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I don't write here as often ss many others. Forgive me. So to do a really quick wrap up since my "Well Crap" post... Liz's cancer is under control, I think. She had a kidney removed in September. Follow up testing revealed concerns with liver, ovary, gall bladder and lung. Surgery to remove (remaining) ovary and gall bladder in outpatient surgery lead to a 3+ weel hospital stay starting Thanksgiving week and endng last week. Still watching the other spots for now, optimistically. Focus now is on Liz's recovery from the Nov 23 surgery and complications, but she's definitely on the upswing.

Liz got "the Cancer" (I still whisper when I say that) in August, and sister Maggie also had the same kidney cancer in '02. I decided to get some testing done and am in the clear, as is my sister Mary Pat. I heard one unsubstantiated report that there is a high incidence of kidney cancer in people who grew up in Iowa. Maybe being around farm chemicals? Who knows? Maybe it's our family or maybe it's our specific town where we grew up (right by the grain elevator and pneumonia tanks?) or maybe it's nothing. Probably nothing.

Thanksgiving was me in Iowa with Liz and Mom. DB and the kids here in CT making do. They did great, but I was determined to make up for it at Christmas. So we had a very lovely Christmas Eve (2 church services!) and Christmas Day. Food, love, celebrating the Christ Child, and being together. Today, the 26th, a little time at the mall, afternoon naps, dinner and watching college bowl games with a dear friend. All in all, a very happy time.

I wish you and yours a wonderful holiday season!

Peace, kk

Well crap.

So my sister Liz has cancer. Crap. Liz is pretty much completely devoted to helping other people, serving other peoople, making other people happy. So this is really pretty freakin' stupid and unfair if you ask me. Ohhh I HATE this!!!!

So when I asked how I could help, she said I'm her prayer-warrior and asked me to get busy. If there's anyone out there, will you pray too? I'll write about more specifics when I can, but for now, general prayers for Liz, Lauren and Maddy.

Peace,
kkb

Wings of Hope

My friend Kate Ersevim is running her first marathon this fall - the Hartford Marathon on October 10, 2009. Kate is running in honor of her hero (and son!) Thomas Ersevim who is one of the coolest 4th graders I've ever met. Thomas spent all of third grade fighting cancer. He recently completed treatments and is currently cancer-free.

I wrote several months ago about how a passing encounter with Kate and Thomas brought me to my knees and caused me to rethink some priorities. It was nothing either of them said or did, and frankly in the grand scheme of all the Ersevim family encountered last year, they're probably completely unaware of their impact on me. But their influence has caused me to be more patient, more forgiving, less aware of MYself and more able to see others' perspectives. More prayerful, too. So if you're reading, Michael, Kate, Christopher, Thomas, thank you.

Kate's marathon effort is in honor of the Great Mr. Thomas Ersevim, and also as part of team Wings of Hope. Wings of Hope is a very special effort to run and raise funds for a new, state-of-the-art Clinical Care Center for Cancer and Other Blood Disorders at Connecticut Children’s Medical Center. If you are able, please join me in making a donation to Kate's fundraising goal. Here is a link to her webpage: http://www.wingsofhope.kintera.org/kersevim

Note the wonderful picture of Kate, Thomas and Christopher. Such a lovely photo of LIFE, LOVE and PEACE. Totally brought tears to my eyes this morning. Thanks for sharing it Kate!

James P. Kennedy

I am struggling with a very solid case of “non-writing.” Lately, I’m only getting around to taking care of essential tasks, with very little energy or brain power left for much else. But today is a day that deserves some special attention. I just hung up the phone with sister #1 who said “today is a day for memories.” Oh how right she is.

*****
A year ago, my dad, went to Heaven. I find comfort knowing that Dad is freed from the body he left on earth – a body that lost mobility and felt so much physical pain. Now, he’s standing on two legs and looking down on us from Heaven. I tried to talk to Dad today, maybe searching for a sign that he’s watching and I’m doing the right things, maybe just waiting to hear his voice? I don’t really know what I was looking for, but right when I was about to give up, I got this amazing image of Dad with Jesus! I was so excited, am still, to realize THAT’s where Dad is now… walking with Jesus! It’s exactly how things should be. Dad lived a Christ-like life, modeling his actions on the life Jesus led. Love. Forgiveness. Compassion. Peace. Faith.

Please let me share some memories with you.

*****
The first time I brought my Protestant, Republican, country club boyfriend (now my darling husband) home to meet the folks, I was anxious. We were raised devoutly Catholic, verrrry left-leaning Democrats, very involved in Democratic politics, by parents who regularly and willingly gave the shirts of their backs (and ours!) to help a stranger in need. Heck the one thing Mom and Dad always said of their four daughters’ futures: “We don’t care if she marries a black man, a Jew, a Mexican or a Baptist. Just don’t bring home a Republican!” Um, sorry about that Dad.

Once Dad met DB, I think he got over the Republican thing – maybe secretly hoping he might be able to convert DB’s thinking someday. However, they had an interesting talk about being Catholic, or not. Dad shared with DB a basic tenet of his own beliefs, that DB still remembers to this day. Dad, walking in Jesus’ footsteps, believed this: Hate the sin, love the sinner.

