As we get older, friends seem like family and we lose some dear ones along the way, letting us know we might go next. But when it comes to the holidays we can be childlike . (You can probably remember a special gift or two you got as a kid) My friends don’t have a lot of money so some of the gifts this year were a bit strange. Six of us met for our annual gift exchange. But we took the gifts home without opening them, because we had all had lunch together and time was limited. We also got carried away with the holiday gift giving. It took me two trips to carry it all to the car. I’m not even sure what some items are for but it was still fun to unwrap and pull out colorful tissue from gift bags revealing these things:

-A plugin snowflake shaped room deodorizer pine or peppermint scented (some assembly required.)

-Friends spoon with cute poem engraved (not for use with food or beverages.)

-Bar of goat milk soap.

-Dog gift catalog with stickers.

-Fifteen individually wrapped pretzels from Pennsylvania which are crunchy and delicious.

– A 2 foot long hand-sewn hanging kitchen piece made of fabric, shaped like a house with a floppy mini-wreath sewn on the door of the house. It has a big pocket on the lower half and two loops on the top suitable for hanging up…somewhere.

-A stick with a cute little gnome at the end.

-Gift cards.

As I opened each gift and card, I kept wondering where I would put these things. The giftcards were the best because then I could go buy what I want, especially the giftcards to a coffee shop. And of course there were also the pieces of jewelry given. You can always put those in your jewelry box, never to remember who gave them to you, or when to wear them. I don’t even want to bring up necklaces getting all tangled up.

My Dad used to say, “It’s the thought that counts.” That kept going through my mind as I looked over the collection of presents. I’m just lucky to have such generous, kind people in my life. It doesn’t matter what they gave me. Their friendship is what counts. They’re probably in turn looking over the gifts I gave them: a mug, kitchen dish towels purchased at a church gift bazaar, candy, and mini scented candles. They’re thinking the same thing I am. What will I do with all these? Do I really need any of this? What were they thinking giving these to me?

It doesn’t matter what you give to others at this time of year because just the giving part is what counts. The friendship is there. There’s love inside each gift. The friends give you meaning at this time of year.

Happy holidays!

There’s this memorable old b and w photo from about 1915 of my young, beautiful, hardworking grandparents: grandpa so young in overalls, thin, tall, with a full head of hair, with his oldest two year old son, Wayne, who is looking like a grumpy toddler grasping onto the pant leg of his Dad’s overalls and petite Grandma wearing a long white two-piece homespun dress, holding baby Ella, my Mom, staring seriously into the camera and wearing her dark hair up, a bit disheveled in the prairie wind and sun, next to her handsome young husband. The flat, seemingly barren, never ending prairie goes rolling out behind them. Also standing next to them is a young gal totally dressed up in opposite style clothing, clashing in her citified hat, suit and manner with the harsh unforgiving plains of South Dakota. To this day we don’t know who she was but Grandma’s parents are next to this unknown woman. They are Perry and Elizabeth Tyrrell visiting from their farm in Iowa. They, too, are dressed up in typical 1900’s style clothes, like what you would wear for a long train trip obviously not ready to work on the farm that day. Perry is politely holding his hat and his wife gently reaches out with a hand touching little Wayne. The contrast between the young farming couple with two small children and the Iowa visitors is stark. This photo reflects a myriad of feelings, family history and questions. I’m captivated seeing it time and time again, never tiring of viewing my strong, loving, hopeful grandparents and the visiting Iowa relatives. They are frozen in time, in history with this photo, yet vibrant and youthful in the hopes for their future.

My family on my mother’s side was brave, capable and ready to take on the adventure and the toil of working on the hard untilled sod of the virgin prairie. My Mom stressed throughout my young days that I came from good people and no matter how rough life gets, I was part of a strong, courageous heritage. That strength was carried within me. I can hear them saying: Don’t let it go, pass it along to your offspring. Keep the spirit alive.

