1954. Just after getting settled in our “two story flat” there, Martha was born.

In either 1955 or 1956, Jean took the three “kids” and drove back to Mechanicsburg for a summer vacation. (I saved my “vacation” for Christmas time.) The car she drove (the only one we had), was a 1946 Chevrolet Two Door sedan.

One evening, I received a call from her that went something like this:

“I just bought a car!”.

“You what?”

“I bought Forest McKinney’s 1941 Chrysler for $150. It’s only got 1500 miles on it. (pant, pant) It’s never been out of the garage in rain or snow. Forest wouldn’t do it. (pant, pant) It’s in excellent shape. The tires have plenty of tread on them. (pant, pant) The kids love it - and so do I. (pant, pant) Mom lent us the money. We can take our time paying her back.”

(She took her first long breath.)

“Uh………what else did you do in your spare time?”, I sarcastically ask.

“We drove up to see Leah in Toledo. The car drives and rides real well. We’ll drive it home next week.”

I don’t remember what she did with the Chevy, but I was glad to get rid of it. Even “gladder” to have a car with 1500 miles on it.

The car was really in good shape! The finish looked like new, and it drove like a Cadillac. (As if I knew what a Cadillac drove like.)

I remember a couple of instances about the Chrysler:

One day I was driving up Lincoln Avenue for home from Moody, and signaled for a left turn a block and a half from our house on Racine Avenue. Coming out from that side street (I don’t remember the name, and Google Maps doesn’t list it) was a car trying to turn left onto Lincoln Avenue. He “plowed” right into my left rear door, caving it in.

Somehow, the police were informed, and we exchanged insurance information and telephone numbers. The cars weren’t damaged enough to keep from driving, so we moved on.

The recalcitrant driver (I just love to use these long words) said he’d contact me and fix my car. He didn’t call.

The resident Moody attorney was named Anderson. Can’t remember his first name. (He’s a saint!) I went to see him some days after the accident, and he said something like “Let’s put the fear of God in him. (He didn’t actually use those words.) I’ll call him.”

He did call him, and the upshot was that the driver came up with $150 cash.

At Moody, I mentioned this experience to Ken Alspaugh, a fellow engineer there from Toledo, and he said,

“Don’t you have an old car?”

“I do”, I said.

“You know, those old cars are made of thicker steel than the new ones. Why don’t you get a bathroom plunger, and try to ‘suck’ that dent back to the proper shape?”

I did…….and it did. No evidence of damage.

Another time, while driving back to Mechanicsburg for a summer vacation, on a road just south of Lima, I saw strips of rubber “flying” from the left side of the car.

It was the tread from one of the tires. The tread was excellent, but the age of the tires had rotted them out, and one of them came apart.

Fortunately, we had a spare.

I think we eventually replaced all four of the tires.

That was a wonderful car for us - for several years. Sure hated to trade it in - whenever we did.

(Whew! Got in two experiences for one money!)

New Smyrna Beach

I had NEVER heard of that location in my entire “put together”, but we went there, and had another wonderful vacation.

Let’s see……….what year was that? Since Molly has already told me she doesn’t mind my relating how old she is, I can mention that she was young enough to sit on the “console” in the front seat of the car, keeping me - and the other drivers - awake as we drove all night. Singing, mostly, I think. She couldn’t have been more than six years old.

(Turns out it was 1982 and she was 8 years old, and Bobby 11)

Not so fast!

I’d better tell how all this came about.

Sometime in the spring of whatever year it was, John and Tonya called us (they lived in Chicago then), and invited us to join them in a Florida vacation. Whew! We’d never done that before.

It seems that a family in Cleveland owned a Condo in New Smyrna Beach, Florida - right on the ocean - and they had invited John and Tonya to spend a week in it - free!

Maybe another reminder is in order: I’m going on memory, solely, and I could make some mistakes. As usual, I depend on the Lord to recall to my memory such things as I should include - often just as I’m writing something else. (Free Association, again.)

John, Tonya, Bobby and Molly flew to Cincinnati, we picked them up, and they stayed over night. Early the next morning, all six of us took off for Florida.

We drove south, getting to US 35 around Chillicothe, following it to Charleston, West Virginia, and then, the new, partially completed, I 77.

Anything south of Charleston on that route was relatively new area to us, and even at night, it was an enjoyable trip.

I can’t remember where we stopped to eat and/or “fill up”, so I can’t comment on that. I 77 stopped before we got to Florida, so we took another route south east, to get us to New Smyrna Beach.

We found the condo, unloaded the car, and made ourselves at home.

We found the beach pretty quickly, and in fact, since the beach near the water was hard, I drove the car onto it. Jean had warned me NOT to get the car stuck in the loose sand farther in. “Of course I won’t,” I said. So, Bobby and I drove around to the beach.

Near the water, the sand appeared as hard as it was farther down the coast at Daytona Beach - noted for the hard, wide beach with MANY cars on it.

So, after driving onto the beach, I headed the car inland just a little ways into the loose sand to park, and promptly GOT STUCK. The car wouldn’t move. My good “buddy” Bobby, remembering what Grandma had said, ran into the condo saying, “Grandpa got stuck. Grandpa got stuck.”

With a little help from bystanders, I got “unstuck”, and I moved the car back to the other side of the condo, and went inside.

Jean (Grandma) was waiting for me, seated on the floor just inside the door, glaring at me when I came in. Like saying, “What did I tell you?”, or something like that. But, since I DID get the car loose, all was forgiven, I think. We laughed.