*****

One summer, Dad and friends built a brick patio and rock wall around a large oak tree in the back yard. This was a major project and everyone got involved. I remember going on many brick-scavenger hunts with Mom to pick up “supplies.” Although I was too young to notice at the time, apparently there were (and still are!) a number of PBR pull tabs cemented into the rock wall.

The patio was awesome, and unfortunately no sooner was it completed, than EVERY bird in our small corner of the world decided to take up residence in the oak tree. They were so dang loud, and quite oblivious to the placement of their, ahem, droppings, that that patio became quite unusable!

After consulting with several experts, i.e., other PBR-drinking dads in the neighborhood, it was decided we must scare the birds away by shooting blanks into the tree. Problem was, Dad never owned a gun in his life, didn’t like them, didn’t believe in them, and I don’t think ever even pulled a trigger.

So several nights in a row, Mom herded us into the house, away from windows, to cover our ears while Dad’s friend fired up into the tree. The plan eventually worked, and we were once again able to enjoy the fruits of Dad’s labor. Dad never fired the gun, we never “witnessed” the shooting, no birds were shot, and all was well in the land of Oz.

Last year, I went back to the old house, now vacant, and stole a brick from the patio. Please don’t tell on me.

*****

Living in a house with four daughters and a wife, Dad adapted well. If he was a sports fan, I never knew it, except for the annual Iowa-Iowa State wrestling match he’d watch on Iowa Public TV. Dad loved to cook, and spent special time with each of us in the kitchen. He also had an amazing vegetable garden each year, and one year let me have my own little strawberry patch. I remember him coming home from work, and standing out over that garden with the hose, watering it faithfully each night.

As much as Dad loved his girls, a highlight of each summer was when my cousins Hannibal and Aaron would come to stay with the grandparents. This was Dad’s chance to hang out with boys, do gross boy things, and make their annual trek to amusement park Adventureland. One of Dad’s favorite stories, one he was still telling last year, involves the boyish antics of cousin Aaron, now a grown man in his mid-30s.

On a ride called the “Silly Silo” people stand up against the wall inside a large cylinder. The cylinder spins around faster and faster, and eventually the floor drops away. On a diet of funnel cakes, popcorn and saltwater taffy, you can just imagine the impact on a 8-year-old’s stomach.

Exiting the ride, Dad asked the boys, “Well, how was it?’’

Aaron enthusiastically replied, “It was great Uncle Jim! I puked and it stuck to the inside of the walls while we spun around!”

Thanks Hannibal and Aaron for that little jolt of testosterone Dad so loved!

*****

In addition to his five girls at home, Dad had another very large flock of female admirers. The state women’s prison is in our hometown, and Dad became a driving force to bring Jesus’s message of love, forgiveness and compassion to the women there. He helped implement a retreat program called Residents Encounter Christ (REC) to the prison, and spent countless hours making sure the women knew that, in spite of what brought them there, they were loved and valued and children of God. Dad became friend, confidant, and father-figure to so many. One highlight of a REC weekend was the special Saturday night meal, prepared and served by Dad and a team of other volunteers. He made sure each of them felt cherished by this experience. Although stricter prison regulations now mean that special meal is a no-go, there is a whole generation of women, some lifers and many on the “outside” who were touched by Dad and remember his love as a highpoint during a dark time in their lives.

*****

After a long career as a small business owner, Dad had a late-in-life career working for the John Q. Hammonds company in their hotels. Late one night, a weary business travel checked into his room, ready for a soft pillow and a few hours of rest before an important presentation. Minutes later, the man frantically called the front desk, asking of there was an all-night Wal Mart or similar store where he could pick up some dress shoes… he’d forgotten to pack them, and sneakers with a business suit would not cut the mustard come morning. Dad, calm and reassuring, told the man he would get to work on finding a solution, and encouraged him to get some sleep. Dad got busy scouring the Yellow Pages for anything that might suffice, with no luck. As the sun started to peek on the horizon, still no shoes in sight, Dad rang the guest’s room, ready to admit defeat, when brilliance struck. When the guy anxiously answered, Dad asked what size he wore, and realizing a close-enough match, informed the guest that suitable shoes would be outside his hotel door in 30 minutes.

Dad got busy with the shoe polish and a cloth, and placed the shoes outside the room at precisely 7am. Then, his overnight-shift having ended, and ready for his own soft pillow, Dad headed out to the parking lot. In his stocking feet.

*****
Thanks for listening to my memories for a while. I find that once I started writing, I have about a million more stories to share, so hopefully this blog won’t be so silent anymore.

But now, I have a to do list that contains a number of Very Important things. Call Mom. Call three sisters (one down, two to go). Things related to my job and career and clients I need to take care of. Get our 2008 tax info together. Return calls to two dear friends – one of whom invited me to a Broadway show on April 23! My list also contains this: “update iPod.” So please excuse me now while I attend to matters iPod-ish.

*****
Things may come to those who wait, but only the things left by those who hustle. -- Abraham Lincoln

*****
kk

Vemont, a haiku

 

Weather, company

Food and drink, all without fault

I’m a lucky girl

Laughter Lives Tuesday!

