Favorite Foods..... In Memory

Fiddler and I had a lengthy phone conversation today. We talked about many things including the grave robbers in Chicago. We speculated that most of us will be cremated. Possibly no tombstone will mark our passage. Does that mean we shall pass unnoticed? NO! We want a party when we die. We want all of our favorite foods served at our party. Fiddler gave me a partial list of food that she wants on the "Final Buffet." The last part of our conversation went like this"

Fiddler: Do you think we should put this on the blog? Do you think anyone will respond?

Honor: I think people would like it a lot. I think they would find it interesting. Let's do it.

So I am getting the ball rolling. Here is the food I would like served at my "Transition Party."

1. All kinds of scones
2. Watermelon
3. Honey Dew Melon
4. Roasted vegetables
5. Peanut Butter cookies with Snicker bar inside. Sharon knows how to make these.
6. Hummus and flat bread
7. Falafel and flat bread
8. A savory bean dish ......... the family can choose which dish to fix.
9. Sushi .......There is a sushi place close to where Thomas lives. There is also one in Emporia.
10. Strawberries

This is a partial list. It gives everyone an idea of my tastes. Please serve peach flvored ice tea, also.

Eating someone's favorite foods is a fine way to remember that person.

Final Thought:

Love is the greatest memorial. It lasts long after the tombstone crumbles.

memories

Katie I remember some of your memories about your parents. It's pretty cool. You had fun times. Being able to have fun is a gift your parents gave to you.

On another note, I have had times when I couldn't get on the blog, the screne said that my java script was disabled, somehow it fixes itself. I just thought Matthew was doing something to the computer.

I enjoyed the pictures you sent of everybody Katie. It helps keep everybody close.

35 Years

Today marks 35 years of marriage for my parents. Thirty-five years. Three and a half decades. What an accomplishment! In honor of their commitment to one another and to their family and friends, I am sharing (below) pieces I have written for them over the past couple of years. I hope that you enjoy these glimpses into my parents' lives.

The Nice Guy and the Knockout

(for my parents on their 35th Wedding Anniversary)

Sitting just eight feet from her desk
at The Emporia Gazette
he can’t help but notice her long, lovely legs.
Short skirts are in style in 1973, and she looks darn good in hers.

And she can’t help but notice his good looks
his shy easy smile
His co-workers love him, and he works so well with the kids on the paper route.

Somewhat of a novice to the dating scene,
he is nervous for their first rendezvous,
a double date with a couple from the circulation department—
dinner at the Olpe Chicken House and bowling at Bluestem Bowl.

A year of dating and then in March 1974 a proposal.
At his apartment, watching TV
he muses aloud, “I wonder what it would be like to be married.”
A smile.
A giddy laugh, “Well, why not?”
A trip to Alstaw Jewelry
where Curly Watson cheerfully shows them different settings and cuts.

The ring sized, he brings it to work
puts it on her finger in the break room.
Their co-workers plan a wedding shower for the sweethearts.

Four months later on the evening of July 16,
a wedding celebration at Sacred Heart Church
a reception at Forrens Restaurant.
Friends, family, co-workers, and swimmers attend.
The bride is radiant
the groom handsome and assured.

A honeymoon road trip across the western U.S.
the beginning of a summer tradition
repeated with children, with Grandma Fiddler, with Cousin Alice
with good family friends—sometimes with kids, sometimes without
a yellow Volkswagon, a gray Mazda, a maroon and silver Dodge Caravan, a green Mazda
singing along with Kids Praise, Simon and Garfunkel, and The Fifth Dimension
ogling The King’s house in Memphis, Tennessee
body surfing in Pensacola, Florida
“Oh shit!”-ing on the hills of San Francisco
bicycling in Minaqua, Wisconsin
gorging on lobster in Maine.

Three and a half decades of love and fidelity.
He’s been in love with her, and she’s been in love with him.

He says that he learned years ago that love is a choice, a decision
even for people who genuinely care about one another.
He believes in give and take, acceptance of the whole person
and that laughter is a good thing.

She believes in trying new things, having new experiences together
and maintaining a sense of humor.

For the next thirty-five years
they have similar hopes and goals
health, security, travel, and time with family.

And perhaps he’ll surprise her more often with kind, romantic gestures
and perhaps she’ll respond more often with loving, unsolicited foot massages.

Favorite Memory

(for my mom ... today--this is a revised version of poem I gave her for Mother's Day 2009)

Lifting 5 and 8 pound dumbbells
in my bedroom the summer of my college graduation and wedding
I teach you about lateral raises as the Violent Femmes “Add it Up”

Why can’t I get just one kiss?
Why can’t I get just one kiss?

Raising the 8 pounders out to your sides, straight armed
you are stronger than you look
deltoids softly curving over your shoulders

Your eyes meet mine in the dresser mirror as kiss is replaced by another, more vulgar, word

Feigned shock turns to laughter
Nothing surprises you
after years in student health
Growing Up a Good Time
condom water balloons and condom-wrapped cantaloupes

You were always the one who taught me the intended and suggestive
meanings of lyrics to my favorite songs.

