50 Days of Remembering 50 years Day #25

In the News

I feel like over the years we have been in newspapers more often than is average. I am taking the easy way out here and just letting these articles speak for themselves. I am sure that I have more and will share them when I find them. 

I will admit that there is one of George and a couple of me that is pre-knowing each other, but I decided to include them. I have also included some articles of relatives. I know there are several more, at least. 

These are just in random order.

Okay, this one my dearest sister friend, Kathy, can be seen but not me sitting next to her. 

It's funny that I saved this one, Kathy and I are way in the back watching the Polar Plunge in Winsted.

I'm sure there are even more!

"For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works."

Ephesians 2:10

50 Days of Remembering 50 Years Day #24

Parties

Growing up my parents always made sure that I had great birthday parties with games and prizes and food. I carried on their tradition into our new lives.

Our first adult party was a Halloween party. It was a year after we were married. We were living on Stony Hill--that was the name of our first homestead (named by the previous owners who built the house). It was a 450-foot-long driveway and people parked at the bottom of the hill and walked up. We always remember Joe Sverni, one of our groomsmen from the wedding, rented a gorilla outfit and he hid halfway up the driveway behind a tree and scared the heck out of the people walking up! They were all such good sports for that party--a silly scavenger hunt ending with singing something like "OwagooseIam" around a potty chair (try to say it) and having to retrieve the final thing from the potty chair. (it was dark outside, but it was a hot dog.) We were just big kids, I guess. We had silly games--feeding each pudding with a spoon but blindfolded; racing to eat donuts hanging from strings--no hands allowed. I think everyone had a good time. Everyone came in costumes and all participated in everything.

Thus was the beginning. Most of our parties afterwards were children's birthday parties every year. It took weeks to plan the activities and games and goodies and goody bags too. Themes were baseball, dinosaurs and even a theatrical party with an "Academy" award. 

George and I have thrown several milestone birthday parties for each other. He has not been able to surprise me. It's pretty hard to surprise me. I am pretty observant about what's going on. I do appreciate, though, that he did take the initiative. 

I have put a push on me with these daily deadlines for this blog and can't easily find the photos that I would like to include, but in the future, I will try to add some to have for our memories in these posts.

"This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it." 

Psalm 118:24

 

50 Days of Remembering 50 Years Day #23

Collections

George's mother collected spoons and salt and pepper shakers. My Mom collected elephants, Beanie Babies and postcards. My Aunt collected Hummels. My Grandmother collected knickknack shoes or slippers. It was just a thing that evolved. Someone would declare something they liked and everyone would often give that person that themed gift at Christmas or birthday. And such collections grew and grew.

My Mom was the fulfiller of collections. If you said you liked a theme, she would forever grow your collection. For me it was lighthouses. I have a pretty great collection of lighthouses--tiny ones and ones that are electric and light up. I had a lighthouse cookie jar and lighthouse dishes. 

It was easy for us to find a souvenir spoon wherever we went for George's mother. I don't know how it started but George had gotten probably a handful of key chains and it was decided he was collecting them. He did put them on a display board and amassed quite a few. That was another easy gift to find. 

Ben collected nutcrackers for a while and Tiffany fancy dolls. Ben was also into baseball cards and other cards and some comic books. Tiffany's biggest collection was these adorable little miniature figures. We thought they had been lost in our basement or attic but a few years ago I found them and happily gave them all back to her one Easter. 

I don't know how many people still collect things of a particular theme. Of course, we have had to tell everyone "No more!". George gave away most of his collection to another collector. I've halted the growth of mine, but have not yet started purging, but after going through my mother's elephants, I probably should do that. Oh, the fun my family is going to have going through the things I save. I think the first thing I saved was paper--yes, paper. I had a paper drawer in my dresser and used scrap paper for writing. I didn't want to be without something to write on. 

I have always had a fascination and can't resist a good rock--one with character. And of course, there are my couple of jars of sea glass--all the pieces were hunted down and captured--a prize from hours of walking the beach. Now I have my Mom's sea glass too. Oh, and I collected stamps from when I was a child--foreshadowing my future postal job? 

George doesn't really collect much else, unless tools and screws and things like that count. He does have a small classic model car collection that my parents helped him with, but then he said, "no more". He has a perfect little display. 

