Happy Valentine’s Day

I love this story I got from a guy who is nice enough to comment on my writing from time to time.  He is always telling me what a wonderful woman his wife is and how lucky he is to have found her.  In fact, I think he described it as “lucky as a dog with two dicks. I couldn’t speak from experience for obvious reasons, but he certainly sounds happy.

Me: How did you meet her?

Him: I met my wife at my local bar and she was sitting with some mutual friends I knew. I was working on several big projects at the steel plant and was getting behind on my house work and gardening so she offered her services. The house was spotless. My clothes ironed and folded and she even put a little garden in the back yard along with flowers along the driveway. I worked 11 months without a day off then finally got 2 weeks off at Christmas. I thanked her for her services and gave her a nice going away bonus. She asked what I was doing for the holidays and I said just taking a long deserved break alone. Why don’t we spend Christmas together she said and the next day she brought some clothes over along with her bird Joey and her little dog Amie. The next two weeks were magic and her spell has never worn off. I had given up on ever being happy again and had buried myself in work. What a fool I was. I didn’t want love but love found me.

Me:  You were lucky to find each other.

Him:  Luckier than a dog with two dicks! Were going out dancing today and I wish you could be there to meet us and have some fun. I just wanted to share that my favorite song Higher and Higher is on YouTube and the video is of Fred Astaire and partner dancing to it. It’s great fun and wish you would watch it and think of me!

Me: That sounds really lucky.  Tell me about her

Him: My wife is Marie and she comes from a large family of German/Russian descent from Regina Saskatchewan western Canada.She married young and moved to Calgary Alberta and had four kids in a row. Her first husband drank himself to death at 34 years old. She then met a man I knew from Sault Ste. Marie and they moved back here. From what little I know he drank and abused her till she’d had enough and left him. She managed a large motel when I met her and lived just around the corner from me. She keeps in great shape exercising and loves reading novels. Summertime she’s out in the garden and we have lots of preserves come fall. I know you would love her for she’s kind and friendly and likes a few beer and good company. I have a funny story about meeting her mother if you want to hear it?

Me:  I’d love to hear that one.

Him:  We went out west to visit my wifes’ family after we got married and the first night in Regina we spent at her Mothers’ place. Her Mom was leery about me and a little cold but polite. My wife was tired so went to bed and left me and Mom to talk. I got us a couple of beers and she showed me her picture albums of the family. There were old pictures of a little girl with a dog or sitting on a pony. I’d ask is that little girl you Grandma and she yelled don’t call me granma and I laughed. Another picture of a little girl and I asked the same question and the madder she got. Finally I asked if she would like another beer Grandma and this time she smiled and politely said yes, thanks son and we were pals after that. I loved all her family and they accepted me and loved me as there own.

Me:  I like the way Grandma thinks.

This is one of the best love stories I’ve heard in a long time.  It has all the essentials, housework, bars, Fred Astaire, And a beer-swigging granny.  I’d love to know this guy and his sweetie.

A card and poem from Mother.

Finding True Love is hard to do.

Looking for one, forever true.

Resigned to a life, always alone.

Thinking my heart would never find home.

Not looking for love, love found me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Birdseed for Valentines

This will be our forty-sixth Valentines Day since our marriage.  Bud is not big on gestures.  I’m pretty sure I’m getting birdseed this year.  That’s fine by me.

Old Love

Young Love is sweet, but far more precious is Old Love. Nothing warms the heart like an old couple who have weathered life’s assaults and not become embittered.  An Old couple laughing as they amble along holding hands warms my heart, knowing that they are probably enjoying the moment. I love seeing old lovers seated at a restaurant, or a park

Fathers and Time

I hadn’t seen this picture of my father until recently.  He died in 1981.  This is so typical of how happy and loving he looked the last few years of his life, once his children were grown and he retired.  He was a loving grandfather, endlessly patient and loving.  He never tired of his grandchildren.   At this point in his life, he couldn’t get enough of his family.  I am glad to have this memory.

Mother’s Day 2015

         

 

 

As a Mother’s Day tribute, I am printing pictures made over the course of Mother’s life.  She is the tiny blonde child in the oldest picture and the lovely woman easily identifiable in the rest.  I can only say she is the finest woman and the best mother I have ever known.  I love you Mother.

 

 

The Things We Do For Our Kids! Guest Post By Cordelia’s Mom

I am so proud to that Cordelia’s Mom did this Guest Post for Mother’s Day.  Please check out her lovely blog.  You will love it as well.

It was the mid-1950’s.  I was in first grade.

Mother’s Day was approaching, and my teacher decided to have us all make noodle necklaces for our moms.  She brought in a variety of dry noodles, along with string and water paints – and wrapping paper.  I was so proud of my creation!  Mom was going to love  it!

On Mother’s Day, I watched my mother open her precious gift. She oohed and aahed, and put the necklace around her neck.  I was so happy to see her wear it that day – I thought it was the most beautiful jewelry she ever had.

My mother didn’t work (back then, few did). Her only recreation was going bowling once a week in a league with other mothers.

Her annual bowling banquet was the week after Mother’s Day.  I watched my mother dress in her most beautiful (to me) outfit, high heels and all.  As she started to reach toward her jewelry chest, I told her she should wear the necklace I made because it was better than anything she had in that jewelry chest.  And she put that necklace on and left the house for her banquet.  I was so proud!

Fast forward approximately 25 years.  I was now a young mother whose girls often brought me hand made gifts.  One Sunday, I was visiting Mom, and we got to discussing little girls and how to raise them.  The subject of the noodle necklace came up.  I chuckled and told Mom that I was sorry I made her wear that necklace to her banquet, and that I now understood that she probably took it off as soon as she was out of eyesight.

