THINGS I LEARNED CAMPING

I just spent four wonderful days camping.  It was a fun experience traveling with an experienced camper who was good at guiding me through things I needed to know. There were a few things I discovered on my own, so I thought I would share what I have learned. 

Always plan for rain.  One towel for four days is not enough with rain in the forecast and no chance for a towel to dry out between uses.  I did discover how much a towel can still soak up when wet though.  

 I learned that white sneakers and camping are not a good combination!

I learned that sleeping in a sleeping bag in 51-degree temperatures is not bad at all once it warmed up.  Of course, it would have been nice if the camping buddy would have warmed up the bag before I got in it!!

I learned that when damp, cool nights settle in, finding a form of exercise to warm up, the body helped a lot.  We did do some nice evening walks and discovered some beautiful animal sightings and scenes along the stroll.  Although there were many ways to exercise walking was pleasant.

I learned to make sure whatever bottoms I wear should be short enough to not touch the wet grass on those middle-of-the-night runs to the bathroom.  Soggy bottoms are uncomfortable when crawling back into the sleeping bag.

I also learned to make sure to spot the campsite before heading into the bathroom on those late night runs…I stepped out the first night and got turned around and could not find the camper.  I had a flashlight but turned it off as I didn’t want to be taken for a stalker as I looked to return to the campsite.

I learned that camping with a boy scout—always prepared—is good except when he couldn’t remember where “it” is.  That is when it became a giggle session…for me at least!

This camping trip taught me a few other things too.  Like Connecticut only has 25 letters in their alphabet.  It happened when I heard the word “liquish.”  “Liquish,” I asked.  What is liquish?  “You know,” he said, “like the candy.”  “Oh…you mean licorice.”  That’s when I realized they lost the “R's.”  

I also learned about “bibbits” and whole bellies.  I was told whole bellies are the ones with the bibbit.  I had no idea what Dave was talking about, and all I could do was giggle because it sounded funny. I did taste a “whole belly.”  I had one.  It had a soft mushy part.  

It was fun learning first hand that Connecticut people have an incredible sense of humor.  How you ask?  Well, what do you think with road names like Blueberry Hill, Honeyspot Lane, Tootin Hill Road, Fresh Kill Road or Lovers Lane? That made me wonder how many unusual street names there are around us…and how lucky to live on one of those streets!

The best thing I learned from the camping trip is to pick a guide who knows his way around and can make it fun, even when he knew but couldn’t remember.  Many conversations went like this.  

“How would you like to go (pick a place)?”  

“Oh that sounds like fun,” I would reply.

“Okay, I think we go this way, I can’t quite remember, but it will come to me.”

“Do you want me to plug it into WAZE?” I would ask.

“That would be good.”

So I would look up the address, and WAZE would get us going in the right direction.

“Is WAZE telling us to turn here?” he would ask?

“Yep.” 

“Oh don’t turn there, go straight” he would say, and WAZE would adjust, and onward we would go.  

We always got there despite feeling lost from time to time, and once we arrived, he would remember. When we arrived at Mystic Seaport, we spotted an old Indian Guide and stopped to check him out.  In the course of conversation and the sharing of our travels, the old Indian guide soon informed Dave that he was the long-lost ancestor of his tribe, the Fagarwees.  He shared some old tales of travel of the tribe, and soon Dave recognized his place among his Indian ancestors.

So if you are lucky enough one day to find yourself lost with Dave by your side, trust you are in good hands.  You only need turn to him and ask, “Where the Fagarwee?”

IT WAS GOOD WHILE IT LASTED!

Joe Hart, best man, Lucyann Eyre, Maid of Honor, Me and Pat
at the home on Cressman Road where we held our reception.

As some of you have recognized from my last few writings I have been on a melancholy journey lately.  It is because for many in this stage of life this would be a journey of celebration…fifty years of anything would be worth celebrating, but I’ll miss the joy of celebrating those 50 years with my best friend. This would have been the year. 

It all happened so fast.  Our first date in June.  Engaged in August.  Met the new in-laws in September.  Moved to Pennsylvania in October.  Married in November.  So this time of year is finding me looking back and remembering the good times and feeling amazed at how fast the time has passed.  