I don't know what makes some of us have that inner drive to save. Why am I a collector (don't call me a hoarder!)? Maybe optimistic people see the potential in everything--like my paper collection, as a child and now other things for craft supplies for the grandkids, or there are other things like George's tools and screws and things that can save us from buying more in the future. Lighthouses are a saving beacon reminding me of Jesus being the light of the world. I like what they represent. Photographs deliver precious memories. Rocks and sea glass are found treasures. I feel like I "earned" them. I have justifications for everything. I still maintain people who collect are optimistic.  

Yes, we have collections. I know we can't take it with us, but it's a hobby and I think it releases dopamine and makes us feel good. I know the minimalists don't understand but I do know it's an internal thing and I also know, this is just an earthly pleasure or curse, whichever way you look at it.  

"But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and rust do not destroy..."

Matthew 6:20

50 Days of Remembering 50 Years day #22

Visting Relatives 

My parents' family were from Salem, NH and Lawrence, MA--quite close to each other. So, at least a couple times of year we made a long day trip, over 2 hours up to spend a day visiting both of my parents' sides of the family. They usually came down to see us once a year too. On Dad's side of the family we visited my grandparents and Uncle Joe, who lived with them. Sometimes we would see other Aunts but typically it was these three. I recently found this newspaper article of my grandparents when they celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary, ironically. They used to put these things in local newspapers.

They lived in a small house in Salem, NH. My parents often brought Kentucky Fried Chicken takeout to them. As soon as the meal was done, the table was cleared and the games of setback began. They were serious card players and started me in the game when I was 7 years old. We played as teams and I was often nervous, because I knew they wanted to win. Setback wasn't so bad, but they also played this game called 45's. That game is so confusing, but that was one of their favorites too. I needed a cheat sheet to keep things straight. We did do some visiting too and my Grandmother would bring out her old teddy bear that played a song in French and she would sing along. My grandfather would give kids a ride in a wagon he attached to his riding lawnmower. These simple things became tradition and good memories.

As I've been looking at old memorabilia, I found this note my grandfather had written to my parents but there was an enclosure from my grandfather that said, "jokes for George". It makes me smile to think how he took the time to do this and that it meant that he liked George too. 

On my mother's side we visited her Aunt Helen and Uncle Bill. This visit was usually just talking and catching up. Aunt Helen's place had everything just so and decorated with her Hummels or handmade crafts. Aunt Helen was very blunt, reminding us how much weight we had gained or anything else she wanted to point out. Uncle Bill had a great sense of humor and he would say things to her that only he could get away with. We held our laughter until the ride home.

Of course, visiting relatives was the main reason for our trip, but we always had a couple of sidetrips.

When my mother was still smoking, we would pick up some cigarettes. They were a lot cheaper in New Hampshire. Another "mandatory" stop was Thwaites Market, an English market. We would sometimes get some little meat pies or other foods, but our reason for stopping was for tomato sausage. We would bring a cooler and buy several pounds to put in our freezer--saving one out to enjoy the day after we got home. I have never seen that for sale anywhere else. Fortunately, Thwaites is still open, so if we really get a hankering for tomato sausage, we can take a road trip.

Our other stop was to Granite State Potato Chips. There was a small building that only sold Granite State Potato chips. You could see the potato chips come through a chute and be filled in boxes or, better yet, they sold buckets that you could buy to have it filled and bring them back to re-fill them. We often brought the buckets back from CT (saving them for the trip months later). They didn't sell any fancy flavors or ripples or unsalted--just regular, delicious potato chips always freshly filled in the boxes or buckets while you wait. I was wondering how my memory served me, so I googled and found the buckets used to hold 128 ounces. I knew it was a lot--more than we could finish on the ride home, fortunately, but never lasted the months before we got back again. Sadly, they closed in 2007 after 102 years in Salem but will always be in our memories.

"These stones are to be a memorial...so that when your children ask, 'What do these stones mean?' you can tell them..."

Joshua 4:6-7

50 Days of Remembers 50 Years Day #21

Teamwork

I've mentioned before that there were times when I had to help George with his cleaning accounts and the trash route and the cleanout and sprucing up of the rental units. He helped me a few times with things at the post office--only so much he could legally do there.