I’m trying to give that to my children and let my three children know that they have the same ancestry and the strong family background especially on my Mom’s side. It’s part of them. It’s in their blood. You can almost grasp it there in these old photos.

Don’t whine or complain that life is too hard. Your great grandparents truly had it rough farming in the early 1900’s in South Dakota, with the fears of WWI in the present and the Dirty Thirties and the Great Depression soon to creep into their future, but they didn’t complain nor give up. They should be an example to us all even in these modern times.

I hope my adult children take after my Mom’s side even though my dad’s family were amazing people also but in a different environment. I keep stressing to my kids to never give up. Keep going. Follow in the deep footsteps of your ancestors. They left some plans for us, some blueprint that life was harsh, but by their example you know you have the power in your heart and your body to follow their previous ideals to get through life. My grandparents did it and did it gracefully.

By Lav, alias Gimmy

Our daughter just had her second baby and we are thrilled beyond thrills. We have two grandchildren to be thankful for now and this one was born on her uncle’s birthday. Our oldest son was here visiting and celebrating his birthday, when we got the good news that his sister had her baby.

A friend texted me that in 2027 our son and our new granddaughter will both celebrate Thanksgiving and their birthdays on the same day. That will be fun. What a lot to be thankful for.

After we heard that our daughter got through labor and delivery, we were relieved. We had been anxious and nervous for the past few weeks worrying about her and we live about 12 hours drive from where they live. I was pacing a lot and eating out of sheer worry. I tried to keep up with her appointments, ultrasounds and health reports yet I didn’t want to bother her too much. Being a mother is like being an automatic worry machine. We pump out things to worry about even when there aren’t any. We worry even when our kids are adults and are having kids of their own.

I had been getting more and more stressed as a mother and grandmother, texting nonstop anyone who was involved in my daughter’s pregnancy which seemed to have gone on for…almost 9 months. Yes, that’s right. I did the math correctly. So to ease my mind, I texted her husband, Sam, a few days before my daughter delivered and asked him to PLEASE, keep us posted when they head to the hospital. I didn’t hear back from him so I checked again on my cellphone. Why wasn’t my son-in-law responding? The answer was on my phone. I had texted my boss, also a Sam, with the same last name initial. I had asked my boss to please notify me immediately if his wife went into labor. I have never met his wife. You can imagine how I felt when I realized my mistake. I re-texted my boss on the spot: “Oops, sorry, wrong Sam!”

Later, at 1:50 am last Saturday, Son-in-law Sam texted to let me know they were headed to the hospital and contractions were 3 minutes apart. Baby girl was born five hours later. Everyone was doing well.

I was relieved, ecstatic and ready to go see our new granddaughter.

I didn’t text my boss the good news. But he will be glad to know his wife isn’t in labor. I hope he understands.

You have hopefully seen the great movie SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE. There’s a comparison here. I know two people who are aimlessly driving all over the country on purpose and they have problems just like the rest of us poor souls. They’re not sleepless and not in Seattle but they are aimless at times ever since they were dealt a problem. This is a bigger problem, however, than probably many of us have, because you see, they’re crooked. They were in a sloping down RV. Yes, they cannot get their house level, their lives are off kilter. They are not on the straight and narrow. But let’s go back and give you the fascinating history on these two.

A few years ago Klip and May had a custom made tiny home manufactured and it was beautiful. They found a country lot in a rural area in a big state somewhere in the USA. They had it set up there after it was built. They were like a young honeymoon couple moving into their brand new home: Thrillingly happy and all set in a custom home with all the amenities . They later had a driveway poured and Klip had a warehouse style garage put on it for his tools, their jeep and the RV camper. It had to be big because his tool collection was humongous plus he had yard equipment: a mower, shovels, rakes, hoes, hose and naturally some power tools. It was his man cave.

