Angel Sisters

Irene and Beverly were 1st cousins and the only daughters of two sisters born at the turn of the century. Each of them had one older and one younger brother. Even though they lived over six hundred miles apart, they were like sisters, caring about each other. They stayed close over the years through letters, phone calls and visits.

After WWII, Irene showed off her young baby daughter to Beverly and later when Beverly was married, their bond did not cease. Over the years, they spent an evening now and then, after the children had been put to bed or on a Saturday afternoon, in the Bluebird Coffee Shop laughing and talking over soda and a piece of pie, while their husbands would take their turn for an hour to give their wives a break. Beverly and Mother could talk a mile a minute, crying over their problems and laughing at their “lot in life”. They had this little bit of time alone to share their thoughts and feelings and to take a deep breath.

I remember Mom and Beverly saying that when they would do that, they came home with renewed energy and enthusiasm for daily tasks. This was their ‘boost’ to give them the courage to put on a ‘stiff upper lip’ and get back to their homes as wives of diligent husbands and mothers of feisty little angels ready, daily, to give their moms a difficult time.

With eyes peeled, I observed first hand as these two ‘angel-sisters’ interacted. I was very small when my mother first took me with her and then recorded that experience in my baby book. Later in my youth, I remember the feelings of an experience where the two of them were laughing and talking at their meeting. There was an overwhelming kinship they had for each other as if time stood still. Again, I reminisce, as a new bride, visiting Beverly and her family. I was welcomed into her family, as if I were her sister, securing that friendship into my own life.

Do you have an ‘angel sister’ or a cousin that takes time out of their day to give you a word of encouragement? If not, there are others waiting to hear a good word from you.

Feeding the Ducks

A lot of water has flowed under this bridge since I was young and so loved to feed the ducks with my father. That was one of the original, great past times of my youth. I still have actual photographs of those good old days picnicking by a stream or a pond where the feathers dotted the grass and the “poop” was scattered everywhere which made us watch our step.

I remember taking my own children on duck feeds, but they won’t remember those times as much as my grandchildren will. When my children were young, we did not live very close to a duck pond, so they were really not the draw. We lived in Canada where the summers were short and ducks were ‘game birds.’ I know that our mechanic had ducks in his back yard, which we went to see once or twice. More often, we would always see the ducks and the geese fly overhead in the spring and in the fall, watching them land in a nearby stubble field where they could find the gleanings of the past harvest. Sill, I love that picture in my mind of birds on the wing.

Now, I love to spend an afternoon or a few hours with the grandchildren feeding the ducks which takes me back to my childhood. I usually rob the bread drawer of all the old half used loaves and buns with the ends left open that are hard and crusty. I load everyone in the van and we head for the closest grocery store to get a fresh loaf to replace what we have taken and pick up any old day old bread that may be available. Sometimes, we are too late in the day for the day old bread.

When we arrive at the park, I love the interaction between child and duck. One always insists on chasing or trying to pick up one of the ducks. One always wants to make the duck his life long friend. One might be afraid of the duck because he at one time got bit or chased by one himself. One will always love the water. One loves to gather the sticks and the feathers. Finally, of course, there is always one that loves to help me take the pictures. Usually each child takes his turn at being one or many of the ‘one’s’ above.

On a sunny day, early last summer, I remember taking four grandchildren, who were between the ages of four and nine, to the duck pond. It was a beautiful afternoon as we all danced in the grass with the warmth of the sun on our backs. We were feeding the ducks until every bag was empty, even shaking the bag to get every last crumb on to the grass. Darting around the droppings on the sidewalk, we started on a journey - the half mile trek around the pond as we were laughing and talking. Finding very unusual items by the water's edge, turned our conversations to recycling, rain, endangered species, families, and this time together.

Time seemed to float on air until we came to a grassy knoll where each of the children struggled to climb a nearby tree. Many of the lower limbs had been trimmed off so - stuggle they did. In the distance, we could hear the burbling of a small stream. Then, like a siren calling to a ship, it pulled their gaze and they darted off to see how close they could get without falling in. Nervously, this grandmother encouraged them to continue the back stretch of the walk where we were again discussing life in a way only understood by children as they collected sticks - each child attempting to find a bigger stick than the previous find.

Wearily, without any coaxing, we all ambled into the van satisfied that the trip had been worth every minute. We even have pictures to prove it.

Wishful thinking vs. bad eyesight

My husband and I had just finish a nice meal of stir fry vegetables, pork chops and a mixture of brown and white rice. We visited a while and when we were both finished, my husband started to help clear the table. He is sweet and often does that for me. I was scraping the bone chips off of the plates and putting the extra food away.

While rummaging around the cabinet from something sweet to eat after supper, I heard him catch his breath. “Oh," he exclaimed in surprise, “I thought these were cinnamon buns with white frosting.” He had picked up a baggie of two frozen chicken breasts and quickly dropped it again. It had been sitting on the cabinet from my delayed decision as to whether I should cook pork chops or chicken for supper. Because the crystals had hidden the true nature of the bag, it took the frozen feel of the package to awaken his vacant thoughts.

“I know I need my eyes examined,” I quipped. ”I should make an appointment for you at the same time.”

“No,” he replied, “there is a difference between wishful thinking and bad eyesight.” With that reply, I rolled my eyes, and he went back to finish what he was doing before supper.

Within My Realm

This is a place where I keep some of my treasured experiences with people I know. Some stories are of people I know well, but, there are stories of people I have just met. I would love to be able to talk with all of them every day, but since that is not possible, I have many days where I just think of a person and say to myself, "I hope ____ knows I am thinking about them." or "I hope they are OK!"

Sometimes, living in the far north, there are many long days and nights when my mind floats back to the likeable friends of my youth. Again, as my mind delves further into those friendships, I feel the kinship for those special neighbors and friends left behind in the places, I used to call home. Then, as the sun skips across the sky, more than words can ever express, I envision the wonderful and unique personalities of my children and my grandchildren who are scattered across Canada and the US.

Many times I have thought to myself "Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could have communication every day with a loved one? Wouldn't it be nice to always be able to tell others how special they are through a note, a phone call or a visit? Yes, I have a 'Facebook' page and probably should have a 'Twitter' page, but there are days when I feel like those notes are much too public or I feel like I want to say more.

Today, in this modern world, I am not that far away. There are many things at my finger-tips that help me to communicate over the miles. I have the mail, the telephone, the computer, and the power of prayer. These special people are not far from me at any time. I just have to "step up to the plate" to make the effort to be 'there' to communicate my feelings, my hopes and my dreams with them and for them.