Today I took a road trip to all the places I have lived since moving to Pennsylvania in 1966.  My first stop was on Cressman Road in Harleysville.    We left Illinois, pulling a U-haul trailer behind my 1966 VW (yes I said pull a fully loaded trailer behind the VW).  We could not travel faster than 40 MPH and that was downhill.  Driving from Ingleside to Harleysville at that speed made for a long slow trip.  Being a new convert to my faith, when Pat asked if we could stop at a hotel about half way there, I asked if he could promise to be “good”.  “I can’t promise that,” he said.  “Keep on driving then,” I said, and we did, 23 total hours from Ingleside to Harleysville.  When we pulled into the driveway, Pat got out, walked through the door with me following close behind, and he turned to his Mom and said, “Take care of Marlene Mom, I am tired and going to bed.”  There I was standing in the doorway, with my new family that I had just met 3 weeks earlier.

I shared Lucyann’s bedroom until our marriage on Thanksgiving Day.  We were perfect roommates.  We both were good at hiding our dirty laundry under our bed.  It was also the place where I began to learn about unconditional love and it’s true meaning.  I was a young woman with not a lot of female guidance from my own mother, so I entered this family like a waif from the wrong side of the tracks.  I learned this when my husband’s grandmother who lived with my widowed mother-in-law, did my laundry and discovered my less than perfect lingerie.  Shocked that I would become a bride with such garments, she grabbed everything out of my drawers and threw it all away.  By the time she thought of what she had done the trash man had come and emptied the trash cans.  

When I returned from work, I was met at the door by a nervous grandmother who guided me to her room and explained what she had done while slipping some money into my hands telling me I needed to go out that night and replace what had been discarded for all I had left was what I was wearing.  

I slipped up to my bedroom and burying my face into the pillow crying with embarrassment, wanting to run away but couldn’t because I had nowhere to go.  This turned out to be a good thing in the end.  When Pat came in from his job, he was told what had happened and finding me crying up in my room, explained for the first of many times to me that when someone does something out of love, I could not get mad.  “If she did not love you,” he said, “she would not have cared.”

Our first apartment was at Pennbrooke Apartments in Lansdale.  I remembered when we got the apartment Nov 1st.  We had less than three weeks to gather the things we needed to set up our first home.  Garage sales and auctions allowed for some good finds.  An old bed from the house, a table from Uncles Bob and Ed set us up for a good start.  We didn’t have much, but we didn’t need much.  We had each other and it was fun.  I remember one night we had gone over to the apartment to set up the kitchen.  After awhile, the apartment manager came knocking on the door with a message from Pat’s mother.  She thought we were there just a little bit too long and thought it time we return to the house.  This made for a good story on more than one occasion during our lifetime.

A year later we found a cheap, $55 a month apartment on Morwood Road in Telford.  A downstairs, one bedroom apartment in the country.  We could have a dog.  It was a small place, yet we had Damian while there and became pregnant with our second son, Justin.  Pat and I actually argued about moving.  Pat wanted to stay…after all who wanted to give up $55 a month?

Our third home was on Trumbauersville Road in Quakertown.  A 3 bedroom rental house allowed us to grow our family that at this time included Joliene.  It was here that we took in our first house guests.  Fresh Air Children from the city for two weeks.  This turned out to cause trouble with our landlord.  They were  black.  He did not like that.  Although we enjoyed having Keven and Michael in our family for two weeks, when the next summer came we were asked by the landlord to not bring the kids out again.  He felt that he was being blamed for having the first blacks in the area and he said if we respected him we would not do it.  It was an awful time for us, for we loved the family we grew to know and wanted them to return to our house.  So we left there and bought our first home on Portzer Road in Quakertown and our first guests were the whole Edwards family.

We lived on Portzer Road for 13 years.  Our family grew by one more, Aaron.  Family picnics, holiday parties, yard sales, and great neighbors made this a hard place to move from.  But when your oldest son could not stand up straight in their bedroom on the second floor (we lived in a cape cod style home with a slanted room upstairs) it was time to move.