This post is part of "Laughter Lives! Tuesday" on the Riggs Family Blog. Check our their blog to read everyone else's "Laughter Lives!" posts.


*****

I was talking to a friend on Sunday, who reminded me that we should cherish every moment we have with our children. I had been complaining about what-feels-like-constant time behind the wheel carting kids to and fro, lamenting the more-stringent teen driving laws which went into effect last August. She told me that car time with her daughters – all off-to and out-of college now – is one of her most precious memories. With the kids in the car, a captive audience, you get all kinds of insight and information. No amount of monitoring of the Facebook, text messages or email can ever replace that valuable in person time with our kids. Thanks Mary, for the great reminder.

*****

Starting in January, we joined a new carpool for driving to the high school; every fourth morning it’s our turn. I find it a hilarious juxtaposition of female teens and male teens. While most of my daily interaction is with a male of the species (read: giant hulking food vacuum), it is delightful to spend a few minutes in the morning with these young ladies. They are talkative and forthcoming and love to share details. My boy, on the other hand, is silent, taciturn and wordless. We’ve recently been privy to news of a boy from another school showing interest in one of the girls (exciting!), and in-depth details regarding the Great Biology Test Scandal of 2009. These were events that I had a passing knowledge of based on bits and pieces from the boy, but once the girls jumped in the car, it was awesome to be able to fill in the blanks! One of the other dads who drives has welcomed my boy with open arms – the dad (of two girls) said he’s thrilled with the addition of a little testosterone to the daily commute.

*****

There are all kinds of stories on the internet and elsewhere that are daily reminders to parents to love your children every day with all you’ve got. With one in high school and one in junior high, and our hectic sports and activities schedules, I sometimes pause to ponder the fact that my boy will be off to college within three years, and my daughter just a few years after that. Pause. Heart flutter. It’s the way things are supposed to be, I know that, but it makes me clutch, for all I’m worth, at every possible moment with them. Kids – let your parents hug you! We need it!

*****

All this reflecting and loving on my kids brings me to the point of this post… my friends Brent and Michelle over at the Riggs Family Blog host a weekly blog party called “Laughter Lives Tuesday.” A place for funny family stories and Brent has posted a few great ones. My story is dated a few years back, but pretty typical for the type of thing that would happen to our family when the kids were young.

Also, take a moment to learn a little more about the Riggs family.  They are amazing loving people.  Please please please pray for their little Abby, who can use lots of love right now.

*****

Here's my "Laughter Lives Tuesday!" post:

When our kids were 1 and 5, we moved to my husband’s hometown and joined the church he’d grown up in. Other members of the church were, for the most part, DB’s parents, their friends, and several other “pillars of the community.” Our attendance there was somewhat notable as the church focused on attracting young families, and the return of a member, with a family in tow, was proof that their efforts were working. So attending coffee hour after church was practically required for our little foursome. I’d stand all gussied up, perfect children in my arms, and get introduced to my father-in-law’s Rotary buddies, my mother-in-law’s Ladies Auxiliary ladies, and my husband’s potential business contacts. After a few months, I knew enough people to hold my own.

One morning I found myself in conversation with the head of a large local charitable foundation, a Very Important Person in town. I had my toddler on one hip, and a cup of coffee in the other hand. I was wearing a sharp little top, that I was sure made me look quite mature and classy. It was red and white hound’s-tooth check, and zipped all the way up the front. Deep in conversation likely related to his foundation’s substantial support for a cause I was working on, my darling baby zipped my zipper DOWN, all the way, til my shirt was completely wide open and I had nary a hand available to cover up. I shoved the baby into his arms, dropped my hot coffee, and scampered away to collect myself. The poor man definitely got a show that day, and probably wasn’t sure if it was Sunday morning in church or Saturday night at the local strip joint!

Shortly thereafter, we moved 1,200 miles away.

*****

“One thing they never tell you about child raising is that for the rest of your life, at the drop of a hat, you are expected to know your child's name and how old he or she is.” – Erma Bombeck

*****

Christmas 2008

Dear Friends,

 

Merry Christmas everyone!    2008 seems to have flown by.  So much happened, and yet so many things remain the same.

 

NKB and BKB are still very active in sports – basketball right now seems to be running our household.  Throughout the year, we also spend a lot of time on the soccer field (BKB), the football field (NKB), the golf course (everyone!), and running.  In last year’s update, I mentioned that NKB was almost as tall as DB… fast forward 12 months and about 2 inches and meet our towering giant.  DB still has the advantage in muscle and weight, but I don’t anticipate that will last either.  NKB is 16, a sophomore, and will soon be driving.  Our sweet BKB, 12 and in 7th grade, is developing her musical talents in addition to sports.  She’s in a few different vocal and musical groups, and in March will participate in a youth musical.

 

DB is still experiencing all the joy and merriment in the financial world with [a very large company], and I continue my work as a technology recruiter.  We had fun together this summer finishing off our basement.  And by “we” I mean DB+KKB+the nice men who came to our house and installed sheetrock.  And by “fun” I mean at least we are still on speaking terms, DB and I (just joking!).  In all seriousness, it was a great family project and the kids helped out too with a lot of the painting and other finish work.