Somebody got up in the middle of the night, and turned on the light in the kitchen. Scrambling across the sink and wash board were what seemed like a score of cockroaches - none of them small. Typical of beach-side condos, we were told.

When we got up the next morning, I dressed up like a “hippy” as much as I could. I combed my hair straight down in the front (I had some then), displayed a gold chain and fob around my neck, wore what I considered “hippy” clothes, and walked out to the patio where John and Tonya were seated. One look at me, and Tonya said, “NOOOOO!” My attire appeared to be not acceptable. All a joke, of course.

Besides the fun of the beach, we toured the area - both near and far. One day, when John and Tonya had to go south on business to a Moody Radio Station he was responsible for, Jean and I took Bobby and Molly north to St. Augustine, touring the various sights - including the Castillo de San Marcos National monument, and Potter’s Wax Museum et al. We toured around the Old City.

While we were at New Smyrna Beach, NASA launched a satellite rocket. And, though Cape Canaveral was maybe forty or fifty miles south of us, we could see it as it went up. Exciting.

We enjoyed our week at New Smyrna Beach, and other places in Florida. If I can remember some more, I’ll include it.

On the way back, we didn’t take the Interstate the whole distance. We went through the state of Georgia on a state route. I remember that while on that route, I heard Randy Travis sing for the first time, and I think the song was titled, “The Old School”.

Also in Georgia, I remember that I went into a small general store and gas station, looking for, I think, a pair of sun glasses. While in there, the proprietor said, “Do you like Pac Man, Sir?” I looked rather indignant thinking he shouldn’t ask an adult about a kid’s game, until I realized that I was wearing a ball cap with “Pac Man” embroidered on the front. Embarrassing! (We HAD played Pac Man with the grandkids.)

What a wonderful time we all had!

New England Vacation

In the summer our Granddaughter Jodi turned 13, Jean and I took her with us to New England for a two week vacation. Well, we DID end up in Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont and Massachusetts, but our FIRST stop was on the east coast of Maryland - at Ocean City.

We initially just planned on a short vacation for the two of us, but an interesting transaction with the Social Security Administration, encouraged us to extend the vacation to two weeks, and include Jodi.

Let me explain the SSA transaction:

When I turned 65 five years earlier, though I applied for, and received, Medicare benefits, since I was still working full-time, I did NOT apply for Social Security benefits at that time. We all knew that you couldn’t apply for SS benefits while you were still employed full-time. Didn’t we?

Our understanding was that, at that time, if you DID get Social Security AND were still working, for every two dollars you made, your SS was reduced by one dollar. So….it was foolish to apply now for SS and have your benefits cut. Right?

(The Internet site of the Social Security Administration indicates that NOW, when you reach retirement age, you get full benefits, EVEN if you work.)

In late 1994, I was randomly talking with the Social Security official (Larry Todd) who was on a regular WEEC program ABOUT the benefits of SS. As part of our discussion about my age, and mentioning that I had not applied for Benefits, he said, “Why not?” “Well, I’m still working full time.”

“Maybe that’s not a problem”, he said. “I’m sure you don’t make a large amount of money while employed by a non-profit entity like WEEC, do you?” I replied, “Uh….no.” He then asked me how much WAS my salary at that time. I told him, and he implied that I should look into it, to see if I SHOULD apply for benefits.

I applied to receive SS benefits - retroactively to when I turned 65. The application asked for my age, as well as my present salary (no longer required), in addition to other pertinent information. At the same time, I opted to have benefits deposited directly into our Savings Account - whenever that would be.

The regional office of the SSA in Chicago contacted the local man about me, and suggested that since I was a “Corporation President”, I could set my own salary, and make it so I COULD get Social Security. He and I talked about it and I assured him that I had NOTHING to do with the amount of my salary, and that a Board of Trustees sets it. He understood, and passed that along to Chicago.

We rather forgot about it.

In maybe January or Febrary of 1995, I casually looked at our Bank Statement, and, lo and behold, there was a deposit in excess of $5,000 in our Savings Account. I was stunned - and disbelieving. Until, I remembered the SS application.

The next month, ANOTHER deposit, similar to the first, was made.

That’s when we decided on a two week vacation - and as a second thought, asked Martha if Jodi could go with us! Wonder of wonders!

It was the summer of 1995, and we drove east to the DC area, then east of that to Ocean City.

You should have seen our car! We bought from Sears a large hard plastic, easily accessible carrying case and installed it on the top of the car. Looking back, it’s a wonder the wind didn’t blow it off. However, it WAS secured tightly. No mis-adventures with the car.

(Oh…..I did damage the right rear view mirror while backing into a parking place someplace in Massachusetts.)

We put up in a Hotel right on the beach at Ocean City.

How did we happen to choose Ocean City? From a promotional brochure, is my memory. We took advantage of some special deal offered by a Hotel on the Beach. Looked like a good deal to us.

Of course, we got out our swim suits right away, and sat on the beach, waded in the ocean, walked up and down the beach, watched some young people build sand castles, etc. We were ecstatic!

Though we had the hotel reserved for a whole week, after 3 or 4 days, we got bored and checked out, then drove northward. Jodi’s DEAREST desire was to see some whales on the ocean. It seems to me that that was when the “Free Willy” craze was on. All the kids liked whales.

