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I loved my grandmother. My grandparents lived in the house next door. I saw her every day, and often spent the night, sleeping with her in their double bed. Granddad liked to sleep on the adjoining back porch with all the windows open; a cross breeze blowing, summer and winter.

It was bedtime, and we always had something good to eat before saying my prayers and climbing in to that big, comfy bed..... I wanted donuts, demanded donuts, and remember crying because there were none, and throwing a fit like a spoiled eight year old. But I had to settle for Gramma's favorite: cottage cheese, with sugar and cream and nutmeg on it. I liked it because she did.

Next morning I climbed out on my side and walked round the end of the bed, looking for my Gramma...
I found her sleeping on the floor.....She was snoring...her hair long and loose from the bun she wore in the daytime..... I reached down and grabbed her toe.... I tried to tickle her....
I called her name.

I ran to the porch. "Granddad, I can't wake Gramma!"

Granddad kneeled down and smoothed her gown.... he went to the living room.
"Operator, get me Dr. Newman"...
"Dr. Newman, please come....Mildred's dying."

I never understood it, but I wasn't allowed back in the room. My brother, Billy came,,,,,he was sobbing.... he was allowed in to see her,....and still I could not go back in.
But, to this day, I can see her lying there..... And I was not afraid.

I wondered if it was because it was his birthday....yes, that was it!

Someone bought three baby chicks and brought them to us. One grey one, one red one, one white.
We named them Spinach, Carrot, and Cotton bottom. I never thought it strange. I was eight.

Christmas in Hawaii, 1958.

Money on an Ensign's salary was enough to feed and house us. But Christmas was coming....I was pregnant...so love was our gift to each other....
We had our tree; a real one. Our new dog, "Henry"had joined us,....Not yet housebroken, he chose the floor behind the tree to disguise that fact.

A huge box had arrived from Charlie's parents....so many gifts for just the two of us, all wrapped with sweet notes on each one. I looked at my husband. Tears ran down his face.

But what could I give to him? We had found baby furniture on base, brand new, half price. Just when we needed it, but all our money was spent on that furniture
.
My ring! I didn't need that ring....  It was an opal, my birthstone, but I never wore it. Surely, Bess Wright, the family friend who had left it to me would understand.

I had seen a watch that was just right for my Charlie. The jewelry store had a sign in the window: "Highest prices paid for your jewelry".

That's it! I can sell my ring and buy my love a watch.....
I climbed the stairs to Duane Fish Custom Jewelry. I showed my ring to him.

"This is a beautiful ring. ...Why are you selling it?  If I were to buy this ring, I would give you $75.00".
Seventy-five DOLLARS?  My heart jumped! I could buy the watch!

"But don't sell me your ring. Go home and have your Christmas with your husband.  You need to keep your ring and enjoy it. Christmas will come."

Disappointed, I went back to our sweet home.
The mailman came. A letter addressed to me....from my dad.
Merry Christmas! In it was a check..for $75.00!

I went back to the jewelers. There was the perfect watch. I bought it.
And I have never forgotten that kind man....I have the ring today, and I think of Duane Fish when I wear it!

Talking with Jack

Describing the first cross-country trip with Charlie...
My writer's block has lifted.
I remember it well...

Newlyweds....travelling to California...from there to Hawaii....
My little green Ford sedan suited me for getting back and forth to my teaching job in Mclean, but my dad insisted on swapping his newer one for this trip....
"Why don't we save our money and sleep in our car?", I nai

Music....at last!

Waking as I do at unpredictable hours. I have decided to use that time productively.
Trying to return to sleep just doesn't work.
So I'm blogging now. It's quiet.... My music is on....Life is good! 

The Boze Wave Radio I bought on Ebay arrived yesterday. I can play my carols.
Sorted through them, discarding some....
Turned on the FM feature. WETA coming in clear....BLISS!

Early morning, when my 80 year old brain is clear is when I'll write down the things I want to remember.....IF I can remember....
We'll see!

Day 2 , 3:33 AM

Awoke eager to resume writing.
For so long I've only had my phone to communicate. That worked; I was grateful, but folks didn't like it much when I accidently hit a wrong button and phoned them at 3 AM.

Dating Charlie was a challenge. It was not allowed in any form during a Midshipman's Plebe (first) year.... But when one feels as we did, it was gonna happen....and often!

My Mom loved Charlie....really loved him. But I was starting my first year at Lynchburg College.
She "suggested" I date while there.... If he was "the one", dating others wouldn't interfere, but confirm our feelings.... Besides, it was an important part of my young experience.
So I did....until 1 January, 1956 when he asked me to marry him!

His parents went to Annapolis often to see him...and I went along.
Would I be his sister? Would they buy that?
Probably not....a sister wouldn't look at him like I did.

Until 1956, when we were officially engaged, I continued to date.
Lynn Llewellyn had asked me out Saturday night.
Charlie's folks called and invited me to go along, promising to bring me home in time, and, of course, I wanted to go.
They often brought a high school male friend as a decoy so no one would know I was there to see my Charlie....
They pulled up in front of my house....
I climbed in.....
I was horrified....there, in the back seat, sat Lynn!

Misguided trust

This is a sad time in all our lives. It is also a frightening time.