There was also a small shed on the new property so May, not wanting to be outdone, had Klip fix it up for her as a she cave. This was a chore. This old shed hadn’t been used in ages. Being meticulous people, believe me, (it takes one to know one and no one knows one like me)- this remodel took several months. After all, it was a shed and it needed to be cleaned, reconstructed with lots of fresh wood, electrical wiring, plumbing, siding, paneling, roofing, paint and help. If you have ever turned a shed into a cave for a woman, you know it isn’t easy. It was small but had possibilities. May was willing to get her cottage comfy and cutely decorated. She was working hard. She had a place for her hats and other collectibles to be displayed

Finally the day came to move in. May wasn’t satisfied though. She wanted the yard to be landscaped and not just with plants. She had the great idea to use rocks, painted rocks. Kind of like the painted desert. Her friends came over for tea and they helped with the rocks. The legacy was being created. The cottage would be a credit to May.

Then something happened. Things clicked into a new gear. I’m not sure if it was in Klip’s mind or May’s. Maybe it was sprouting in both their minds. Maybe the cat, Dolly, used her feline skills and was an undercover psychic. After much discussion, dreaming, analyzing and planning, they decided to sell their tiny house and hit the road. They would live full time as travelers in their RV. I’m not sure what hit them but call it wanderlust or wonderland or Disneyland or AAA. I don’t know.

Now Klip and May travel the country together seeing amazing sights and seeing many friends and relatives living in their long, beautiful RV. They send us all clear crisp pictures of trees, and waterfalls and mountains and lakes and more trees – you get the idea. They have taken many trips but on this latest trip they were beset with a couple mechanical problems. The RV- let’s name her Gladys- had some leveling issues. The hydraulics or something got angry and wouldn’t level with Gladys. Her floor wasn’t even. Klip and May were leaning and it was disconcerting not to mention annoying. They tried to get Gladys repaired and on the straight and level path again but since they were in remote areas, no help was at hand.

To make a long story even longer, Gladys had also been pounded with hail previously so they needed to get the roof repaired. She couldn’t be left with a holey roof. Now that they’ve gotten back to where they started in their hometown, they have a good doctor for Gladys. Let’s hope this time she can be straightened out.

Soon they will be back to normal and planning another adventure with Gladys and their two faithful dogs. I wonder if they ever run across Yram Sicnarf. Talk about crooked. What is she up to? I sure hope they’re on the level now. They could be harboring the sneaky Yram, but we may never know. I’m just glad they’re settling down and not aimless. Do they look normal to you?

Have you ever had trouble recalling a person’s name, especially someone from your past? If you say, “No,” I would say, “You’re telling a fib!”

When we enter our golden year’s, it becomes harder to remember names, and it happens more frequently, at least it does for me. My retired friend, Barbara, and I went out for lunch yesterday and we had an odd experience as we chatted. We had been teachers in the same district and we were gossiping about people in our past: educators like us.

“Remember that principal at my school who got fired? His first name was Arthur and his last name started with a D,” my friend started out.

“Was he the principal many years ago and he didn’t last long?” I prompted. “His last name started with a D?” She replied that he had been at her school a long time ago and yes, his last name maybe started with a D.

“Oh, Arthur Adams. That was his name,”she finally blurted out. “Adams!”

“Well, Adams doesn’t start with a D!” I scolded.

“But it has a D in it!” she emphasized. I had to admit that Adams has a D.

I started reminiscing with her about a speech therapist we had in our school district and I threw in some gossipy snarky comment about her (just to keep the conversation interesting).

“What was her name? Hmmm. Oh, Margaret- something. Last name started with a C,” I said wrinkling my brow like Columbo or Sherlock Holmes trying to solve a mystery.

My friend thought a minute. “Margaret McCall.”

“Right! You remembered. Thank you. You have a great memory. But McCall doesn’t begin with a C.”

“But it has a C in it! In fact it has two C’s!” She had a point.