(In that two week period, I think we must have taken 5 or more trips with the Whale Watchers.)

On the first “whaling” trip, we were on the starboard side of the Whale Boat, when suddenly over the PA system we heard: “Whales on the port side!!” I turned to look at Jodi, and she was nowhere in sight. In a split second, she had crossed to the other side.

Other times we saw otters, seals, all kinds of birds, and other sea animals.

When we left Ocean City, we went north on a course that I wish I could reconstruct, but so far cannot. We just traveled and “sight saw” until evening, then looked for a Motel. One of the ongoing debates we had was “what is a good Motel?” Many times, I would see something and suggest we might stop there, and invariably, Jodi AND Grandma would say, “But, Grandpa. We want a NICE motel!” Right! Running dialogue - and a LOT of fun!

Except for sight-seeing along the way - such as New York City - we just drove north, hoping to get to the New England Coasts to find some “Whale Watchers”.

After New York, I think we just took the Interstate (such as it was in 1995) up into Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine.

Not having a previous plan, nor any official information, we just looked at a map and drove.

A very interesting site we ran on to in New Hampshire was Mount Washington. We were driving south, and saw a sign for the driving entrance to Mount Washington. There’s a Cog Railway that climbs directly to the summit (more or less) on its 3.1-mile track, while the 8-mile Auto Road winds its way up Chandler Ridge on the east side of the mountain.

We chose the Auto Road - never imagining how steep, and potentially treacherous it was. We discovered that going up was a “piece of cake” compared to coming down. I’ve never been on such a steep slope as that was. Jean was nearly apoplectic. I don’t know what we’d have done if Jodi wasn’t along to keep talking to and soothing Jean. “That’s OK, Grandma. We’re all right. Grandpa is right on the road”, etc.

After descending, we went farther south, then east on a state highway, and shortly found a real nice country style Motel that we “put up in” for the night.

Since this was 14 years ago, I don’t remember the exact sequence of the stops and routes we took. I just remember “snippets” of the various spots. So, I am just rambling, mentioning things as I remember them. Well……..I guess that’s what I do on ALL of these postings. That’s really what “free association” writing is all about:

the spontaneous and uncensored expression of thoughts or ideas, in which each one is allowed to lead to or suggest the next.

Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2005 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

In Massachusetts, we did go through Hyannis Port, made famous by the Kennedy family. In fact, we stayed there one night - in Hyannis, actually.

Though we, of course, stopped at a number of places - if only to stay the night - we purposely spent several days and nights at Bar Harbor, Maine. Jean and I had been there previously, and we wanted Jodi to see the sights there, as well as do more “Whale Watching.”

(Of course, the local pronunciation of Bar Harbor is “Baaaa haaaa ba” or, Bah Hah Bah.)

Another site not far from there is the Cadillac Mountain. We drove to the top of that, and when the clouds are clear, the view is terrific.

Near there also is the Acadia National Park, and includes a “drive through” park that features Wild Horses roaming freely. We spent considerable time there looking for and observing the horses - of all sizes. Jodi was ecstatic. She couldn’t get enough of that.

I’ve written this much without any input from Jodi. If I can get her to remember something, I’ll include it. If not, I’ll just go with this.

(She mostly confirmed what I have written, though being sure I mentioned that not only was Jodi wanting a “nice motel”, but so was Grandma!)

It was one of the best vacations Jean and I had!

Kings Island

I’m not sure I remember enough of our trip there with 5 of our Grandchildren, but I can at least start it.

I’ll have to get some help from them for this trip, as I did for “The Smokies”. Here’s what I remember so far:

Jean and I took Jimmy, Bobby, Kenny, Molly and Kelly to the Kings Island Amusement Park - located at the town of Kings Mills, OH, just north of Cincinnati on I 71. That was the same week Jean put up a “schedule of duties” on the wall of our hallway. We had all 5 of them for a week. Again, Jodi and Sherilyn were too young. (Sorry about that!)

We left home early, so we could be there at opening time. We lived maybe 70 miles from it.

We only got as far as Xenia (some 40 miles away), when our car overheated. We stopped there at a service station for repairs. I don’t remember the exact problem, nor how it was fixed, but we then got on our way.

Arriving at that parking lot was somewhat intimidating, since it was so large. However, as we arrived, there were MANY cars/buses there ahead of us.

We unloaded everybody from the car, and headed for the gate. It seems to me that Jean had taken along some lunch and cold drinks that we left in the car in a cooler.

Just to the right of the gate was the first ride: The Tilt-A-Whirl! Everybody RAN toward that ride, and I think all the children got on. It wasn’t long, however, before one of them got sick from the constant whirling around, and we had to take him to the Nurses’ Facility. (I don’t remember what it was called.)

The rest of them didn’t get sick, so they went on to the next rides. I’m not sure, but I think Jean stayed with the sick one, while I chaperoned the other 4 on some of the other rides. Didn't stay there long, though.

Before I FORGET the name of the BIG ride, I’d better write down that it was called “THE BEAST”. The line to get on that ride was over an hour long. But, we ALL got in line. Since the order of events and the rides we took is a blur to me, I THINK the sick one was well enough to ride on it. That was the fastest, bumpiest, scariest, yet thrilling ride I had ever taken. The “kids” felt the same, I think. Much of my memory of it was the noise and shaking, especially as we rounded corners.

Fantastic!