As the music becomes more aggressive
weight-lifting gives way to dancing as dumbbells are pushed under the bed
and suddenly-light arms wave freely

We sing along—you learn the words quickly

Don’t shoot shoot shoot that thing at me!
Don’t shoot shoot shoot that thing at me!

We dance, jumping and thrashing
breathless with laughter
eyes closed as the guitar solo twangs and jangles to the quickening beat of the drums

We dance, primitively
light fixtures and window panes trembling above and below our rhythmic stomping

We dance
eyes opening, meeting again in my dresser mirror
cheeks flushed, girlish
blue eyes sparkling through laughing tears
we revel in this moment
and in each other

Water Rocket

(for my dad on Father's Day 2009)

Family vacation. 6:30 p.m. I am seven or eight years old, and we are horsing around in a motel pool. You’re tossing Andy and me high into the air while Mom watches from the concrete deck, towels and clothing heaped in piles around her.

Your dark hair is disheveled, and your eyes look different without your glasses, but your mouth is smiling as you whoop, yelp and holler, adding just the right sound effects for our lift offs.

I remember one toss in particular:

After the launch into the air and splash landing, I—very sneakily—let myself sink to the bottom, expelling enough air so that I stay submerged, eager to impress you and Andy with my amphibious powers.

When I can’t hold my breath any longer, I push off hard—as I will later do off walls during swim practice and meets—and break the water’s surface with enough force that, had all gone according to plan, I would have cleared the water to at least mid-thigh.

But all does not go according to plan.

Perhaps you are worried that you’ve thrown your only daughter too high or too hard. Perhaps Andy whines a little as you unwrap his arms from your neck, his brown eel body wriggling with impatience that his turn has been interrupted.

Had my eyes not been squeezed tight against the chlorine, perhaps I would have seen your strong legs moving easily and swiftly through the heavy water, pausing just inches from my coiled body.

While peering over my aquatic launch pad, you do not react quickly enough to my sudden, thrilling explosion from the water’s depths, and the top of my head connects squarely with your chin.

Surprise.
Throbbing, white hot pain.

And here’s what I do not remember: I do not remember your being upset with me or punishing me for my asinine stunt. I only remember you, clutching your chin, fingers turning pink with diluted blood, reaching out to see if I was okay, even though I’m quite sure your injuries were more severe than mine.

My Best Teacher

(for my mom on Mother's Day 2008)

Grammar in Context

Lounging in the king-size bed you share with Dad,
the sheets cool against by skin,
you teach me about strong verbs.
Avoid forms of “to be,” you say.
Together we look at my writing, and you circle all the
is’s, am’s, are’s, was’s, were’s, has been’s, have been’s
in my paper.
You tell me to choose more specific verbs
like saunter, indulge, doze, chortle, grimace, and bellow.
This lesson is repeated years later
in my graduate writing courses
and in my own teaching.


Music Education

Andy and I sprawl out on the yellow living room carpet
as you lay the needle carefully into the groove,
the crackling distinct on the stereo speakers,
and you share with us
your first loves
John Lennon, Iron Butterfly, and the James Gang.


Geography

Drawing a map,
you carefully explain the best route
to get to our hometown church,
because though we’ve been to Mass
every weekend
for the past 16 years,
sometimes by car, sometimes by bike,
I have no idea
how to get there.


Advanced Geography

You
my patient, attentive passenger on two road trips into the great wide open
first to Arizona
across sun baked I-40,
through the Petrified Forest, Painted Cliffs, pine trees and palm trees
and three years later to Georgia
across rain soaked I-24,
past the Grand Ole Opry, blue grass, and the Chattahoochee.
Both times in an F-150
that I didn’t really feel all that comfortable driving
And so you checked my blind spot for every lane change,
assured me that it was safe,
laughing contentedly on long stretches of endless highway
while Josh Groban, MxPx, and classic rock played in the background.




Driver’s Ed

You drove the stick shift more jauntily than Dad,
the tell-tale head nod of the passengers,
signaling the not always smooth transition
from one gear to the next.
You taught me to master the clutch in my empty high school parking lot
and on gravel roads outside of town.
The test always came on our drive back into town
when I made the left turn
on an incline
from a stand still
in front of oncoming cars.

When I Think of You

(for my dad on Father’s Day 2008)

I think of ...

Plaid.
Dr. Pepper.
Toothpicks.
Sloppy Joes.
Butterfingers.
Lemon meringue pie.
Mesh hats and mowing.
Eye-rolling puns that my husband adores.
Burgers and onion rings at the Chuckbox in Tempe.
Naps in front of TV game shows in the heat of the afternoon.


And I think of you ...

... in your stroke judge whites,
confidently identifying the DQ and
gently informing the swimmer of his infraction.

