Sarah's CircleFriends are blessings that sustain our journeys. |
There have been many people in my life who appeared just when I needed them. Most have been women. I suppose I feel women provide a better example for who I should be than men, though men have taught me plenty. From Lois Bekkerus, in the small Lutheran church in Lake Charles I attended for 26 years, to my older sister Karen, to my stepmother Ruby (all now gone) I learned who I am as a child of God and as a woman and mother. Of course, there are a few lessons I've had to unlearn, but for the most part I'm thankful for all these women taught me. One of the mentors I treasure most, though, is my teaching mentor, Linda. I didn't start teaching until I was 54 years old--practically ancient! I knew the subject areas well enough, but I really didn't know how to teach. Linda provided a calm, reassuring presence across the hall, always ready to listen and suggest ways to handle a situation. She suggested workshops I might find useful, and they were. She let me sit in on her classes, and she sometimes visited mine and gave helpful pointers. Always respectfully and with the best interests of my students' success in mind, a concern we shared. I learned from my fourth grade teacher Mrs. Sims, who was strict but fair, that the teachers I admire most are both liked and respected by their students. Linda fit that mold perfectly. Students knew she wanted the best for them, but she made them earn their success, and added an encouraging nudge. When I was nominated for Teacher of the Year in 2010 (all of us were eventually--it was a small staff), Linda loaned me her submission materials from the year she'd been nominated so I'd have a model to work from. I told her at the time, as though I were joking: "You're who I want to be when I grow up." But I was serious. During the next ten or so years that I taught, I tried to emulate---and not very well---Linda's confident, compassionate style. Linda and I are both retired now, and I no longer need to cry on her shoulder about my class's miserable performance on a quiz. "What did I do wrong? They didn't understand any of it!" I don't need her advice on helping a struggling student catch up, and I don't have to pick her brain about meeting the latest district-wide initiative for improving test scores. Instead, I simply cherish the friend who taught me who a teacher could be. --Janice
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My daughter Sarah gave me a Skylight for Mother’s Day. I (or anyone else) can email pictures to it. It sits on my desk, about tablet size, shuffling through pictures in random order. It has brought back so many happy memories! It’s a wonderful reminder of how many good times we’ve had as a family.
Each year it seems someone new joins the family, by marriage or birth. The most recent was Quinn, born last September 15. She may be the last, as my daughters have declared themselves done with childbirth, and my son and his wife are pretty overwhelmed with two. We’ll see. The family has had some great trips together over the years. Our last one was to California. We are all Harry Potter fans so we went to Harry Potter World in Los Angeles. It was great! Some of the best times we’ve had, either on a trip or at home, have been just hanging out and playing games. I remember lots of laughter during those times. This picture, taken during a family trip to Las Vegas in 2016, brings back such wonderful memories. When I see how little the grandkids were and realize how much they’ve grown up since, I’m so glad that we went to the trouble and expense to make these experiences happen. --Terese When I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer. My friend Janet and I wrote stories in third grade that our teacher oohed and aahed over, making us feel talented. She called us the "Gold Dust Twins," because of the way our hair glinted golden in the sun. I loved Mrs. Sibley, and I loved to read, so it seemed natural that I'd someday write stories--or books. Life has a habit of getting in the way of our plans, though. Instead of becoming a writer, I became a scientist like my Dad. While he was a chemist, I was a medical technologist (which includes a lot of chemistry). It was more than twenty years later, after my "dream job" in research ended because of a department closure when I picked up my writing dream again. I wrote two-and-a-half (very bad) novels and some pretty good personal essays. I realized I was a better nonfiction writer than the fiction writer I'd always thought I could be. However, it was clear after a few years of making a few hundred dollars a year that I'd never make a living at writing. I turned to teaching instead. It might seem an odd connection, but I think the reason I wanted to write was because I wanted to share information. So now I'm about finished with a memoir, Mother of My Invention, which somehow completes the puzzle I've always tried to solve about how my mother's identity and mine intersect. and I realize it's the book I've always wanted to write--all my novel drafts flirted with the same story line. As a shy introvert, I haven't always felt I had a voice, and this book gives me one. I hope I have more personal essays in me, but at the least, I will have shared what I didn't feel I could earlier in my life. There's something about writing that helps in understanding what life is about, and I hope others might recognize truths there as