(I’ve got to be careful here not to confuse this visit with several others we had over maybe a 4 year period. Forgive me if I get the visits mixed up.)

One event that I’d better mention before Bobby gets after me was our experience with Colas and straws. When we got our drinks, I passed them all around, and asked the Attendant for our straws. He/she said, “We don’t provide straws at Kings Island.” Bobby thinks I said, “What!? No straws? Surely Kings Island would have straws! I can’t believe it!”, or something like that. Satisfied, Bobby?

(When he kids me about that, I say, “But don’t forget. The NEXT year they had straws. Complaining was worthwhile.” Bobby may or may not agree.)

In spite of all the fun he had, Bobby’s only specific memory was of the Hanna-Barbera boat ride that broke down, with him (and others, I suppose) stuck on it. The wait appeared to be less bothersome than the constant repeating of the song being sung - over and over and over! Quoting Bobby: they were “singing maniacally”. He said “it sounded pretty creepy after hearing it ten times in a row”. Apparently, they mostly liked that ride since it was cool inside, while being hot outside.

There were 2 water rides that I remember. One provided a big “drop” down a water filled incline (we were in a boat), and another provided a long ride overhead, along a fairly long course. We ALL liked them. I wish I could remember the names of the rides.

I just now remember seeing Davey Concepcion, the Cincinnati Reds short stop at the time, running out of that ride.

For lunch, I think we had our hands stamped while we went out to the car in the parking lot and ate the food Grandma Jean had prepared for us.

(Just 8 hours prior to this posting, Kelly sent the following. It’s a GREAT commentary about that time!)

Hi Grandpa,

I remember the week with the chore chart poster. It was such a special week because ALL of my favorite cousins were spending a week at your house, which meant I was spending the week with you as well. Like you, I tend to blur the multiple visits to Kings Island. What I remember is the ride there. When we were getting close, we would look for the tower which overlooked the mountains of trees. Such an exciting feeling. I had so much anxiety and excitement with butterflies in my stomach during the trip there.

It was always about the thrill of the roller coasters. The feeling wouldn't go away until I got off that first ride. Then, I was good to go. Except for one time. I think it was this trip that I came down with an incredible migraine headache. The only medicine available was at the clinic. It was in pill form. I must have been pretty young because at the time, I could not swallow a pill. I had to rest for awhile in the clinic. I don't even remember if I ended up swallowing the pill or not.

What a great week, overall. Grandma had a great idea with the chart for earning money. It kept us all in line and helped with keeping things picked up. The week was full of Atari (remember Grandma playing Pac Man and Bobby's triathlon Atari glove), trips to the rocket slide park (Dukes of Hazard Grandma), acting out and role playing movies in the back yard, bedtime stories, and corn three ways(Grandma asked what kind of corn to make and everyone wanted something different). What lovely memories. The entire week was magical.

Thanks for prompting me to revisit these memories. You and Grandma are the best!

Love,kelly.

(What a great time Jean and I had, in addition to what the grandchildren experienced.)

Phoenix Trip

When did we go to Phoenix the first time?

Our son Jim says it was 1962. I have no reason to doubt that. That would make him 15; John 12 and Martha 8, at that time.

My sister and her family moved to Phoenix in about 1957 or 1958, due to the health of their youngest son, Steven. Their business was basically in the summer, since they made and sold Salt Water Taffy at fairs - principally in Ohio, Indiana, Michigan and Illinois. They had also developed an Antique business in Phoenix and Los Angeles, specializing in glass ware.

Sadly, Stevie’s disease overtook him at about age 4 or 5. Their other son, Damon, developed Leukemia, and he also passed away, but at age 10, in 1960. Thus, our children were no longer able to enjoy their cousins when we went there in 1962.

I had a friend in Chicago who had connections with a firm that delivered cars to various places - mostly other states. I was told that there was a large station wagon to be delivered to Phoenix, and if we would drive it, there would be no cost to us. We took it.

We drove straight through, with Jean and me alternating driving. Jim remembers that it took us 40 hours one way, and 44 the other. Jim’s memory is better than mine, so we’ll go with that.

We basically followed Route 66 (before the Interstates) toward the southwest, going through St. Louis, Springfield, Tulsa, Oklahoma City, Shamrock, Tulsa, Amarillo, Tucumcari, Santa Rosa and Albuquerque. My memory tells me that we must have left Route 66 after that , and headed southwest. About 150 miles from Albuquerque was a little town at the base of the Rocky Mountains, called Pie Town, AZ. We ate breakfast at the Pie Town Café.

The Internet says that Pie Town is on the Continental Divide, which would be at the TOP of the Rockies, so my memory must be a little faulty there. The Internet says the town is at the 8,000 feet sea level. So, my memory IS faulty. (Wonder of wonders!)

Except……. maybe Pie Town was on the Continental Divide, but the Pie Town Café was at the bottom? Can’t say.

Anyway, we have a picture somewhere, showing the 5 of us eating breakfast there.

We went through Globe and Show Low in AZ, and down into the Salt River Canyon. (Today, US 90 bridges across the canyon, but in 1962, WE went down into it, and up the other side.) Scary.

I remember we drove through Show Low, Arizona awhile after dawn. A wonder that we had not seen before, was tumble weeds - just running across the field like they had wheels. From there, a short drive through Globe and into Phoenix.

I wouldn’t have remembered the time of year we were there, except I do remember a small Christmas tree on a picnic table in the desert.