This went on for quite a long time as one of us remembered a person from our past but couldn’t remember the last name or maybe a first name, and vice versa.

We admitted that we were a good team supplying info on past coworkers’ names, but only getting part of the names. However, with each other’s help-we had supplied the person’s full name. After our lunch break, we went to several shops in my little town and bought a few things to start off our holiday shopping. One of my ex-neighbors ran a cute Christmas shop and we enjoyed looking at all her festive decorations, smelling the candle scents, deciding which ornaments to buy and admiring some cute ceramics. I introduced my friend to my previous neighbor, the shop owner, Vera : “Barbara- this is my old neighbor, Vera.” My friend asked my ex-neighbor if she could call when a certain ceramic item became available. She had liked the local ceramics artist.

“Sure. Just write your name and phone number here,” said Vera.

As we walked out of the shop, Barbara’s eyes lit up. “Hey,” she asked me, “What’s Vera’s last name?”

I had to admit I didn’t know, in fact I couldn’t even remotely remember with what letter her last name started.

“You got me there,” I confessed. “Maybe I will ask her next time and you can guess what it is. This has been a fun day”

Whatever you plan on baking, remember to stick with your old standbys. Do not try some new trendy desserts or side dishes for that big Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe you’re attempting more healthy dishes with organic ingredients and more new recipes. Forget it. I’m going to say nix, nope, negative and not now. Are you crazy! (Don’t answer that. I’m just saying you might be crazy but you’re not. Although it takes one to know one. I’m sorry if that offends you but it’s just a saying.)

Often when trying some new recipes for a special occasion, the food doesn’t turn out like you had planned, so stick with what you know tastes delicious and have made previously. Older is better. Don’t test out new recipes on your poor family, friends and guests.

Another problem I have encountered when neighbors have smelled the aroma of burning food coming fresh from my oven and kitchen, is that I wait too long to cook for the holidays. I don’t plan ahead. I rush. I think maybe all the necessary ingredients are on hand. They aren’t always, so I run to the grocery store, or substitute an ingredient or simply leave the missing ingredient out and try cooking a great food item without all that’s needed. (When in doubt, do not throw it out. Persist. Improvise. Experiment cautiously.) Substitute something you think will work just as well. Butter can work if you don’t have shortening. Almonds will work if you don’t have walnuts. Water won’t work if you do not have milk. Believe me. Ask a cow.

I hope you have enjoyed my shortcuts for baking pies. It was fun sharing my extensive and expensive experimentation experiences in the kitchen with you. (Don’t let me know how it goes. I’ve got my own problems.)

By Valerie Halla

There’s a great store nearby that’s called The Outside In and I can identify with that name. I’m not sure what that refers to but maybe it means you can bring outside things like fresh air, plants or beautiful flowers from the outside indoors. I’m thinking of other things though. Have you ever worn anything inside out or backwards or upside down? I’ve done it without even realizing that I had goofed.

Once I went to work with my blouse on inside out. It was buttoned so I just slipped it over my head and off I went, except with an inside out blouse. Maybe you have tried that also or maybe you weren’t as tired and bleary eyed as I was. Having three little kids and trying to get them ready for school and out the door at the same time I was going to work, made mornings hectic not to mention crazy, with a capital K.

A nice friend and coworker mentioned my inside out blouse later that day and sure enough, I looked down and the seams were showing on the outside and even though I was comfortable, the blouse just didn’t look right. This was probably on a Monday since Mondays can be pretty tough when you have had a great weekend watching tv, staying up late, sleeping in, and just trying to do all the chores and kids’ stuff in two measly days. It’s insane insanity with a capital E.

I didn’t learn my lesson though. A few months later, I went to work with my earrings on backwards. Another loyal friend and teacher mentioned that my earrings were on backwards. I quickly fixed them and no harm was done except to my modesty. The earrings actually looked good either way. No one cared.