 

In April, my dad went to Heaven, after several years of enduring the after-effects of a stroke.  His lifetime of service and love, gentleness and joy are a lasting legacy. I was so touched to hear from so many different people, sharing stories of how Dad touched their lives.  He was a great mentor and friend, and a lot of folks strove to live by his example, embrace his strong faith, and receive his love.  The world is a better place because of Big Jim.  

 

I’ll leave you with a call to action that our family shares together often.  I don’t know the author, but would give credit if I could.  Our Christmas wish for you is that you read these words, and hopefully they will touch your heart.   If they do, the world will be a better place:

 

"Let us now go forth into the world in peace; to be of good courage; to hold fast to that which is good; to render to no one evil for evil; to strengthen the fainthearted; to support the weak; to help the afflicted; to rejoice in the power of the Holy Spirit."

 

Peace,

 

The family who sits Round the Oak Table

Thanksgiving in our family means food, football and family.   Or if you ask Dougie, it’s football family, and food, in that order.

 We have celebrated some unconventional Thanksgivings.  One year our “turkey dinner” was in fact turkey hot dogs served at Texas Stadium while watching the Cowboys (see? football before food).  Another year, actually a few years in a row, we attended the traditional Oklahoma University – University of Nebraska Friday-after-Thanksgiving game.   We had a good friend who played for Nebraska, and another dear friend who is a HUGE Oklahoma fan, so it was always good times.

 Another year, we enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner while blissfully floating in the Caribbean, no snow, no football, no worries, mon.   A few years back, we had the very exciting opportunity to stay in New York City for Thanksgiving, and enjoyed the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in person, fulfilling a childhood dream of mine; in fact I still get choked up recalling those memories.

 

Of course we’ve also done the traditional meal, with aunts & uncles, cousins, in-laws and more.  One year, very early in our marriage, we went to my aunt’s house, and I believe there were easily 25 or more people there.  That’s the football-watching side of my family, so I knew Dougie would fit right in.  It also happens to be the side of the family with a couple of mildly developmentally disabled cousins, but they’re cool, they’re family, and the fact they’re a little different just is, ya know?  However, remember this was early in our marriage, and Dougie didn’t really know much of the family yet.   Doug’s pretty social, and I wasn’t at all worried about him finding a group of my cousins to bond with, so I just kind of turned him loose and gravitated myself to the kitchen.   It also did not occur to me to point out anyone who was special or different.  Again, they’re just regular folks to me.   A few hours later, I found Doug, who had found the TV, some football, and a group to bond with – Wayne and Larry.   He was on the couch smack dab between the two, neither of whom shower regularly, and both of whom were so excited to be the first cousins to really get to know Doug well.  I think the stack of Coors Light cans on the table in front of them helped the Cowboys/Packers/whatever win that day!    It was a very endearing scene, and the memory of it makes me love Dougie even more.

 ***

So for 2008, we are excited to be at home and sharing the day with some very dear friends, who are practically family to us.  Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, and a few others will grace our table.  Including pecan-gingersnap-caramel-pumpkin cheesecake that is in my fridge right now, just begging me to have one. little. taste. Resistance is futile!

 When I get up early Thursday morning, I will think of my dad, who always made a turkey to take to Grandma’s.  I remember coming downstairs, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and seeing Dad at the kitchen table reading the paper, keeping an eye on the Turkey.

 I also remember the first Thanksgiving I ever hosted.   It was my mom and dad, and Doug’s folks, at our house in Cedar Rapids.  I was nervous at hell, but everything turned out and nobody got sick, so I guess it was fine.  After dinner, Dad and I went on a nice long walk in my neighborhood and he shared some great stories and told me he was very proud of me.  That was the last Thanksgiving before Dad’s stroke, and a memory I cherish. 

 ***

In football news, our household was honored to host the Varsity team last night for a pasta party.  Their final game of the season is tonight.  I lost count around 28 young men, but I think almost the entire time attended.   And man can those boys eat!   They were incredibly polite, cleaned up after themselves, and were in and out of the house by 6:30 pm.  Wait a sec, so some nights I can’t get dinner on the table for my own family before 8 o’clock, but I can feed ~30 hearty eaters as early as 5:30?   Whatever, I have issues ok?

 I am so proud of NKB for his football accomplishments this year.   Doesn’t he look great (#21)?

 ***

 Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare. They are consumed in twelve minutes. Half-times take twelve minutes. This is not coincidence.  – Erma Bombeck

 ***

Happy Thanksgiving friends, kk

The very first “From the Round Oak Table” ever:

 

November 21, 1974

I have a new appreciation for anyone who has ever built a new house and must make all the endless decisions about all the paraphanelia [sic] that goes into a project of this magnitude.

We are redecorating one room – the kitchen.  Just about the time I think I’ve said all that there is to be said on the subject and made all the decisions necessary, the contractor brings up just one more point.  In the past few weeks, I’ve seen the insides of more wholesale and retail establishments then I ever dreamed existed.  And I’m not done yet.  I still have to find the right hinges and knobs to go on the cupboards.  This experience renews my resolution that my next home is going to be a Quonset hut, partitioned by curtains, that I can hose down each week to get rid of the grime and junk.