Stanley and Miriam took us on a tour of Phoenix, and the general area. The desert we went to, was not very far from the city. They DO talk about Phoenix “rising from the desert”. Many years ago, that’s what it did - being incorporated in 1881.

Not far from their house in North Phoenix was a “quasi-ranch”, I suppose it would be. Anyway, they rented horses, and our three kids rented some, and rode around the ranch. Ten gallon hats were provided.

Since Stanley and Miriam lived in, basically, North Phoenix, we could see a sign for a restaurant way up on the mountain called, “Cloud Nine”. A lighted sign showed its location at night. I don’t think we ever went there.

Looking out of their east window early in the morning was an “experience”. There were mountains all around them, but the ones toward the east were several miles away, and the sun “came over the mountain”. A beautiful sight.

A feature in and around Phoenix that one would not want to miss was the ubiquity of “cacti” (smart aleck pronunciation of the plural of “cactus”). The one that we remember was the “saguaro” cactus. There was another, called, “Barrel Cactus”. It WAS rather “barrel like”, and we brought one of them home. We kept it quite awhile, after Jean put it in a large heavy plastic, round container. We learned about the types of cactus in the book, “What Kinda Cactus Izzat?”.

There was the Barrel Cactus; Beavertail; Cholla; Claret Cup Cactus; Fishhook; Hedgehog Cactus; Ocotillo; Organ Pipe Cactus; Pincushion Cactus; Prickly Pear Cactus; Saguaro Cactus; Totem Pole; and Cactus Flowers. I don’t think we saw all of them. We found most of them south of Phoenix, in the desert.

One of the more interesting things to us was a side trip to Scottsdale, a suburb east of Phoenix. It featured what we had never seen before - a Strip Mall. I don’t think they called it that then, but it’s what it would be called today. The stores were fascinating.

A feature of Arizona that I can’t forget is the small town of Sedona, a couple hours or so north of Phoenix. I apologize for mentioning it with the 1962 trip - since we didn’t go there then - but I was so fascinated with it that I just had to mention it. Jean and I went there with Miriam, after Stanley had passed away.

A major feature of the Sedona area is the mountains and rock formations on all sides - mostly in the distance. Beautiful scenery - challenged only by those in the Badlands of South Dakota.

I mentioned that we were there over Christmas. For lunch that day, we went out into the desert, and there was a “picnic table”, with a 2 foot tall Christmas Tree on the top of it. That’s where we ate. We then explored some of the desert.

Our son Jim mentioned one of the highlights to him was the Saddleback Mountain. It seems to me that was farther north than the Powells, but from a distance, one could see why it was called “Saddleback”. Looked just like the back of a horse, without a saddle.

I just now remembered how we were struck with the different types of houses there. No two stories. No “ranch houses”. Just mostly “adobe” type, and all on one floor. Phoenix “aficionados” will probably tell me that there were also some “regular” houses also, but I’m going on my memory of what we saw.

Not far from there was the “ranch/compound” of Senator Barry Goldwater, a noted legislator of the time. (Before he ran for President.)

Our return home was NOT as inexpensive as the trip out, since we had to rent a car to return. Jim thinks we took more “main highways” back than we did in going to Phoenix.

I’ve run out of memories about this right now, so I’ve asked Jim and John to come up with some more. If time requires me to post this before they remember something, I’ll edit this and include that.

The Smokies

What does the word, “Smokies” remind you of? Cigars? Cigarettes? Or, I’d hope, the “Great Smoky Mountains”

While riding to Columbus a couple weeks ago with our grandson Jimmy and his friend, Mary, he asked me whether I was going to write a posting for my blog about our “years ago trip” to the Smokies.

“Oh”, I said. “I’ll have to write that down”.

And I did!

However, first I need to apologize for calling him “Jimmy”. After all, he’s going to be 38 this June! Do I want to be still called “Mynie”? Now, in my defense, his first cousin Bobby (they were born two days apart), WANTS to be called “Bobby”. So, it’s just too easy to call him “Jimmy”. But I shouldn’t. He never complains about it, though. His dad calls him “Junior”, for that’s what he is.

Oh…….Smokies!

In the summer of 1983 (the date suggested below by Jimmy, Kelly and Kenny), Jean and I took 3 of our grandchildren on a vacation trip to The Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee.

We traveled south on I 75 (only partially completed then) through Cincinnati in Ohio, Lexington in Kentucky, and Knoxville, Maryville, Sevierville, Pigeon Forge, Gatlinburg and the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee. As well as the Indian community of Cherokee in North Carolina.

The contingent included: Jean Maddex and Mike Maddex - grandparents. Jimmy Maddex, Kenny Maddex and Kelly Smith - the grandchildren. (Jodi and Sherilyn were less than 2 years old. And Bobby and Molly lived in the Cleveland area.)

I just got an e-mail from Kelly:

I think the year was 83-85. I don't remember exactly.

The one thing I do remember is riding in the back of your station wagon. In the eighties is was okay to ride "in the back" without seatbelts. Those were fun times. Riding, playing games, singing songs. On this trip, I learned to sing "99 bottles of "pop" on the wall". "Pop" because you said singing about "beer" on the wall was inappropriate. I agree. :)

I also learned to sing "On top of Spaghetti, all covered with cheese. I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed. It rolled off the".....and on and on.

I can picture an image of a picture with Jimmy, Kenny and I standing on a little wooden bridge. I'll look for the pic. (In Cherokee, NC.)