At home we pretty much have our own "chores". He would say he gets the outside and I get the inside, but it's not actually true because he is a huge help with the laundry--lugging it up and downstairs to the machines. I happily fold. Over the years I have learned we have different views on how certain things are folded and try to do his stuff his way and my stuff my way. The hardest for me is that being left-handed, how we hang clothes on the coat hangers in different directions. It feels so backward to me when I put his shirts on a hanger, but I do it the way he likes.

He is "allergic" to anything having to do with the kitchen--cooking, cleaning, etc. He claims he had his share of cooking when I used to get home from work at 6 pm. He seems to remember cooking the meals. I remember him heating up what I prepared when I was home on my two-hour lunch break--how I hated a two-hour break and how hard it was to go back to work after that. 

He will grab a vacuum when he sees the need. We have two bathrooms, and he cleans his and I clean mine. He mows and rakes and all those outside things. He always tries to make repairs on his own before calling a professional. He feels so good when he is successful and grumbles when we have to pay someone else to do it.

 Over fifty years, we have put together so many pieces of furniture that needed to be assembled. So many! There are times when we had to undo some steps and backtrack. I usually read the directions and help assemble the parts. I point out the pictures of what should happen. We usually do pretty well together but at times we disagree and have to take a breath to see what is correct.

I think almost worse than assembling furniture, for me, is moving furniture. I foolishly told myself a couple of years ago that my moving furniture days were done. He would have to find someone else to help him. But alas, I guess since he's almost six years older than me, he figures if he can do it, then I can. I hate carrying and moving furniture. It's not just the lifting and carrying, but it's another test of communication. He has it in his mind which way we should be moving and I have to remind him, I don't know what he's thinking. 

It's pretty clear to last fifty years, there has had to be a lot of teamwork. Teamwork can be doing things separately or together. I hear some women won't pump their own gas. I'm no woman's libber, but I pump my own gas. Sure, I'd love to be waited on and have him do all, but I don't expect it. Though, I do always ask him for spider relocation. Likewise, he is a pretty strong guy when he gets sick and doesn't expect me to wait on him, yes, I will get him some soup or a drink, but he doesn't ask for much when he is sick. 

I plan the vacation itinerary, after the main destination is chosen and he usually drives. We discuss charitable giving. Life has us continually making decisions together. Some choices or chores are not easy. 

For those of you who think after fifty years of teamwork, decision making and just living together for that long, that things must be easy, a well-oiled machine. Of course, we know each others quirks or how the other thinks, and know each other very well, but marriage is always give and take and working your way through the storms--if you aren't rowing toward the same direction, you won't get far. Be faithful, find the like-minded parts never sweat all the small stuff and plug on working together being the best team you can be. 

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up."

Ecclesiastes 4:9,10

50 Days of Remembering 50 Years #20

Running

Running was a big part of our lives in the 90's. George took it up and it was an addiction. He went out running every morning before most of us were up. He couldn't miss a day. I remember Christmas morning when the kids woke up and he was out running, I had to hold them off from opening their presents until he got back and took a quick shower. 

George also like competing in races. He entered short ones 5K-10K to the mother of all races, a marathon in Rhode Island. He took a while to recover from the marathon. He placed a number of times in his age category. 

Now, as I previously posted about "being there", I was there for all his races. Now was I happily there? Often not really to be truthful. I think there is nothing more boring than watching a road race. You cheer them on at the beginning and then you just hang around for half an hour or more to see them come over the finish line. There weren't seats for the spectators to sit on. I would have thought that I could have brought a book to read, but I really don't remember what I did those times. 

The most "annoying" one for the family, well, other than holding back the kids at Christmas, was the Manchester Thanksgiving Day Road Race. It's pretty hard to cook a turkey when you are attending a race. My family was always used to an early dinner--1 pm was late for them. That year my Mom had to cook and it was a little annoying to not know what time we would arrive. As someone who often cooks for others, I so get that. 

Now I don't like to sound like a bitter old wife. I am truly glad he had this activity that he enjoyed and I know he missed it for many years when he had to stop. I now have arthritis and I didn't run, but I really wonder if running was partly responsible for his knee problems. They say "motion is lotion" but I think too much of anything, even exercise, is not good. Of course, this woman who doesn't like exercising is going to say that!