***

Took three of my kids to see "Benji" this week.  It is a good show… very definitely one of the flicks that all the "anti-porno" advocates are asking for. As I sat enjoying this touching story of a dog's love, I wondered why the theatre built for so many was only one-fifth filled. Why don't the people who yell about an X-rated film, yell louder about a movie like “Benji” so the theatre will really be filled.  Only when movies of this type are supported, will they be produced on a regular basis.

***

A friend of mine helped take a census of Altoona. Being the loving person she is, she not only took the census, but took the time to spend a few extra minutes visiting with people who seemed to need her presence. Result: She told the two gals she prays with each week about some of these people and they are now planning to visit some of the elderly in Altoona and Mitchellville on a regular basis.  Do you know someone in your neighborhood or community that would appreciate a visit from you?

***

Before we buy another car in this household, we will talk to the mechanic who maintains the car.  More and more I am finding out that the salesman is only told the good features of a car… never the bad; therefore he cannot be objective.  The manufacturer of the car I drive is no longer making it in ’75 because of the bugs it has and their inability to get rid of them.  Ugh!!!!! In ’72 when we bought it, the sales man was enthusiastic, but the mechanic hesitant.

***

Several people in Beaver Township were unable to vote in the November 5 election because of a rigid enforcement of a portion of the voter registration law.  It is sad that the instruction to the judges and clerks allowed no leeway.  Many people who had lived in Mitchellville all their lives were denied the right to vote by the election board because they had moved in the precinct since the last election.  The purpose of the portion of the law requiring voters to report changes of address is to prevent fraud… not deny a citizen his vote.

***

Reminisced this week with Mrs. Hibbs of the YWCA (on of Dog Ragan’s daughters) about many of you.  She is a lovely lady.  She still gets the local paper and so keeps up on many of the local doings.  She told me about the first winter they lived in Mitchellville.  Said her dad was going to school and her mom was busy nursing the three kids who had whooping cough.  She remembers really being sick. Isn’t it great to know that in this day and age we can inoculate [sic] our children against whooping cough?

***

We had our first snowfall of significance.  It looks so beautiful in the early morning or late at night.  But I always remember the year we were carrying papers and then it didn’t look good at any hour.  And I think of the school bus drivers who must have those yellow monsters on the road in the nastiest of weather conditions. And I think of the service station operators who get calls to start cards or pull them out of ditches. As the really bad time of year approaches, weather-wise, use caution and sense as you are on the road. And if you are lucky enough to be at home, say an extra prayer for all those who have to be out… especially those serving you.

***

A sympathy award goes to Dr. Ellen of our community who broke her leg recently. She is doing just great and has her own cast now, after spending three days on her living room sofa waiting for the swelling to go down with her daughter’s used cast and an elastic bandage wrapped around her leg.

***

The RAMPAGE from SEP that appears in our paper is quite well done.  Worthy of being read, with Chuck Platter of our community doing some good articles. Also notice that he is not afraid of getting into hot water.

***

If you’ve ever been involved in a heated argument, you will appreciate this joke:  A motorist and his wife had gotten into a violent argument and neither would change his or her side.  They had not spoken for miles when the husband pointed to a mule in a pasture and asked, “Relative of yours?”  “Yes,” she replied, “by marriage.”

***

Keep America beautiful… Smile.

From the archives, Round Oak Table November 19, 1981

Faithful followers, you all know that this site exists because my mom was the ORIGINAL BLOGGER, back before it was even called Blogging. Back before Al Gore invented the internet. Heck, back before e-mail, eBay and YouTube (gasp!). Mom’s weekly column, “From the Round Oak Table” was a lovely little snapshot into our daily lives, and into Mom’s perspective on life. Many, many columns are devoted to political events, encouraging folks toward activism, and even an occasional rant (as we call them today) on people/the government/JPK (Dad)/her lovely children (not me of course) doing one stupid thing or another.

So on Friday, 11/21/08, I will have a very special post for you. I found Mom’s first column ever, and I’ll be posting it Friday… which happens to be the 34th anniversary of the date that first column was published, November 21, 1974. It’s delightful! It’s delicious! It’s de-lovely! Ooo, I digress, sorry. Check back in on Friday for this piece of ROT history.

In the meantime, here’s a quintessential MMK column, from November 19, 1981. Mom talks about her favorite subject, me (just kidding sisters… I know Mom loves you too!), praises our local post office, the recession (THAT one, not THIS one), and offers some great advice on how to dress stylishly without breaking the bank… although the folks at LaCoste might not appreciate it.

As a side note, Mom’s columns often give me insight into things I never knew about her and Dad. There is also a bit in this column about the prison coming to our town. The facility had previously been a juvenile facility for girls, and was later converted into an adult prison. Now in my memory, the prison was not a bad thing, and in fact Dad and Mom volunteered many hours of ministry to the residents there. However, I never knew until exactly today that Mom actually opposed it, initially. I would like to point out that she did not oppose the prison on “not-in-my-backyard” grounds, but rather took the position that more services should be available for youth, to prevent the need for more adult facilities. Good position Mom, I’m proud of you for that one!