That's all I can pinpoint, but I am anxious to hear what you guys remember. Maybe it will strike my memory.

Maybe Jimmy or Kenny can remember more.

Here’s what Jimmy had to say by e-mail:

Well, I remember some of the car games, swimming at the motels, hiking up a mountain to see the view from a tourist lookout point. I remember seeing bears at this type of holding farm. Had these huge pits to see black and brown bears and a huge grizzly.

In one town (Cherokee)we went to see a lot of things with indians like a leather shop, an attraction to see some snakes and lizards. I believe it was 1983 that summer, because we moved out of our house in Orland Park and Mom and Dad looked for a place to live and that’s when we stayed with you and grandma for a whole month.

Here’s what Kenny had to say:

Hi Grandpa,
Ok, So I'm trying to remember what I know about the trip to the Smoky Mountains. I remember I was 7 or 8 years old. Kelly and I giggled about everything. We thought Chattanooga was the funniest word. We would play the game "I spy" with license plates, road signs, bill boards and things with colors. I remember going in this general store in Tennessee with a wood carved indian standing in front and the store smelled very strong of leather. Grandma bought me a leather coin wallet made by hand that said the Smoky Mountains on it. We took pictures infront of the wooden Indian.

(Again, it was Cherokee, NC.)

I remember us going to this place where we stood in the center of 3 states maybe one more South Carolina, North Carolina, and Tennessee. When I was that young, I thought that was the coolest thing ever.

Note: I think Kenny is talking about the 3 states of Kentucky, Tennessee and West Virginia. I had forgotten that we went to Kenova on that trip.

Or, at Cumberland Gap for Kentucky, Virginia and Tennessee. Hard to remember which.

I actually don't remember that much about what we did but I do remember it was a long trip and I had a great time. When I think about it. Most of what I remember was spending our time in the car. I know at that age I was obsessed with water because I loved swimming and water slides. Every time we drove by any body of water I would scream "WATER"...

I remember THAT myself!

I remember you had a car phone that would make the car horn beep if someone was calling. That also was the coolest thing because I didn't know anyone with a car phone, except my grandpa.

Note: I discuss that car phone in my posting: “Cell Phones”.

Kelly and I were the greatest of friends on that trip. I remember we would make each other laugh at the silliest things like making faces. One thing I must say though is that it brought me closer to my grandparents than I had ever been. I had a very fun time. It wasn't what we did that made it fun or great, it was the company. We were all together. We were on an adventure.

Grandpa, thanks so much for taking us on that trip. I still talk about how beautiful the Smoky Mountains are today. I even told a friend of mine who moved to Tennessee, that when I come visit her we should go to the Smoky Mountains.

I miss that time but will always remember how great you and Grandma were with us and how that road trip impacted our lives. I hope what I've said helps. I was so young so some parts are harder to remember. If I remember anything else, I'll let you know. You can call me anytime, I love hearing from you. Hopefully I can come see you soon.

I love ya Grandpa, love, Ken

Kenny later sent another note:

I'm pretty sure now it was 1983... Same year Sherilyn was born. I was 9 years old. I remember also the picture Kelly was talking about of us on a bridge. After reading what they said, it’s becoming more clear. The look- out Jimmy is speaking of, was the place where we could see 3 or more states. I remember we did sing bottles of pop on the wall too as Kelly said lol...

Note: The bridge they have talked about was a suspension walking bridge of about 30 feet, at Cherokee, NC.

Jimmy was right. We went to stay with you guys for a month during that time and my mom and Dad were looking for a place for us to stay in Park Forest. I hope that helps.

Then, another e-mail from Kelly:

Kenny and I were best friends for that trip, as well as many other times. We were some giggly gigglers.

And Jim"my" will always be Jim"my" to me.

Thanks for sharing the e-mails from Jimmy and Kenny. It made the memories that much more real.

This was a great idea to spark some memories of the "good ol' days"

Love.

Pretty good memory for 26 years ago, right?

Regarding the back of the station wagon, one thing that Jimmy mentioned the other day was the portable TV that I got from somewhere, that would plug into the car’s cigarette lighter - and work. When he saw the TV working in the car, Jimmy said, “Man! This is livin’.”

Actually, I got more than I thought I would - from the memory of all 4 of us.

Better stop now!

(Thanks to Jimmy, Kenny and Kelly for their memories.)

Bragging Parents

Did reading the above title strike a “chord” in your mind? Or, do you NOT know of any parents who are so “obsessively” proud of their offspring(s) that they “brag” about them to everyone ?

I have some experience in this area.

In fact, if I DON’T have an “experience” of some subject, I just don’t write about it - at least not on this blog. Sharing my experiences is what this is all about!

Aside: I’ve just had a “secular epiphany” again:

I started a new book by the Artist and Author, Thomas Kinkade. This is the fourth one of his that I’ve picked up, and aside from the fact that I have read them in an “improper order” - that is, they seem to be continued stories - I am really enjoying this author. He was recommended to me by our daughter-in-law, Joyce, and her mother Charlotte.

Here’s the deal: In this book, while remarking about the writing of a “journal”, reference is made to “free association” writing. I’d never heard that phrase before, so I looked it up in my Encarta World English Dictionary. The definition, it seems to me, ACCURATELY describes MY writing on this blog:

Free Association:

the spontaneous and uncensored expression of thoughts or ideas, in which each one is allowed to lead to or suggest the next.

Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2005 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?!? I can’t think of a better description of what I’ve been writing on this blog these months.

Back to “Bragging Parents”.

As I’ve thought about this subject since last night, I’ve remembered two or three instances that would qualify for this posting. Previous postings tell me that as I begin to write, OTHER experiences will probably “raise their ugly heads”.

Note: In the interest of “full disclosure”, I have to admit that this subject - along with others in the same way - just came to me after retiring last night. When that happens, I jot down the subject on my Word Processor; my BlackBerry; or just on a piece of paper; if the computer is not available. At my age, I can’t just expect my recall to bring it up again at a propitious moment.

MANY thoughts soar through my mind all the time - not the least of which is as the result of a book that I am reading at that time. I think I previously related that I read at least 3 books a week from the Library - in addition to the Bible, and an occasional book from the “library” here at The Grand Court.

As most of us experience, our minds are constantly working, analyzing, praying, thinking wholesome thoughts (or UN-wholesome) , and otherwise wander. Doesn’t yours?

Oh well, the basic subject of this posting is “bragging” - specifically about children or relatives.

What is bragging?

to talk with excessive pride about an achievement or possession

Excessive pride?

feeling of superiority: a haughty attitude shown by somebody who believes, often unjustifiably, that he or she is better than others

Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2005 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

Here are some examples, that I’m aware of:

The father of a classmate of mine, throughout the small town I lived in, was known as a “braggart” - about his son. He was always talking to anyone who would listen, about “my boy John”. It got to be embarrassing - not only to him, but also to those who listened. This went on all through the son’s experience in World War II - and beyond. Fortunately, much of the time, “John” was away in the Army, and didn’t suffer any embarrassment because of it.

A little closer to home - during the last couple years of my father’s life, he lived with Jean and me. His name was “Walter”.

He was enthralled about the fact that I was in charge of WEEC, the Christian station in Springfield. While with us, he joined us as we went to Sunday Church services, as well as some Christian concerts in our area.

Though there were certainly other instances of what I’ve been talking about, I think, the one I most remember was when Peggy Bush - a local singer heard on WEEC - was having a concert at her local church in Bellefontaine. Dad went along with Jean and me to the concert. At an intermission, we left our seats near the front, and went toward the door. Dad went along, and I overheard him say to someone, “Don’t they know that Mike Maddex is here?” (Horror of horrors to him, I had NOT been introduced!)

I was chagrined, and later called him on it.

So much for my hope that my modesty would be realized by everyone.

And, here are three “painful” memories of MINE on this subject:

Our son Jim sings in different choirs and choral groups. Last December, he sang with the local group that performed with the Springfield Symphony Orchestra. He contacted me in Northwest Indiana, and said he wanted me to come to the concert. We both like music.

I arranged to take the Bus to Toledo, transferring in 2 ½ hours to a bus for Dayton, where he picked me up. That was on a Friday night. There was a kind of “dress rehearsal” with the full Symphony on Saturday, with the concert being Sunday night.

I went with him to the rehearsal, and along with his family, for the Sunday concert. Looking back, I see that I used every opportunity I could to tell people that our son sang in that choir. Even now telling it, I feel like I’m bragging - and I guess I am. I’ve done it before as well.

There’s more.

Our daughter Martha and her family lived in South Charleston. Part of that community’s “lore” was, and is, the annual show put on at the South Charleston Opera House by local amateur “thespians”. Her husband, Rick, has participated in that “show” for years. We attended several of them.

One year, Martha took part in the show - kind of an “amateur hour” - so to speak. Besides some speaking parts, she sang two songs.

At the intermission after Martha’s songs, being right down in the second row, I turned to Don Bishop, a retired banker from Springfield, and said “That singer, Martha, is our daughter.” (Glory be! Did it really happen?) Ask my daughter-in-law Tonya, because she said, “Sit down, Walter!” - of course, referring to my dad who had done the same thing some years before, about me. I was again, “chagrined”. This time at myself.

There are maybe some more of these episodes I could relate, like one telling of my “bragging” about our son John’s description of his Christian Journey, posted on his daughter’s blog: “Close to Home”.

(Just this week!)

I wrote on Molly’s Blog, “I was thrilled with the interview my son, John, (your dad) gave on this program. His explanations were SO clear.”

Another thing I said was, “I’m proud to be a progenitor of your whole family…..”

Whew!

Parental Bragging!


Now, I’m sorry. I’ve got to stop. If you’ll forgive me, I’ve got to do something about this “red face”, so I think I’ll end this right here.

Agreed?

(You may fill-in your own Scripture references here, about my braggadocio, and other sinful actions. I hope I don’t feel like any more confessions in the future. Have mercy!)

Spring

Can you think of a better subject to write about than “spring”?

As usual, right now, I don’t have the slightest idea what I’m going to write, but “spring” seemed an ideal subject - since yesterday, for the first time this year, I turned on the Air Conditioning. It was about 80, and I expect it to reach that today.

Actually, what really started me thinking about this subject was a couple sparrows. Yes, I DO have them in my back yard. And, actually, inside my “screened-in” patio.

That’s what I want to comment on.

Maybe two weeks ago, I opened up the vertical shutters on my back sliding door, and inside the patio I could see two sparrows - flitting about, hitting the screen, as if they were trying to escape.

They were, actually.