Turns out I did not change even into my 70ish years. You would think getting wiser follows along with getting older. No, that logic doesn’t work for me all the time. I think that I started out a few cards short of a full deck into my 30ish years, then I was always a bit behind mentally, with a capital B. The other night I was so tired that I slept all night with my pajamas on inside out. Sheesh. I still slept fine.

I remember my cousin made some inside out and upside down Halloween costume a while ago and she even did a video with instructions on how to make that weirdly unique outfit. I’m not sure it caught on but she thought it was a winner in the world of Halloween originality. The pants were the top and the top was the pants part. She can probably revive her idea for her upside down backwards costume if we ask her. Maybe I will ask her with compliments first, a lemon bar offering and suggest nicely that she should redo her costume idea. She’s always ready to share her expertise with a capital X.

By Valerie Halla

We have all heard the saying, “I thought I made a mistake one time, but I was mistaken” and I often berate myself for being careless and making silly mistakes now that I’m older, but then I think back. When I was younger and teaching elementary school, often the days would be tiring and stressful. We teachers would be working hard and looking forward to a vacation or the weekend. The job of teachers is physically and mentally tough. One morning I had picked up my brightly colored attendance folder in the office and as usual was about to take roll call and hot lunch count but I couldn’t find my folder. As my students got their backpacks, sweaters and other items settled and were taking their seats, I got their attention with my normal signal and asked, “Has anyone seen my bright yellow attendance folder?”

One helpful yet outspoken young third grader said, “Teacher, it’s tucked under your arm there.”

Sure enough, not wanting to misplace the folder, I had put it under my armpit as to free up my hands for collecting homework, notes and announcements that came my way. Feeling a bit embarrassed, I thanked my kind student and acknowledged my small mistake overlooking it quickly and moved on. After all, we all make mistakes, even teachers and setting an example in front of the 30 youngsters that we learn from our mistakes but we forgive and forget and forge on was a valuable lesson

Another teacher told me she had goofed now and then also and sometimes you are just tired and get careless. She was getting her first grade students ready to go home and lining up bussers, walkers and those who stayed after school for daycare into different lines. She was rushing and picked up a sweater she had found haphazardly. “Class, whose sweater is this?” she chimed in her loud friendly voice.

A little boy’s voice softly told her as he got closer, “Uhhh, Mrs. Smith, that’s your sweater.” She felt silly but brushed it off saying “thank you” to him.

Mistakes happen and they don’t just happen to old folks even though we aren’t as sharp as we used to be. A good thing to do is just acknowledge your errors and move forward.

Another teacher and I had a deal to timeout any students in each other’s class, if any were repeatedly misbehaving. We would send over a note with the student and have that kid sit by us at an extra timeout desk we had set up for a period of time. This teacher and I also liked the old “Little Rascal’s” movies, especially the ones with the adorable kind young teacher they had ironically named “Miss Crabapple” or “Crabby”. She was far from being crabby which made it all the funnier. We even took up the habit of calling one another “Crabby”. As we passed in the office or went by taking our class to PE or recess we would yell out, “Hey, Crabby!” to one another.

One day I was absent and a crotchety older teacher who had retired was subbing for me unbeknownst to my teacher friend. This older retired teacher had a reputation for being strict and grumpy in the 30 years she had taught. My teacher friend sent over a student of hers for a timeout with a note that explained, “Crabby- please timeout Devon for 15 minutes. Thanks.”

When I returned the next day my friend had found out that the “Crabby” note had gone to the grumpy old substitute teacher and told me about it. We both had a laugh but also felt badly for the sub. The older sub lady had never said anything about the note so maybe she had shrugged it off or understood my friend hadn’t been calling her a crabby teacher but meant the note for me.

Over twenty years later we still laugh about the mistake with the Crabby note going to the wrong person and now that I am retired, I often go visit school where I taught and did testing for over 30 years. My friend, who is much younger than me, sees me across campus sometimes and yells out, “Hi, Crabby!” and I yell back, “Hey, Crabby!” We still like the old story about the day I wasn’t at school and we still like the Little Rascals.