******

Without further ado, ROT Nov 19, 1981:

From the Round Oak Table
November 19, 1981

In an effort to understand
big numbers, the sixth grade
math class taught by Mrs.
Ruth Kerby, Mitchellville Elementary,
is collecting pop
bottle caps. Earlier in the year
the goal was 1,000,000 caps.
That has been shaved to
10,000 which is still quite a
lofty number. At this time
they have approximately 2,000
caps. It was Katie's turn to
count bottle caps the other
night and she involved the
whole family. Two thousand
caps weigh about 12 pounds
and fill a large grocery bag
about three-quarters full. Anyone
interested in contributing
to this math project should
contact a student in Mrs.
Kerby's class.
******
If you want overnight service
on first class mail, bring it
to Mitchellville. I recently
mailed a letter to Norwalk at
4:45 p.m. one day and it had
arrived at that destination by
10:00 a.m. the next day. In
contrast my folks, who live on
the west side of Des Moines,
were still waiting on Saturday
for a letter that had been
mailed Wednesday from a
friend on the east side of Des
Moines. Perhaps the river was
too high and couldn't be
forded last week . . . I don't
know. Anyhoo, our local P.O.
personnel deserve thanks for
efficient service.
******
Why a little alligator emblem
sewn on a shirt is so
"necessary" is beyond most
of us, since the cost of these
shirts is so prohibitive to the
ordinary family's budget. But
a group of enterprising young
people have found a way to
beat the cost. They discovered
that a pair of Izod socks is only
$3.00 and each pair sports one
alligator. By carefully removing
that alligator it can be
sewn on a discount store shirt
and thus one has a "preppie,"
"in" shirt at half the cost.
Now who said teens aren't
enterprising and imaginative?
******
It's hard to believe that this
country is in a recession and
times are hard when a major
department store advertises
women's blouses at $100 and
up. That is scandalous, hard
times or not. In the good old
days, J. C. Penney's in
downtown Des Moines was
the best place to buy blouses.
For $3.00 apiece we could
have an oxford cloth shirt for
every day in the week and if
we really wanted something
special, then $5.00 was the
going rate. By the way, this is
an excellent time to clothes
shop — some stores are
practically giving things away.
But as Katie said on a recent
mall trip as we scoured
through clearance racks
“I can see why these things are
on clearance and I hope
somebody named Clarence
comes along and buys them —
I wouldn't."
******
Governor Ray gave the best
argument in the world for
maintaining Mitchellville
Training School as a juvenile
facility. In a speech at a crime
conference he cited statistics
showing juveniles were involved
in a large amount of the
crimes committed in this
state. He didn't go far enough
and suggest ways to prevent
these juveniles, from becoming
adult offenders. Certainly closing
Mitchellville and turning it
into an adult facility doesn't
make a lot of sense to some of
us. Why not expand efforts for
kids instead of cutting? It was
nice of the Legislature to set
up a Commission to study the
best use of our facility; it was
nice of the Commission to
study the problem and listen
to citizens, but many of us feel
the futility of the whole effort.
We know that individual legislators
will still coerce and
bargain to protect their own
turf, disregarding what might
be best for the state as a
whole. It will take legislators
with vision to see things
long-range and do something
positive about juvenile criminals
becoming adult criminals/
Did you ever feel that
Iowa's criminal justice system
is similar to the dog that
chased its tail around in a
circle?
******
The big trouble with people
who believe only half they
hear — is that they usually
believe the wrong half.
MMK

A lesson from Thomas

I had a humbling moment this week, involving a special person I barely know, and it’s weighing heavily on my mind. I think this is God talking to me, trying to teach me a lesson, and I’m working hard to understand it.

Several weeks ago, on a Sunday, I learned that the 8 year old son of an acquaintance had been diagnosed with kidney cancer. On Saturday, the day before. This seemed so sudden and strange and wrong. The kid woke up with a bad tummy ache Saturday morning, they took him to the walk-in clinic, and BOOM cancer. Wait, is this how it goes? One day your life is perfect, your kids are perfect, you’re worried about the economy and the election and mowing the lawn before rain, and then BOOM life is suddenly altered. Candidates, carpools, the weather forecast, your checkbook balance – who gives a crap?? Your baby your BABY is hurting and suddenly nothing else matters.

In August, I did a two week gig as Sunday school teacher, and sweet Thomas and his older brother were in my class. I was instantly captivated by Thomas’s blond curls and easy laughter. Our lesson involved drawing a picture of what makes each of us special. Thomas drew a very excellent ping pong table, and in describing it to the rest of the class he had just a hint of sarcasm to his humor that I loved! Once I put two and two together and realized I knew his mom and dad from the choir, I picked him as my guy to razz a bit – having him demonstrate the “dance” we were doing for the rest of the class, and making him my line leader. Nothing major, but just something a little special.

Just two weeks after that, we learned of his diagnosis, and each Sunday since have continued to pray for Thomas and his entire family. But for me, it’s not just on Sundays, I can’t stop thinking about him. At the grocery store, I wonder if I can pick up his favorite candy bar? In the car on the way to soccer, I think “is he well enough to play outside?” Helping with homework, signing a note to ride the bus home with a friend, sending in treats for a class party, I pause each time to think about Thomas’s life now.

