Babies grow up...

My baby turned 21 on Sunday, March 1st. He is now of "legal age". I can't express how that makes me feel in any other words but these: "old" and "scared". When I was 21, I had already been married in the Temple, gone through the 'valley of the shadow of death' in childbirth, and survived the Teton Dam flood disaster! I was a busy wife, mom, and new Primary President in St. Anthony 3rd Ward. I really felt 'of age' and all grown up then. I knew so much about life and had no fear! I am now (gulp) 52 and the older I get, the less I know about life and the more scared I become. In 1977 the world was so very different at my "21". Road rage and child predator data bases were non-existent. Pornography was a photo of a topless girl available only in the centerfold of a $3 Playboy magazine. To buy one in Preston, Idaho you had to walk into one of two local drugstores and ask for one. They were taped up in a brown paper wrapper and kept behind the counter and there was shame in buying one. I worked as a soda jerk/clerk at Foss Drug. There were 3 'regulars'---middle-aged men who would come in each month, go directly to Ezra's pharmacy counter and then bring it to me to ring up. They never could look me in the eye.
How different is today...with one click of a 'mouse button' unimaginable images are flashed in a split-second's time - even unsolicited - to people much younger than 'legal' age. AND-there is no shame involved.
I often wondered where that mother pig was when those foolish little pigs went out into the world to seek their fame and fortunes. Hopefully, 21 really is the magic age! I hope Jake will go out and build the house of his future on a strong foundation, and not get eaten by 'the big bad wolf'. So, "Happy Birthday" to my youngest piglet. Stay away from sticks and straw!

On turning pages...

The sad thing about reading a book is that you have to leave the old page behind when you turn over the next. You know it's a good read when there is a sense of loss and sadness as you close the back cover over the final page. Harper Lee’s "To Kill a Mockingbird" remains one of my fondest books for many reasons.
Scout captured my heart from the beginning, reminding me of a freckled tomboy I once knew. Her summer adventures with Jem and Dill conjure up my own childhood musings by the score: Fireflies and fleeting rainbows... Sunburns and soap bubbles...Cricket crescendos at dusk followed by 'night games'... The still, humid Indiana air announcing an approaching tornado long before the warning sirens or radio did.
"Hurry" was not a word known to any child on Iroquois Trail. The clock slowed to allow time to savor each penny bug and pollywog rescued from the ditch. It was "Leave it to Beaver land" and gloriously innocent.
The year was 1961 and I came to know the one 'different' little girl in our sublime suburbia. She had a pink coat, a wide smile, and dark skin. I didn’t care about that. She liked bike rides and Barbie, just like me. She never would eat my penny candy nigger babies, but we shared the same pixie stick. We played and laughed together each Saturday and walked different directions to school on weekdays. I heard new words like "prejudice" and "segregation", but I was oblivious to their meaning.
The pages of my early childhood turned slowly and joyfully and I'm grateful for my memories. They allow me to re-read my history which lessens the sense of loss from life's closed chapters.
Fast Forward-2009! A new page of history has been written. We have a newly-elected president. He is different than I am. He has a wide smile and dark skin. I don't care about that, but I do care about the book that is about to be written. I have to say I am uneasy about the ending. For the first time since learning to read "Dick and Jane", I wish I could read the last pages first to see if I'm going to like the story.
In "To Kill a Mockingbird", Atticus said, "Why reasonable people go stark raving mad when anything involving a Negro comes up, is something I don't pretend to understand." (Chapter 9) I don't understand either. My fellow countrymen and the media is 'stark raving mad' right now. I hope the dust settles soon because people are not being reasonable or responsible! I love my country and the principles it was founded on. I want President Obama to succeed and I am going to pray that he will. I hope he wields the mighty pen of the United States President to write a history for the American people that will prove too good to put down.
It feels weird to say that my life is more than half over. I don't feel like I flip page by page anymore. Rather, I am living my daily life in whole chapters! I’d like time to slow down again and allow me moments to lie in the grass and make shapes out of the clouds, fly a kite, or (hmm) maybe even read a good book! But I can say, I know why you can’t judge a book by its cover. Life is all about turning the pages.

All Aboard For...

...making memories!!!" This year for our "first (and only) gift of Christmas", we bought grandkid pjs and robes and family tickets for The Polar Express. They say "a picture's worth a thousand words." So, I will only add that the horrible storm was worth braving to see the delight on the grandkids' faces and the pictures tell the story. When Santa came aboard, it was like magic for the kids. It was fun having the whole train car filled with friends and family. There are no better friends than old friends and BOY! ...are we getting old! I was relieved that all the Fosters, Stenbergs and other ward friends arrived safely to the Heber Station. We missed Brandon's jokes and comments though. Merry Memories!