We soon found ourselves on East Market Street in Perkasie.  Pat and I knew from the moment we crossed the threshold of this house that this was home.  It took awhile for the kids to adjust to the new school and neighborhood, but the family time at this place was perfect in many ways.  We always seem to find room for those needing a bed and place to stay  until they got  back up on their feet.  In fact, one time we found the kids had put a sign up on our bedroom door, “Boarding House Managers Sleep Here.”  

In the 18 years we lived there we had the following people live with us at one time or another:  Oko (a Japanese exchange student), Little Rich, Big Rich, Penny, Brandon, Tyler, my Dad, my mother-in-law,  Denise,  and Dawn (a woman of many personalities).  The first summer we moved into the house,  Damian’s friend Carl, lived with us all summer causing us to explain to the neighbors that all the kids did not belong to us.  It was a sad moment when I recognized due to Pat’s illness that we could no longer stay in this home of many memories, and we moved to where I am now, a 55 plus community in Buckingham.  

This last move was a bittersweet move.  It was good to downsize.  Taking care of a large home and yard by myself was beginning to weigh on me.  Moving here was a form of relief even when it did also mean that Pat was ill and could no longer do steps.  I knew when I moved in here that this would not be my last home but it has been a great place to be, especially with the outreach during Pat’s illness and eventual death.  

But it is time for me to move on.  I can look back at each one of the homes I have lived and remember the good moments and happy memories.  For this I am grateful.  But, as I once said to one of my sons, "I am not dead yet."  I do have a life to live and I am working to make the best of it. Even when my thoughts fill me with what once was, I know that I am grateful for all that it has been.  

My life with Pat was more than I ever imagined it could be.  And because of our life, I know that if I remain open to all possibilities, it could happen again.  I just have to get in touch with that spirit within me that directed me to take a chance all those years ago and not be afraid.

But damn…it sure was good while it lasted!

DREAMS DO COME TRUE!

Jimmy Johnson's 10th Career Win at Dover!

Ever since Pat passed away I would shout out to the universe that I would buy the tickets if anyone was interested in attending an NASCAR race with me.  This year, my youngest son and his family gave me the trip as my birthday present.  We went to Dover yesterday and watched Jimmy Johnson win for the 10th time in his career at Dover!  If there was a first-time track to attend, I must say, this sure was a good choice!

The noise was incredible—thank God for earphones!  The body vibrations that were felt as 43 cars went flying by was unbelievable.  Watching seasoned fans was pure comedy!  

It was hot, but it could have been hotter!  Although we sat in the sun, a regular coating of sunscreen and hats kept us from getting burned.  By the end of the day, I did feel somewhat like a baked potato covered in grease and the shower I jumped into when I got home was refreshing!

I want to say something about my two young grandchildren who attended the race with me.  They were 6 and 9.  Although about half way through the race they began to ask about when they could go home, they were beyond wonderful at allowing the adults around them to enjoy the day.  They were so good that even another attendee of the race, seeing them seek refuge from the sun under the bleachers bought them ice cream.  As he handed the ice cream to Kelly, he just tipped his hat and walked away!  A sweet pay-it-forward moment!

Attending the race provided many entertaining opportunities.  From the skywriting planes to the parachute jumpers, to the fireworks and the entertainment….the day was filled with head-turning events and we didn’t even see it all!

Watching the seasoned fans provided its own share of funny entertaining memories.  There was the guy whose arms were burnt from the elbow down making the whiteness of his elbows up appear in stark contrast.  As we walked by he was lathering up the red part of his arms but exposing his chest and upper arms to the sun telling his buddies this would allow his burn to even out!  By the end of the day, I wondered if the exposed sunburned beer bellies or the hangovers would cause more pain!

There was the typical fan crazed moments of booing and screaming even though the noise level in the stands only allowed for the wild body animation of movement to interpret the moment!  Decked out in fan shirts, hats and pins, the stands were alive with energy and enthusiasm.  I loved it all!

Thank you, Aaron, Kelly, Scott, Hayden and Ella for giving me another wonderful moment to treasure in my lifetime of memories!

BUTTER VS BUTTER

THIS?