Earlier this week, I had an eye problem that caused severe stay-awake-all-night-in-pain pain for a few nights, and my thoughts again turned to Thomas, at times praying for rest from my own ache and other times offering up my suffering in exchange for Thomas’s. But most of the time reminding myself that what I was going through was nothing compared to what Thomas is dealing with.

I went through the drive-up lane at CVS yesterday to drop off a prescription. I got in the lane, second car back at 5:07. After several minutes, I remarked to BB that those folks in front of us should have gone inside, since they were tying up the drive thru for so long. Several more minutes later, at 5:18 (11 minutes, sheesh!!!), I expressed my impatience by inching up just a bit, and my daughter and I were mutually complaining to each other about the long wait. I’m sure that other driver knew I was back there, and was probably feeling just the right amount of guilt for making me (ME!) wait.

Just one minute later, the CVS clerk handed out a very large shopping bag to the driver of the car in front of me. As she reached forward, I saw her face reflected in the mirror, and realized it was Kate, Thomas’s mother. I could see his tow head in the back seat. I was instantly humbled. MY troubles, MY eleven minutes… they’re nothing in contrast. I am an ass, and God showed me first hand yesterday. I think that’s what He was trying to tell me.

Still searching for answers. Still yearning for guidance. Still praying for Thomas. Won’t you join me?

*****

kk

Daughter BB recently launched a discussion of the word “Antidisestablishmentarianism.” It’s now a staple in her vocabulary repertoire and she’s using it regularly in her school work and social interactions.

Ok, not really. We did discuss the word in the context of taking a really hard vocabulary word and breaking it down to the root word. Anti – dis – establish – ment – arian – ism (English majors out there – I’m quite aware that this probably isn’t properly decoded, thank you very much. Works for me.) This lead to a very interesting discussion of “the establishment.” And boy-howdy are her ears ever alert these days for any references to “they,” as in “the powers that be.” As in “they are tearing up Buckingham Park” or “they rearranged the organic foods section at Stop-n-Shop” or “they added more songs to Rock Band 2.”

So this discussion has caused us to pause and think about who “they” are – to challenge a speaker to define “they,” to question the group-think effect of what “they” say, and to find new ways in our own language to avoid use of an omni-present, all-knowing, Big-Brotherish “they.” For my part, it has caused me to be more thoughtful and precise with word selection.

*****

On the subject of choosing your words wisely...

Many moons ago, when the world was still flat and DB and I were preparing for marriage, we had several lovely pre-marriage counseling sessions with a sweet little Italian woman who’d gone to high school with my mother. Mrs. Cacciatore talked us through communication and commitment, Myers-Briggs personality testing, and shared some sage advice from both her professional training and from her many years of successful marriage and parenting.

A few things stick, even after all this time. First, Dougie is outgoing and social and needs lots of human interaction. I prefer great book or movie and a warm fire. Dougie is energized being out and about with a crowd, while it drains me. The exact opposite is also true – my batteries are recharged by a night in and DB needs an extra boost to make it through. We also learned that the smell of bacon cooking does strange things to a pregnant woman. Don’t ask.

Mrs. Cacciatore also taught us something very interesting about one particular word – YOU. She issued a challenge. Try to make it through an entire day without using the word YOU. You’d be surprised at how hard it is (ha, caught me there, huh?).

Nothing wrong with the word, but in the context of learning to communicate well with a soon-to-be spouse, sometimes it can come off as accusatory, preachy, divisive. Especially as a couple is navigating through their early days.

Did you move my keys?

Are you listening to me?

You’re not listening to me!

Try

I wonder where I put my keys?

Am I speaking loud enough to be heard?

I’m not sure I’m expressing how I really feel.

It’s a challenge, friends. Try going for a day… an hour even, finding OTHER ways to express yourself (dang, did it again!). It might not lead to elimination of the word YOU, but it will help you to think carefully before you speak.

By the way, thanks Mrs. Cacciatore! Still going strong after 17 years!

*****

I don’t know who to thank, or all the mechanics of whether or not it’s a good thing for the US economy, but I’m sure happy to see gas prices that start with $2, rather than $3 or $4 or more… I recently had to get a new vehicle, and the sales person said I should only go with the middle grade gasoline or higher, otherwise it degrades the performance of the engine. Whatever. I’ve only had to get gas once so far, and I did go with the middle button on the gas pump thing, but prices go up again and I’m right back to the low-end stuff.

*****

A huge thank you this week to Dr. P and the makers of Zymar, Vigamox, Polymyxin B-TMP, Cyclopentolate, and Diclofenac eye drops. As a contact lens wearer for more than 20 years, I never had a problem until this week and then WHAM!!! Corneal ulcer. I slept in my contacts – BRIEFLY – on Sunday afternoon, and by Sunday night was in excruciating pain. Under treatment now, but man alive was I ever uncomfortable Sunday through Tuesday. My friend who had this same problem many years ago compared the pain to childbirth, and I totally agree… agonizing, toe-curling CONSTANT pain.