They somehow got inside the patio, then thinking they could leave when they wanted to, they flew against the screen, since that appeared to be the way to “fly away”.

“No way, Jose”!

The screen was not about to “open up” and let them escape. So, they just kept fluttering around, trying to do so.

I didn’t have to wonder long as to how they got in. I looked at the screen door, and saw part of the bottom panel missing - and actually, lying outside the door on the ground. Old age had taken over the door. (It happens in the best of families!) Why the birds kinda “walked into” the patio, I’ll never know. They certainly didn’t “fly in”.

When it appeared that they were NOT going to try to leave by the same way they came in, but were rather “banging” against the screen to try to leave, I opened the sliding glass door, and entered the patio. Then, I opened wide the outside door.

That didn’t seem to please the birds at all. (Surely they knew that I was going to try to “release” them, didn‘t they?)

The “flitting” and “flurrying” rather intensified, and they seemed “scared”. They didn’t know that I was their savior, rather than their demon. They just tried to get away from me.

While they were flitting around, I slowly circled around to the side away from the door, and gradually moved toward it - with the birds on the “door side” of the patio. They merely moved farther toward the “door side”, and tried to flitter out the screen there, seemingly NOT seeing that the door was wide open.

The closer I got to them, the closer they got to the open door, and suddenly, one of them found it, and flew right out the opening to freedom. His/her mate - if that WAS the relationship - was still flitting around, trying to escape the screen, when FINALLY, even that one found the opening and “flew away”.

Neither of them looked back, nor did they say “Thanks”. They were “free”, and flew as far away as their wings would take them.

I was glad for that, and thanked the Lord for their release.

I called Jeff, the maintenance man here at The Grand Court, and asked him to look at my screen door.

“You need a new door”, he said.

“What gave you the first clue, Jeff?”

Naw……….I didn’t say that.

“You’ll never believe how many of these screen doors I’ve had to replace since I’ve been here”, he said. “I’ll order one in for you, then paint it before hanging it”. That sounded good to me. (We now have 72 residents here, I’m told, so that indicates a lot of screen doors.)

The “bird saga” was not over, actually.

One other time, a single sparrow got caught, and that episode ended as did the first.

Another sign of spring is the “whirring” of power lawn mowers. Since this is a pretty large building and grounds, we hear that whirring pretty regularly. I like the sound, actually, since it does remind me of “spring”.

Last week, I was sitting here in my apartment, right near the sliding glass door, reading. Everything was quiet, and I was enjoying another of Thomas Kinkade’s books, until the quiet was disturbed by a “weed wacker” outside the patio. The guy was “trimming” around the patio, preparing for the power mowers to “whiz by”. They DO whiz, by the way. They go real fast one way, then, seemingly without slowing down, they turn right around to go the other way.

Very enjoyable. Didn’t bother my reading at all. I just kept right on, following the story of the small town Mayor, Emily Warwick; her sister Jessica (who eventually marries the town builder after an “on again-off again” romance being stifled by the Warwick dowager mother, Lillian); and, the “mystery” character, Sara Franklin, who wants to reveal to Emily that she is her “long-lost” daughter that she gave up for adoption 20 some years ago.

Though I haven’t read ALL of the series of books about “Cape Light” yet, (the quiet little seaside community about an hour north of Boston), it does appear that “all goes well” with these lives, though not always what you would expect.

Are you intrigued? Or angry that I “upset the apple cart” by revealing some of the plot lines?

Whichever, if you like good, clean stories, you might check out the Cape Light series - starting with the title “Cape Light”, in order to try to follow the series properly. The Library has them.

In about fifteen minutes, we’re having a “Town Hall Meeting” here, consisting of the Management, along with a 5-member Resident Council, and any residents who want to attend. The residents are encouraged to comment on their stay in this facility. The Council is elected by them.

After that meeting a “walk around the grounds” is planned, further participating in “Spring”.

I may comment after that.

Later: The Town Hall Meeting was uneventful - at least as far as problems are concerned. There was a suggestion that if we are taking liquids from the Dining Room to our apartments, we should be careful to not spill any. It costs $ 300 to clean a hall way.

Future projects were mentioned, including a Mystery Tour; a Dayton Dragons Baseball Game; several shopping trips to area stores; a Kite Flying experience at the Reservoir; and the regular visits to Doctors, Department Stores and Banks that the Grand Court bus will take us to, if we don’t have other transportation. Smart aleck me, I asked where the Mystery Tour was going to. Some, not realizing the “irony” of my comment, looked as though I were stupid. Some laughed, however.

Much praise was offered to the Staff here - from the residents. Especially noted was the quality of the food. And, the nursing facility.

The ending of the meeting was rather staggered, so only 4 of us took the “walking tour” of the parking lot - one of them being the Activities Director. Though I went around the parking lot twice, my back began bothering me, and I stopped. I MAY be the fastest walking resident, but my back hinders long walking. I have walked to K Mart close by 3 times, but my back hurts when I walk very far. I’ve been trying to improve on that by walking more frequently, but I’m not satisfied with the results. I’m not sure what else to do to help.

Wonderful spring day for walking!

Here’s another comment that might indicate that I am stupid: In June, I hope to take another trip to Florida to visit our Granddaughter and her family. “In June?”, you say. Sure. Then, Kelly will not be helping with the lunches at her kids’ school, and the “kids” will be out of school. More time to be with them. I think Spring will definitely be over by then, however.

So much for Spring!