well. The books I've enjoyed most are the ones that teach me about the world, about myself, and that I'm not alone. --Janice We had such a fun trip to Lindsborg, Kansas last weekend. It started out raining and we decided to go anyway and what a great decision! The day turned out perfect, so we were able to shop and sightsee. Lindsborg is known as Little Sweden so the town has Dala Horses all along the main streets and even at the college. The one in the picture is in front of the senior center. I just loved the glasses and the cane on the horse! Our hotel had Swedish furniture in the lobby and in the rooms, just the typical wooden furniture that is so representative of Sweden. Sweden has lots of trees and lots of rocks. That's why my ancestors left Sweden. It's hard to farm rocks. We visited the Sandzen gallery. Birger Sandzen was part of the Taos school of art, but he taught at Bethany College in Lindsborg for over 40 years. Outside the town of Lindsborg is a place called Coronado Heights. Legend has it that a Spanish coin was found near Lindsborg in 1881 by a college professor and because of that, maybe Coronado visited there. In the 1930s, the WPA built what looks like a castle on top of the hill. It has a observation deck and tons of picnic tables around, that are vintage 1930s. It was such a great day to see off into the distance in all directions. With Kansas being relatively flat and farmed, you could see a very long way. We decided to get some food and had a picnic on top of Coronado Heights. It was a short and fun trip and the first time we have been away since the pandemic began. Such a great memory! --Carolyn I am so excited! After 1-1 1/2 years of only virtual communication with my sons, daughter-in-laws, and granddaughters, I will finally be traveling to see all of them. There have been many difficult things about this pandemic, but none as horrible as being separated from those that I love so deeply. I hate that I have missed being with my 2 granddaughters during a time when they are changing from young girls to adolescents. Oh, I’m very thankful for the technology that has allowed us to see each other from so many miles away, but family bonds are developed during time spent together. But I will not allow myself to dwell on what might of been, or on all the things that didn’t happen, but will focus on the joys of today and all the tomorrows that I am allowed to have with these wonderful people that are my family. (The attached picture is several years old, but is the most recent that shows all of us together.)
--Jeanette I have to start this story with a bit of explanation. I was born in the wrong family. Somewhere in Woodstock or Greenwich Village there as a hip, happy, artistic family waiting for their second child & I got waylaid in rural Florida. Crossed star paths, I guess.
My family of origin was all circles and squares, rigid with religious rules, anger fueled by frustration with the life they didn't expect to have, and no joy in their marriage. We had moved from the city of Jacksonville, FL. to the very small town of Glen St. Mary, to take care of my maternal Grandfather. Grandpa was very ill, slowly dying of congestive heart failure with very little medical support at that time. I can't remember what (if any) event led to my story, I had just reached the point of not being able to stand being where I was any longer. I had probably gotten my driver's license not long before this event. At any rate, one night I quietly went into my parent's bedroom, took my mon's car keys, a credit card for gas and left. I didn't pack a bag, had very little money and no plan. I just wanted to escape. I discovered that I love to drive all by myself down the highway, nothing but me and the wind in my hair. I could drive fast or slow; I had only myself to please and It was wonderful. Unfortunately, I had a small accident in a little town about 300 miles down state. When the police came and got my story, they called my parents and took me into custody. This was 60 years ago so the only thing they could do was take me to their jail and put me in a cell overnight. It was a barebones kind of place, with no sheets or pillowcases. I guess it was supposed to scare me into compliance with the family rules. (Didn't work.) I had some counseling with a psychiatrist for a bit after that. Lots of lectures at school from well-meaning teachers and a coach, but it was all band aid work and never got near the roots of the issues. So my next escape was to get married at 17 years old. But that's another story. --donna When I was 14 my friend Pat and I would walk downtown to Stillwater and get a chocolate Coke at the drug store fountain while we were waiting to board the 6PM late bus from the junior high school. Our after school activities never took more than 1 or 2 hours, so we always had time to spare. One day Pat needed new nylon hose, so we walked to Hooleys Grocery Store to find some. I immediately went to the snack department to look over the goodies. Pat went to find the hose. In a few minutes she yelled to me that she was ready to go, so we both walked out of the door. Immediately sirens started going off, and 2 policemen appeared from nowhere, shouting for us to STOP! I looked at Pat with startled eyes. As the policemen grabbed both of us, Pat shouted and laughed, “Leave her alone, she would never even think of doing this!” “Doing what?” I asked. One policemen said, “This girl has stolen