It’s going to take some effort to put contacts back into my eyes – I’ll need to psych myself up for it. In the meantime, get ready for my new KK-does-Sarah-Palin look, friends! I’ll try to avoid the FLDS upswept hair, however.

*****

Big Brother is watching… look busy

*****

kk

Athletic Supporters!

Fall in our household means we turn into athletic supporters. Oh get your minds out of the gutter people - I’m talking about supporting our favorite athletes! Watching games, driving to practices, hosting pasta suppers, tailgating, washing sweaty uniforms and more!

There’s the high school football team (NKB), the travel soccer team (BB), our beloved Iowa Hawkeye football team (regardless of whether they make it to a bowl game or not), fall golf (my favorite), and attendance at or paying attention to a whole bunch of other teams with which we’re not actively involved, just interested.

Now this is quite a departure from my youth. Growing up in a household with four daughters, one mom and one dad meant that there was only a tiny bit of testosterone in our home - and Dad was quite all right with that. Once a year, Dad watched the Iowa/Iowa State wrestling match on IPTV, but other than that, Sunday afternoons meant cooking “Sunday Dinner,” reading, napping, and decidedly NOT hearing the roar of the crowds blaring from the TV. About as close as we got to “sports” was going to Grandma and Grandpa’s for various holidays and the boy cousins would always have pro football on the little TV in the basement. Those gross, icky teenage boys plus Uncle Godfrey’s stinky cigars really turned me against watching sports on TV.

*****

Upon meeting Dougie, my entire universe shifted with regard to sports. DB is completely and totally enthralled with sports of any sort. In our early dating years, I went to visit him at his college, and upon picking me up from the airport, we headed right to a sports bar. My trip was smack dab in the middle of “March Madness” and every game possible was blinking from the 27 TVs hanging from every corner of the place. It was completely bewildering to me. It’s not that I’d never seen a basketball game, I was after all in college and actively watching the Iowa Hawks’ basketball season. I’d just never seen that level of intensity, that fervor, that passion for watching the game.

Like any good sports fan, Dougie is a master of some pretty strange stats and details. You name just about any pro football player, and Doug can tell you not only where the guy went to college and the name of the head coach, but also the player’s high school and in most cases high school coach. He also remembers, in detail, the day we met – but only because it was the same weekend as the great Iowa / Ohio State match up in 1990. Unlike most husbands, however, he’ll never forget my birthday, September 7, as it happens to coincide with the birthday of ESPN. Sigh. Lucky me!

I learned quickly that each season just kind of melts into the next and it never really “ends.” To maintain a little sanity for me, a loose rule in our home is that professional baseball and basketball are taboo. This means that one’s “need” to control the TV remote for an NBA game is never allowed to take priority over a Julia Roberts movie marathon. However, come College Football Game Day or Zach Johnson playing well in any PGA tourney, the power grid in our town dims just a bit due to all 27 TVs in our home on full blast! Dougie is aware that the sports thing, even after 18 years, can sometimes be a bit much, and is careful to balance things out and tone down when he knows I need it.

*****

My favorite part of fall sports is watching my kids. NKB is now in his sixth year of football, second at the high school level. Although the season not officially started yet, it appears he will be Safety on the JV team. He looks so dang BIG out on that field. I mean he is pretty tall to begin with, but once you add the shoulder pads, helmet and foam rubber pieces inside the girdle and pants, he’s just a giant! However, stand him up next to some of the varsity guys and he’s a relative runt! The height is there, but NOT the weight. The kid is 6’2.5” – 160 lbs. dripping wet, playing against guys 220 lbs. or more. Yikes! Did you know it is not possible for a fully-equipped football player to get into a Volkswagen Passat? Trust me on this one folks.

BB is out on the soccer field, and loving every minute. She’s a lefty and that powerful left foot has helped her around an unsuspecting opponent on more than one occasion. Although we’ve swiftly transitioned from soccer to basketball then back to spring soccer each of the past five years with nary a conflict, we might be approaching time to make The Choice: soccer OR basketball? This past spring she tacked on an additional basketball league, which was directly in conflict with soccer April-June. We have just been presented with another basketball opportunity which will conflict with soccer throughout the month of October, and are struggling to decide if she'll play or not. It just might be time to decide which sport she loves more, soccer or basketball? I think I know the answer, but I want her to discover it on her own.

*********

Some people talk about the “over-programming” of kids today. I don’t know if mine are over-programmed or not – and thanks but no thanks, not looking for your opinions on this one. What I do know is that our kids participate in as many activities as they are inclined to and that we can realistically support. We did try hockey, baseball, dancing and piano, and probably a few others over the years. As they get older, there are fewer activities, but perhaps a deeper commitment to each. It's a real joy to watch them develop as athletes. I can't help but get a little lump in my throat every once in a while, seeing them out there on the field.

*********

Birthday shout outs to Al and Mary Pat! Love you both!
*********

"The values learned on the playing field--how to set goals, endure, take criticism and risks, become team players, use our beliefs, stay healthy and deal with stress--prepare us for life."

---Donna de Varona

*********

kk