THE STRANGER WHO SHOWS UP ON HALLOWEEN

By Baba Wawa

Rarely do I see people I want to interview twice. As a famous celebrity reporter who has interviewed or tried to interview Taylor Swiffer, Kim Karcrashing, and others, I was intrigued by this character as I strolled down the lovely streets recently, of our small town, the fall wind foreboding an eerie encounter soon to unfold.

Pumpkins, colorful gourds, fake giant spiders in glittery webs, and various Halloween holiday decorations popping up in yards as I slowly made my way through town, the snap, crackle, pop of fall leaves sounding underfoot as I walked along. (Geez, suddenly I craved some Rice Krispies with cold milk! Wouldn’t that taste good about now?)

~Baba, do not get distracted. See if you can sneak up on that tall, mysterious, gangly stranger back there and get a quick interview.~

I got my short interview with the mysterious stranger but he is still not talking. He’s pretty stubborn. Maybe I will try again next year. He is the tall slim quiet type. I’m usually not shy but this guy kinda creeped me out. I need some Rice Krispies to help revive me.

READY OR NOT

You can’t be 70ish without thinking about death. Sorry, please do not give up on me yet. I’m going to make this as painless as possible and throw in a few jokes to sooth your worries.

Grandpa Sanderson’s favorite indoor sport later in his senior years was attending funerals. When you’re young, it’s not a number one priority but in his generation and with his kind and generous spirit and upbringing, you attended church and you loyally attended funerals for friends and loved ones who have passed.

Now that I am in my early 70’s, I understand since recently I’ve lost some good friends and relatives. One of our longtime friends passed away in August and she was 70ish. Her husband of 54 years taught math and science with a lot of our friends at our local school for over 30 years. He’s taking it really hard. He called me yesterday for my birthday. We had a solid conversation with some philosophy and emotional support thrown in. It was intense. After the happy birthday wishes, he talked about his wife’s death. He is reading books on grieving and joining a support group. He was numb and did not know his own name for two weeks after she passed away, he told me. Then he said his wife sent a message to him from the after life and he realized she wanted him to keep loving others. He decided to use his time left on Earth to learn. She wanted him to learn about himself and others throughout this grieving process. To turn it into another chapter in life and not hang his head in sorrow.

It was good to hear him speak of his experience. He’s always been a caring, thoughtful man. He has these 70ish years left to learn and grow. His wife would have wanted him to keep learning, to keep loving life like she did.

Our sons visited this week. One from LA and one from the Bay Area. I was chatting away as we sat around our old kitchen table (an antique table that sat in Grandma and Grandpa’s South Dakota cabin long ago). I was telling them about teacher friends and family that had passed away. Our oldest son said. “Uh, I have a rule that you can’t mention more than two people who have died in our conversation.” He did it with a half smile on his face. He didn’t explain himself so I figured he was teasing. Later I decided that being 42, he didn’t want to hear about dead people. On the other side being 70ish, I’m experiencing several close friends passing away which leads to realizing how close to death I am at this age and stage.

Back to my phone conversation with our friend who’s wife died last month: his wife who had cancer 13 years ago and had beaten it for the time being, always said on her birthday each year she was so happy to be here. She was glad to be alive. She loved and learned in the time she had left.

It’s another part of being older whether you’re 65 or 75 or 85. We face the end differently the closer we get to it. Our son joked around by making up a rule about dead people in conversation. That’s how he dealt with the subject. And that’s fine.

I once heard that our first name is Birth and our last name is Death. I don’t like that saying. I prefer the old saying: you’re as young as you feel. I also prefer my friend opting for continued learning and loving in life. And his message to me that day was “Happy Birthday” so I am still celebrating my birth, another year to look forward to and having that cocktail and enjoying that sunset.