There was a silence as my mother thought fondly back to that day.  Then, she told me:

“No, I didn’t.  I wore it all evening and told all the other mothers that my little girl made it for me.”

And that’s how I learned to be a mother. Mom was tough when it was called for, but she loved her kids and made sure that we all knew that.

Mom once read about a father who told his child, “You are my favorite, but don’t tell your brothers and sisters because it would hurt their feelings.”  After the old man died, the kids were comparing notes and discovered that he had made that statement to each and every one of them.  Mom thought that was a wonderful way to make a child feel special – and while neither she nor I ever tried it with our own kids, we both understood the philosophy behind it, and tried to love each child in the way that child needed to be loved.  I know she succeeded; I hope I did, too.

Happy Mother’s Day!  If you have children, give them hugs from me.  If your mother is still alive, give her a kiss on her aging cheek.  And if you are a mother, may you be showered hugs, kisses and homemade gifts from your own children.

Thanks, Linda, for allowing me to guest post for you today.  I will hold you to your promise to reciprocate on my blog!

I love to hear from my readers.  You may comment on this post, comment on my Facebook or Twitter pages, or email me at cordeliasmom2012@yahoo.com.

Image by Cordelia’s Mom

Things Mothers Do

I miss all the things my mother used to do for me. Even though she had to get up to a freezing house at five-thirty in winter to do it, she always had a hot breakfast on the table when we got up, usually hot biscuits, eggs, fresh milk, homemade jam or preserves, and either grits or oatmeal.  Like most kids, I didn’t want it, but she insisted. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”  After the whirlwind of getting the older 

Grandpa and I /Guest Post from Erika Kind

I am so delighted that my friend Erika Kind agreed to do a guest post for me.  I have read and enjoyed hearing of the wonderful, warm relationship she had with her grandfather.  Wouldn’t it be a wonderful world if we all had a person with whom we share unconditional love and the bond that is never broken?

Grandpa and I

My grandfather was born 1927 as the only child of his parents. As far as I know he had a happy childhood. But his good times ended before he was even 20 years old when he was conscripted for WW II. He often told us about the war, his struggles in captivity and starving till he was just skin and bones. My grandfather was Austrian.   After Hitler invaded Austria they had to fight for Germany.  At the end of the war when all the horrible facts were revealed to the general public, he was shocked to no end to learn what he had been forced to fight for. Due to infections and lack of food, he developed cirrhosis of the liver which eventually killed him. My grandfather was a policeman all his life,. He was living and working in Vienna. Here is a photo of him with his father.

My “Opapa”, as we called him, was a tall, handsome man. He was married twice. His first wife was my mom’s mother. They got divorced when my mother (also an only child) was 11. When I was born, I was his pride and joy. I am sure that we are true soul mates. We had this certain connection. He was a young grandpa at the age of 43. When I was about 5 months old my parents moved with me to another part of the country about 600 km away from Vienna. Afterwards, I only saw my grandfather when he came for vacation for two weeks a year or when we went to Vienna for 3 weeks during the summer break. That’s me and grandpa. My grandfather did everything for me. He always knew how to cheer me up when I was mad or sad. I loved the way of making me laugh, imitating voices and roles of popular comedians. He loved music. We always sang as we walked through the woods. He also kept me entertained imitating instruments like drums and trumpets. He built a huge model railroad layout for me, though it took him years since he could only work on it during his two week vacation with us. Grandpa knew everything about the Austrian history, really EVERYTHING! Whenever we walked around Vienna, went to a museum, or visited a castle or burg, he was like a historic almanac. Of course he not only knew about the historic persons and how everybody was related, but all the data of all happenings. Naturally, I did not appreciate it a bit. As a child or teenager, I did not listen, finding it boring.  Only days after he had died, a question about history came up. I reflexively thought I could ask Opapa… and started crying the next moment. During my teenage times I pulled back and didn’t talk a lot. I was in a lot of pain and didn’t let anybody in, not even my grandfather. I know that I was not nice at times and even mean. Grandfather never ever said one single word. He never acted hurt or annoyed. Never! I guess he was the only person in my whole life who never made me feel guilty. He just let me be. Five days before he died he called my mother. I was planning a visit a week later and he wanted to catch up with data. He wasn’t well at that moment and I am pretty sure he knew what was coming. When he called I was waiting for my sister to get ready for our Volleyball practice. We were already late. I did not take the call and just told my mom what to tell him. In the end I could have taken the call because they ended it before I left.  I missed my last opportunity to hear his voice. It took me many years to forgive myself for missing this chance. My grandfather died in 1990 at the age of 62.  In my mind, I still see his smiling face and  his curly grey hair going weird in the wind.  I still see the way he was dressed, the way he walked and moved and hear his special laughter.   Most of all I still feel his loving spirit!        

Loving My Babies

On the subject of preference among children, I loved both my children best. Enjoying a loving moment with one, I’d think, “I could never love another child this much!” Conversely, when I was with the other, I’d have the same thought. I confess, I didn’t always treat them the same. One was more wayward, pushing as far as they dared, knowing I couldn’t commit murder, as attractive as it might seem at the moment. Most of the time, the other child was empathetic, well-behaved, a total joy, unless they weren’t, which also certainly happened on memorable occasions. Sometimes the needs of one overshadowed the other, challenging us to the maximum of our feeble parenting skills.

Often either, one of them would cuddle up to me, asking, “Who do you love more, me or ……….? I usually delighted them by saying, “Well, you can never tell, but right now, I love you more.” They found my other answer equally delightful. “You’re so silly! You know I don’t like either of you!” Then they’d dissolve into a fits of giggles as I tickled them. They loved either answer, secure, knowing I loved them, no matter what.