 I am not myself lately.  The last 48 hours have brought to me a small medical issue.  Nothing to take me down but just make me goofy….you know what I mean.  You are okay, but maybe just not thinking as clearly as you normally do.  Then for some (like my kids) that could be a hot topic of debate—thinking clearly that is!

Anyway, yesterday as I was returning home from a blood test, I decided to not go to the regular grocery store but instead headed to None Such, a local farmers market close to my home.  It would allow me to get in, get out and head home where I really just wanted to hole up, read a good book, and listen to some music to soothe my soul.

NOPE, THIS!

Armed with a grocery list my daughter gave me, I went and began to shop.  On the list was “almond butter.”  Something we have all the time.  But for whatever reason, in my brain, I am thinking “butter” like from the cows.  So I begin to search.  The cooler, the freezer, the gourmet section.  I go from one end of this place to the other.  Do you think I can find this almond butter?  Nope.  So I resort to asking the sweet person shelving goods, 

“Excuse me,” I begin.  “Do you know if you have any almond butter in the house?  I have searched the coolers where there are all kinds of butter, but I can’t find the almond butter.”

She pauses, puzzling my question, “Let me check.”

We walk to the cooler and now both of us are searching.  We walk around to the frozen gourmet section thinking that it might be rare and to keep fresh it might be there.  Nope, it wasn’t there.  I followed her around back to the refrigeration section one more time when I turned to the shelf behind us and saw…Almond Butter…next to the peanut butter.

“Oh my God,” I said.  “I can’t believe my stupidity!”

“Oh don’t feel bad,” she said.  “I was along for the ride with you!”

“I don’t mind sharing stupid,” I said laughing, “makes me feel like I am not alone!”

Both laughing now, I thanked her, we hugged and went on our way.

It is times like these that I examine if it is my age or my momentary bout of sickness that brought me here.  God, I hope it is the second reason.  I have too long to go to lose my mind at this point!  

I’m going now…you’ll find me on the back deck, feet up, book in hand, music and the birds entertaining me, waiting for my clear-headed thinking to return!  

LAKE WALLENPAUPACK MEMORIES

Wallenpaupack on a cloudy day in April

As I traveled the winding road along the Delaware River, heading up to Wallenpaupack to help a friend prepare for her husband’s memorial, I was surrounded by memories of a lifetime of visits to the area with Pat and the kids to fish and camp on the Lake.  

I found myself smiling as I remembered the time we camped in Wilsonville 150 campfires downwind, setting our tent on a rock which did not bode well for a good nights sleep and my son Aaron, who, during the night, upon hitting his head on the tent thought he was in the bathroom and proceeded to spray us all with his night time pee.  Pat jumped up, simultaneously, grabbing Aaron around his neck while unzipping the tent throwing him outside.  Aaron, who was still in a sleep state, woke up crying asking why we were throwing him out of the tent.  It may not have been funny at 3 a.m. but for years we got a great laugh at telling the story.  

Pat was serious about his fishing, yet carried the burden well of our different approaches.  My idea of fishing was putting a bobber at the end of the pole, reading a good book while glancing occasionally at the bobber looking for any sign of fish activity.  He on the other hand, worked very hard at the leisure art of fishing.  Before he put a foot in the boat, he knew the weather conditions, what color lure would/could be used to draw in the the fish, what temperature the water was, what the feeding pattern of the fish should be, how deep they should be and where they would be hiding by the contour of the waterways.  I was exhausted just waiting for him to finally get into the boat and make our way out in the water.  We did, just as the light of dawn filled the morning sky.

One time while he and I took our different approaches out to the lake, we motored along searching for the perfect cove to anchor the boat.  My job was to lower the anchor, bait my hook, drop it into the water, settle back, pick up my book and wait for the action.  While I did my part, Pat was at the other end of the boat tossing out his line, reeling it back in, tossing it out, reeling it back in….when at the moment I would finally settle in he would announce that he wanted to try a different spot.  So huffing, I would put down my book, reel in my line, pull up the anchor and settle back until we landed in the next “perfect” spot.