Our kids each did one race with him. Both, in separate years, participated in the Norfolk 5 Mile Road Race (in CT). Tiffany was around 10, I will have to verify her age. Tiffany came in last, but it came with a "reward". Seth Moseley was a famous journalist that lived in Norfolk at the time. He had covered the Lindbergh baby kidnapping and the Hindenburg disaster. He would traditionally interview the last-place finisher for the Norfolk Road Race. I do have Tiffany's newspaper interview that I will at some point attach to here, but for now I have to get these daily memories out. Tiffany did try running later in life and did run another race, I believe.

Ben was around 6 when he ran the Norfolk Road Race with his Dad. I don't remember how he placed. I know it was at the end of the pack, but he didn't get an interview. Ben did not take up running or race again.

I was always the cheerleader--smiling and cheering at the beginning and end--and grumpy in the middle. Not really. I'm sure I was reading or talking to someone. I am glad he did something he loved.

"I have fought the food fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." 

2 Timothy 4:7

50 Days of Remembering 50 years Day #19

Cars

Technically I am writing this on day #20 because yesterday I was stranded for over 4 hours due to a car breakdown. Over 3 hours of it was waiting for the promised tow truck. I was upset that I didn't have any reading material in my car and I had just run out to give someone something and was going to go right back home to finish a project I started that was spread out on the kitchen table. I could have finished it yesterday, but it's still spread out and I have a full day of appointments today. 

Yesterday was a huge test of patience. I am a pretty patient person, but when you are tested and the anxiety keeps building and building, there is a breaking point.

So, today I am reminded that in over fifty years we have had our share of car issues, and some have been historic. Looking back makes yesterday not so bad. I could make this a countdown of the top 10 worst car memories.

One of the worst times was when both cars were out of commission on Christmas Eve. I really don't remember how long we were without. I just know we were in Norfolk and I remember George being outside with someone working on one car. I remember having to change our Christmas plans.

Tiffany had two nightmares. One she was on the Mass. Pike when she had a flat tire. AAA would not go to change a tire on the highway because it was too dangerous. So, of course, George had to. In retrospect, perhaps we could have called a policeman to block him while he changed it. 

Her other one was driving home from Messiah College in Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving. Her car broke down and the good news was that she found a garage who would work on it to get her home for Thanksgiving (I really think we should have sent them goodies or something for their kindness, but we didn't). Poor Tiffany had to stay in a motel by herself for the first time. She could write a story about this, I'm sure.

I will not begin to go into the car horror stories with Ben. I want to forget those.

Before kids, we had a Datsun XL, the only car we bought brand new (and never will do that again). At some point it needed a new engine. We had one put in and the garage put in the wrong size! That ended in a lawsuit. 

I truly think the number one worst car nightmare for me, was when we were getting ready to take the kids on vacation to Pennsylvania. We planned to show them some of our favorite sites. I planned car games and snacks (the journey is part of the vacation fun--or so I tried to make it that way). We put on a roof rack and packed it all full and secured it. We all piled into the car and when George went to start it, it wouldn't start. Talk about disappointment. 

We had to unpack everything, find a garage and be at their time schedule mercy. Of course, we were using vacation time and couldn't postpone our vacation and didn't want the kids to miss out. I scrambled around and found a resort in Moodus, CT that had an inground pool, a mess hall for meals, crafts and activities. I remember the four of us square dancing together, but sadly the kids don't remember. We took them to an electric plant for a tour down there and free Louey the Lightning Bug merchandise. It wasn't a big get away, but at least we did get away for a few days. But imagine a car all packed for a great vacation and having to unpack everything and the disappointment.

For me a car is something to get me from here to there. We had a Corvair convertible for a short while. I really don't care for convertibles. I'm afraid I'll lose something blowing away. My first car, my Chevy II Nova was my baby. I was so sad when we had to sell it due to rusting floor. The person buying it was going to take it to California. I wonder if Benjamin Blue made it. My son says, "So I was named after a car!"

George's first car was a VW bug and he didn't have that long before he rolled it and that was that.

We have had a lot of cars over 50 years. I think our favorite was our Hyundai Sonata. It was the most loyal car ever!

George's dream car would be a Checker. Mine? Like I said, get me from here to there but I do like my current Nissan Rogue that I "accidently" got. With three car seats in the back, it is my Grammy mobile--well for the littles. I have to switch cars when I get the older ones. 

Cars, sometimes exasperating but a blessing and we can't live without them.

"Consider it pure joy...when you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance...so that you may be mature and complete." 

James 1:2-4