Our home has always been open to others. From exchange students to our children's misunderstood classmates....to relatives needing temporary shelter...
It seems that there was always someone other than immediate family visiting or staying in our home.
We have always enjoyed folks dropping in. There was always enough food for them to stay for dinner. There were couches to sleep on when needed....It worked for us.

This past year was no different. But the outcome has been a disaster.

A friend of Bob's was welcomed two years ago..... He had been gravely ill (a pulmonary embolism)...I hadn't seen him since Bob died, so when I saw him pulling out of a side street, I waved at him and gestured for him to drop by.

He looked terrible...weak...could barely walk.
Over the next months, he was a frequent visitor.... The babies loved him....he would ride our tractor and mow our yard till it looked like a golf course....he insisted it was therapy for him, that his own yard was done in minutes....and he needed something to do.

He opened up to us....his mother depended on him for her care...he had a brother and sister who lived away, so this care fell to him. He opened up to us and didn't stop...day after day we listened to how hard his life was and how he had no help from his family...
We were his sounding board, and we tried to understand and give him a "soft place to fall"

We drove him to Charlottesville to visit his doctors.... he was here day and night, sometimes till 10 or 11.... But we felt sorry for him, so let it continue until the day he began to change....

He began to preach....to say strange things...he threw his meds over the bank and  lectured a guest on The Ten Commandments...for three hours!  We knew something was very wrong....stress?  We tried to understand.

When it began to very negatively affect our family, we asked him to please give us some space...come when invited...

We talked to his family, hoping for insight, hoping they would help....friends reached out to him...

Very long story, but his behavior after this kindly stated request became extremely hostile....Voice mails...text messages...carefully veiled threats.

We are fearful...our once unlocked home has become a fortress....we have upgraded and use our security system.... We have a large dog, bought for our protection.
We have mace....

We have a protective order against him, which he immediately violated.
He is, for the time being, in jail. He needs to be evaluated, but his family must request it; we can't...

Unless he is totally out of our lives, we will have to live this way.....
We loved him...we trusted him.
This goes against who we are...we do not like how we feel...we do not wish the destruction of anyone, but this is where we are now.

But I, for one, will not let this one experience make me wary of others.
I will be watchful, but this is what I believe:

    " Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels      
     unawares"
Hebrews 13:2

Then...Now...Wow!

I was born in 1936.... Ages ago to my great-grandchildren.... Ages ago to any of my relatives left to read this blog...... I am 79, "Pushin' 80"., as I say to the younger ones...... But today that's not considered so old; Granny Mary is "Pushin' 104"!

And this is the subject of today's blog:  Comparisons of my early life and the way things are now.... WOW!

I was born October 22, 1936...in a Nursing Home....
A "nursing home"? That's where old people, infirm people, people who can no longer care for themselves stay.... Yes, I was born in a nursing home, Mom told me....

In Falls Church, there was no hospital.....back then, a lot of births were home births, many attended by whoever was there.
But Mom was modern, or her doctor was, so she went a few blocks away to the nursing home and had me.  I don't think she had anesthesia, either. Mom never said.

Dad paced back and forth, smoked cigarettes, as was the custom, and saw me when I was presentable.

They brought me home to the brand new six thousand dollar brick home they had built next door to the Victorian home of my grandparents... I lived there for the first 21 years of my life.

My brother was 5, Mom was 30...so was Dad. A family of four, the perfect size, and we remained this "perfect example", Mom, Dad, brother, sister and our English Setter, "Spot".

School was four blocks away at the end of our street, and we, of course, walked....But my  (private) kindergarten was farther away, in a house.....Billy walked me there and then returned to Madison School. More than one time, I remember riding on his back through the snow to get there.

When I was old enough, I walked with him to school... On my first day, I remember vividly being put in a room with Mrs Snodgrass.....a skinny old maid, she yelled a lot..... Betty Hughes used to cry before school, throw up sometimes...I was terrified!

But, just as my chin was trembling in preparation for howling, another teacher came for me and took me to a second grade classroom. I had tested second grade level...saved from Mrs. Snodgrass!
Mrs Fravel was soft spoken...she smiled....and I thrived there.

This was a very interesting thing, in retrospect.  I wasn't allowed to enter the public school because the cut-off date for first grade was September. My birthday was in October. So, I was put in private kindergarten.

But I could read! And that made the difference....I tested second grade level. No pre-school at age 3 or 4, just a good kindergarten teacher who used (Gasp!) PHONICS!!!!

Today's babies are expected to leave their homes at age 4 and attend pre-school so they'll be "ready" for school....They come home with a list of requirements, homework to complete, school papers marked with happy faces or sad faces... It is now February. At the end of the year, like all children in our public schools, they will be tested.

Some may be able to read....some will have perfect handwriting....some will be mature enough, some will not...They will be 6, but some will still be 5....
I, the youngest in my class, tested (definitely not on a computer) well.....
But God forbid they teach PHONICS!!!!

And the parents, who with few exceptions, work all day, come home with dinner to prepare, having spent very little time with their children, must supervise homework with cranky children who have spent all day "learning" and riding the school bus, must convince their offspring that an hour of homework (for a six-year-old) is appropriate!

Tossing a football with Dad is "appropriate" .....playing with siblings is appropriate....Legos are appropriate....fighting with siblings is appropriate!
Listening to a story is appropriate, so is snuggling with Mom.... etc., etc., etc.!

Antidepressants, anyone?