Memorial Day 2010

While Doc. B. has been fully immersed in war and her family’s service to our country (including a recent trip to Vietnam), I look back on what I know of my family history and there’s nothing, zilch, nada, zip.

Now, Dad, I’m TOTALLY NOT downplaying your service in the National Guard. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have Mitt’s dad, Michigan Governor George Romney, call you to the 1967 Detroit riots to even attempt to “keep the peace.” 43 dead, almost 500 injured, over 7000 arrested, and 2000+ buildings burned. From what I understand, the whole thing started after a celebratory party for two returning Vietnam Vets. Willie Horton, after playing in a Detroit Tigers game, even tried to calm the crowds, but to no avail. I know my dad’s role was to transport prisoners from Detroit to the prison in Jackson, Michigan (how come prisons are always in Jackson?). I hope he was never in harm’s way, and if he was, he never described it as such.


But beyond my dad’s National Guard service, I don’t know that any of my family members served in a war/conflict. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it just seems curious to me. It’s for sure on my list of research items. If nothing else, perhaps it explains my distaste for conflict?

Go hug a Vet while you are eating your burger and chips! Hugs to you all!

It's in the Blood

Many of you have asked me about the "ubiquitous fruit crates" that I mentioned in a recent post. Well, the above picture about sums it up. This is a picture of my young father down on the farm, moving crates full of fruit (thus the term fruit crate). My Dad is a retired 36th generation fruit farmer (okay, maybe only like 6th generation or something like that). He retired at the ripe (get it, ripe, as in ripe fruit?) old age of (approximately) 21, when he got his college degree from Michigan State University (Go Spartans!). Okay, I guess I'm done with parentheticals this go around. Who knew he could drive a tractor? I guess I should have known given the fact that my quadruplet cousins were driving tractors by about the age of two.
Fruit crates are a part of my life. In our clan, they are considered high-end shelving units. I'm sure I had my stereo system, eight track player included, loaded onto a fruit crate stand at one time or another. And they made the perfect storage container for all of my albums and 45’s. When I moved to my college dormitory room, I loaded my life into fruit crates. And now in my adult life, fruit crates are on the workbench holding tools, in the basement holding emergency food rations, and in the shed holding lord knows what (that shed needs a good cleaning).

Fruit crates are obviously in my blood. I wonder what else is in my blood. Hmm…old homes.

My Dad had me stripping wallpaper in 100 year old Victorian houses since before I could walk.  His idea of a great weekend was climbing up a ladder to scrape exterior paint (he did one side of the house per year as I recall - I'm sure he'll correct me if I'm wrong).  And while Victorian homes are grand and beautiful and I grew up in one, my true love is the 1920’s Arts and Crafts era homes. We now live in one such home, and below is the house my mother grew up in. Guess it makes sense that old homes are also in my blood.

What’s in your blood?

Buddha Belly

"Love the whole world as a mother loves her only child." Quote from Buddha.

Clearly, I was my mother's only child at this point in my life.  The three children that came later were never this chunky!

Given this snapshot, one would think I'd have had my come to Buddha moment much earlier in life. I might as well have been the Buddha's child except for the enlightenment part that wasn't there then and ain't there now. And look, I'm already working toward half lotus before my first birthday!

All Buddha talk aside, I absolutely LOVE this picture of my mother and me.  Isn't it cool how I'm looking at her while she's looking at the camera.  There was no need for her to keep an eye on me because I certainly would have floated if I'd fallen out of the boat.  It was taken at my grandparents’ camp at Stoner Lake in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. It was the first of my many trips from the Midwest “back east”. My Mom tells me that during this trip, she and Dad went to the New York World’s Fair – and recently, they gifted me the tumblers they purchased while there (pictured below). Bet those glasses never had sangria in them until they came to Atlanta.

While Mom and Dad went to the fair, they entrusted their first born with my Mom’s parents in Delmar, New York. My Mom recalls leaving one of her now infamous "notes" (that were really pages and pages of instructions) in a stack of diapers so that my grandparents would know what the heck to do with this roly poly baby. I wonder if she was still writing out those long notes by the time my youngest sister arrived?  I think post-its were invented by then.

How about a couple of quotes from Buddha to wrap this up…

"When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky"

(The only time I remember tilting my head back and laughing at the sky was the day I realized how crazy everything was!)

"To keep the body in good health is a duty...otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear"

(Guess I better work on this – my belly is looking like the Buddha’s again. And who knows how often I can count my mind as being strong and clear other then when I’m deciding which bottle of wine to buy?)