Once again, I would lower the anchor, bait my line with a worm (yes I used the real thing while he used artificial), settle into my chair, pick up my book while at the front of the boat, Pat would be casting out, reeling in, casting out, reeling in and again, just as I was settling down to enjoy my surroundings he would announce he wanted to move.  HUFFING…I would once again, reverse my actions until I settled back and waited until we arrived at the next “perfect” spot he would choose and once again the same routine.

This went on for about five times before we landed in a spot where my patience was running out with all the doing and undoing going on, and Pat was losing his patience with my impatience.  I threw out my line, got a hit on my lure, pulled up the line and lost a very big fish.  “Damn”, I shouted while slamming my foot on the floor of the boat causing a vibration that rang through the water.  

“Are you kidding me?” Pat shouted with frustration.  “You just scared all the fish away!”  With that we pulled up everything and headed home for the day recognizing that for Pat, I was better off on the shoreline with my bobber, chair, and good book while he went about his work searching for the perfect fishing spot in the boat.

As I drove by Fairview Lake (which is right next to Lake Wallenpaupack), I remembered the time Pat and I went fishing and this time all I took was a book and a lounge chair, allowing him to do all the work.  Soon, the slapping sounds of the water along the boat, and the gentle rocking of the boat lured me to sleep.  Pat, busy with his fishing, didn’t notice that I had fallen asleep in the sun and just when the fishing started to get good, he turned and saw that I had developed what turned out to be the worse sunburn I ever had.  Torn between just one more throw and getting me to shore out of the the sun, we went in and headed home.  Always loving yet filled with disappointment because he knew it was just about to get good, our trips together always provided fodder for the storytelling that would follow for years!

Wandering the roads around the lakes reminded me of a life lived fully, lovingly, if not perfect…but always forgiving.  I am lucky for these memories.  They are what carry me when I feel lost or lonely in my day, as I am reminded that I once had it all, which is a lot more than I can say for many I know.  Because through it all, there was not one moment…not even in the anger and frustration of living and lost expectations, that I did not feel loved and for that I am forever grateful.

STORYCORP.ME

I am the gatherer of stories—the memoirist, the family historian.  My favorite past time is asking people about their life and listening to their story.  We all have one you know.  We may not be rich and famous, but we still have the life we lived, filled with our own personal challenges, successes, and our own observations on how to do it better. 

There is something beautiful about the ordinary.  The simplicity of living.  The ability to find happiness where we stand.  Peel back all the material things in life and what do you find?  Us…all of us…the same in so many ways.  Which is why I find the project by the American Folklife Center interesting.  StoryCorp.me is a beta application released to enable anyone to interview others on their life story, asking questions like “What are your dreams for me?” (assuming here it is a child asking a parent or grandparent).  “What person influenced you the most in your life?”  “What is your earliest memory?”  

StoryCorp through the American Folklife Center is archiving these interviews at the Library of Congress to enable sharing of the human experience for generations to come.

There is a browse section on the application where you can listen to the latest uploaded interviews and I found the conversations fascinating between child and parent or grandparent.  Just the fact that so many young people are taking up this activity, tells me that our youth, who we too often perceive as not caring or are uninterested, are truly interested in the stories we have to tell.  So often through the interview you hear the young person say, “I didn’t know that.  Wow that is cool, or Wow that is interesting.”  And most often it is followed by, “I am so glad you shared that with me.”

One daughter and father were taping their interview at 4 in the morning!  But listening to them banter back and forth told me that this moment would be a precious memory in the life of the young women interviewing her father.  

Another interview was a young man interviewing his 94 year old neighbor.  You could hear through the conversations how the young man and his family had bonded with this 94 year old man and how important they had become to each other’s well being.  Simple lives, led in simple ways but providing profound outcomes for each.

Yes, I love to hear the stories of how others have lived, loved, and faced their challenges.  It lets me know that what I am thinking, feeling, and doing, may be ordinary, but it is my ordinary…and that is good.

So tell me, what is your earliest memory?

Post Script:  StoryCorp.me is a free application that you can load on your phone, IPad, or computer.  Do yourself a favor, download it and hand it off to your kids and see what conversations you can start.  I promise, you will be glad you did!