... cruising fourth on our family bike rides around Emporia,
calling out to the three of us when cars approached from behind and
confirming that it was safe for us to make left hand turns.

... driving to Colorado and gamely taking up the rear of the swim team caravan,
entertaining me and Andy with protests of “GREEEETTTTLLE!”
every time the red car in front of us crossed over the yellow line.

... transforming the top of our driveway into a two-square court,
laying the garden hose in a rectangular shape, intersected by a 4x4 from the garage.
You were the king of the power shot,
a low-flying zinger that skimmed over the 4x4
and bounced so close to the back hose border
your opponents assumed it would be an “out.”
It never was.
But your modesty and your tendency to let us win every now and then kept us—
and all the neighborhood kids—
coming back for more.

Homesick

I had lots of fun in Emporia when I was there recently. Jacob can express his opinions more easily now. He is so sweet. Beth drove Jacob and I to KC last Wednesday for a quick peek at Isaiah. Isaiah is growing and getting stronger. He recognises his parents and has a very expressive face. I had good talks with Tom and Carol and Peter and Beth. Sometimes, at family get togethers, there is not enough time to really visit with people. Peter and I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. That movie is long but interesting. The Proposal, which I saw with Beth, was very funny.

In fact, I enjoyed my stay so much in Emporia that it was a real shock to my system to return home. I was sad and out of sorts for several days after my return to Hays. I got used to seeing this little smiling face who said, "I love you Grandma." The first night home I dreamed about Jacob and woke up feeling surprised I was not still in Emporia. The first two mornings after my return I felt slightly disoriented and sad when I realized I would not get to see that shining smile for awhile and hear Jacob's sweet voice. Of course, Jacob's mommy has a special place in my heart too. My whole extended family is special to me.

Then I discovered these words from "The Little Prince" online. "The Little Prince" is a child's fable written by Antoine de Saint Exupery. (Copyright 1943) These are the words that caught my eye.

"What must I do to tame you?" asked the little prince.

"You must be very patient," replied the fox. 'First you will sit down a little distance from me - like that - in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day..."

When I read that excerpt, I realized that I had to tame myself. I had to pull my head out and appreciate each day for itself. Life is not a constant holiday. In life, we are called to be flexible and practical. Even though I cannot always be physically close to my family, I can be close in spirit. The distance between us makes the time we spend together that much sweeter.

As the fox says, we must be patient. I guess that includes being patient with ourselves as well as with others. I am over my funk and I am enjoying life again. Yesterday, I attempted to make sushi. The results were not a rousing success, but at least I made a start.

Once again, I am thankful for this blog as a means of keeping in touch. The hummus discussion was fun. I wish more people would contribute...... Thanks again for the opportunity to converse through our posts, Katie.

Hummus

Beth and Honor, thanks for your replies to my post. :) I'm glad you two had a nice time visiting together, and I'm glad you enjoyed some of Beth's homemade hummus!!

Beth, you actually answered a question I had today ... I was at Wal-Mart, trying to decide between a $10 food chopper and a $30 food processor. I eventually decided to purchase neither and do some research. From what you're saying it sounds like the food chopper will do the trick with the hummus.

Also, my friend said I can just make hummus with some chick peas/garbanzo beans, olive oil, garlic, and maybe some cumin or other spices. I've also been checking out recipes on Allrecipes.com. What do you like to put in your hummus??

Can't remember if I mentioned this or not, but I made some kick-ass tabbouleh last weekend, and even though it tasted a little too salty at first, it actually ended up tasting really good the longer it sat in the fridge (I took some in my lunch every day).

I'm learning to be a cook, everyone!!! Finally, I'm taking after the rest of my Fiddler Kin. It's about darn time, too.

Hello, July.

Hey, ya'll.

What's shakin'? How are my Fiddler Kin in the Midwest? How's new baby Isaiah? What about cutie pie Jacob?

Things are fine here. Trent should learn the date of his shoulder surgery in the next few days; it's been a slllloooooooww process with the government, but he's been keeping tabs on all the paperwork and making several calls a day to his doctor, the Department of Labor, and a third-party billing/processing company. In fact, his birthday (yesterday) was filled with such calls.

Teaching continues to go well this summer. My students are smart, and their writing fills me with joy. The grading and responding is time-consuming, but at least it's good reading.

Two Saturdays ago, Trent's friend Marcus joined us for a bike ride and grilling on the back porch, and last Saturday, I went for a bike ride with my friend Jen and then had some girlfriends over for our almost-monthly girls' night. I made tabbouleh, brushetta, and fresh fruit salad. One of my friends brought homemade hummus; I'm seriously thinking about getting a food processor so I can make my own hummus too. It was a tasty meal.

I'm also back to playing the piano after acquiring a digital piano a few weeks ago. Yay!

Trent's at the end of a 10-game homestand and (supposedly) doesn't have to work this weekend. I'm looking forward to spending some time with him ... a picnic and fireworks, perhaps, on Saturday.

I hope you all are well.