pantyhose, and it is under her coat, But she is right, the other one was not even aware of it.” They didn’t ask me any questions, but they asked Pat her name, her address, her parent’s name, and how to get ahold of them. “My dad gets home really late, my Mom’s sickly, but if you call after 8PM my dad will talk to you, and take care of this.” “What’s his number” “General 6 8917.” “Alright, you can go now. But you’ll have to deal with your parents over this. I don’t want to see you again.” We left, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I said to Pat, ”You gave them Chuck’s number, you think that’s going to work?” “Of course, his voice has already changed, and he’d do anything for me.” The police did call our older teen neighbor Chuck, and it worked. He told them he’d deal harshly with her. Ha! Pat’s life was like that. She could get out of anything! --Cynthia I don't remember any cookies being baked in our household when I was a child. In the first place, my Dad was a very bad cook. Secondly, baked goods weren't a priority, even if he'd known how to make any (which he didn't). When my grandparents moved to Louisiana, I was already a teenager. My grandmother did bake in her kitchen, and we enjoyed visiting, especially when she baked snickerdoodles! They're my favorite cookie, plus they have a funny name that always makes me smile. At some point, Grandma passed this recipe on to my stepmother, who baked them often for holidays. The recipe, in turn, was passed on to my sister and me. When our daughter got married in 2004, I created a recipe book of family recipes for her. My grandmother's snickerdoodle recipe was included. 1 cup shortening (I use butter) 1-1/2 cup sugar 2 eggs 2-3/4 cups sifted all-purpose flour 1 tsp. baking soda 2 tsp. cream of tartar 1/2 tsp. salt 2 T. sugar 2 tsp. ground cinnamon Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease cookie sheets. In a medium bowl, cream together the shortening/butter and sugar. Add eggs one at a time, mixing after each. Sift together the flour, baking soda, cream of tartar and salt; stir into the creamed mixture until well blended. In a small shallow bowl, stir together the 2 T. of sugar with the cinnamon. Roll the dough into 1-inch balls and roll them in the sugar mixture. Place cookies 2 inches apart on the prepared cookie sheet. Bake for 8 - 10 minutes. Remove to cool on wire racks. Makes 3 dozen. --Janice My beverages have been limited for many years. I drink a cup of coffee in the morning and one or two Diet Cokes in the afternoon. The rest of the time I drink sugar-free lemonade or herbal tea, depending on how warm or cold it is. I’m not much of an alcohol drinker but I do enjoy a glass of wine or a beer occasionally. On special occasions I may drink a margarita or a vodka tonic. Alcohol frequently gives me migraines so if I want to drink I have migraine medicine handy to take at the first sign of trouble, but that’s not always totally effective. I’m actually somewhat glad for this because it naturally limits my alcohol use. I imagine that I could easily drink excessively if not controlled by the prospect of a terrible headache. During Covid, I’ve experienced (like most everyone else) feelings of isolation, stress and depression. The thought of alcohol has been very tempting, and it often crosses my mind around 5:00. Don’t ask me why that time, but there it is. To keep from giving in, I have been drinking plain diet tonic water over ice, typically with a twist of lime. It tastes almost exactly like a vodka tonic, so it has become my alcohol substitute. Anyway, I really like the taste, which to me is almost like grapefruit juice. Cheers! --Terese SWEDISH PANCAKES The recipe that most represents my family, especially my mother's side of the family, is Swedish pancakes. I don't even really care for regular pancakes and when I try to make them, they do not come out well. What Swedish pancakes remind me of is visits from family or with family. Whenever we went to visit aunts and uncles on my mother's side, pancakes would definitely be one meal. They each made them slightly differently and served different things with them. When I was growing up, we always had our pancakes with butter and sugar rolled inside them. That's still pretty typical at any aunt's house. However, as my kids got older, we tried and added more things, like peanut butter or syrup or powdered sugar. I am sure this was a meal for poor people so adding all these things was probably not possible. In case you don't know, Swedish pancakes are like crepes. They are made very thin and one pancake fills the whole frying pan. Karla and I will have them from time to time when she comes to visit. Half the recipe I have is more than enough for two people. The recipe I have is this: 3 eggs 1 ½ T. sugar 3 ¼ cups milk 1 ½ t. salt 2 c. flour 3 t. baking powder Beat eggs. Add 2 cups milk, add dry ingredients. Beat well. Add rest of milk A tip for cooking these is to have a hot and slightly greased frying pan. Add about a ¼ to 1/3 cup of batter and tilt frying pan to spread batter over the whole frying pan. When bubbles appear it is time to turn the pancake. The first couple may not turn easily, but once turned they need very little time to cook. They fill a whole plate. We eat them rolled up with the condiments I mentioned before. I really love them and they have such fond memories for me. --Carolyn |
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