Memories

Scattered throughout my home are a few items that came from my childhood home. In monetary terms, they are worth nothing, but in memories and feelings of attachment to a life now gone, they are priceless.

There is the picture that hung in my mother's kitchen that depicts an older woman and the butcher attempting to cheat each other and the Scandinavian welcome sign that is hand painted. A wicker rocking chair that actually belonged to my grandmother but also sat in my parent's bedroom is now part of my home. When I have rocked my grandchildren in it, I realize that my grandmother may have sat there rocking me at one time. I know my mother sat there with my children. Another item is a round candy tin with a photo of Santa Claus that held thread, buttons and other sewing needs. This also belonged to my grandmother.

I have the wooden pig that holds pens and pencils as well as the wooden paper holder for note writing. These two items were always there, but I have no idea where they originated.

I just know that they bring me joy and give me a small feeling of being with those whom I love but are no longer here. At the time they were just objects, but now they are concrete links to the past. Perhaps my children will have them in their homes someday as a daily reminder of days gone by.

Thought for the day: It's surprising how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time. Barbara Kingsolver

Visitors from the West

A few weeks ago two of my dear friends from Minnesota came for a visit. I was so excited to have them make the trek to Wisconsin and spend a couple days. The time went far too quickly, of course, but we had a wonderful time together.

We played alot of games and did a ton of laughing. We walked downtown Colfax arm in arm which made a couple of the locals take a second look. The library and a couple thrift stores were visited. The gentleman at the thrift store caused us a few laughs as he complained that Colfax was no longer what it used to be. Why, there used to be a hardware store, etc. You could get any thing you needed here in Colfax. He also sang along to the radio piped into the store, and he caused one of my friends to cling to me in fear of being left alone with him in a corner of the store.

It made them feel better about my move when they saw the wonderful home we have and how I have settled in just fine. I think they left with good feelings about my new situation plus it's always nice to experience the surroundings instead of just hearing about them.

I am most grateful for these good friends.

Thought for the day: No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are throughout persuaded of each other's worth. Robert Southey

Feels Like Sunday

No matter how many years go by and the past gets further away, I can always tell when it's Sunday. There is a different feeling, and I can be instantly transported back to my childhood and beyond.

I grew up attending a small Lutheran church in Nelson, MN. Our family rarely missed a Sunday. I have fond memories of the people and the routine. My mother almost always made a big dinner on Sundays; often the meal would be cooking while we were in church and finished when we returned home. It could be beef roast, pork roast, spareribs, etc. Whatever it might be, the aroma was a welcome one upon returning home.

There might be a stop at the store for milk and always my dad would pull over to the mailbox and grab the huge Sunday newspaper. After dinner, my dad would barely make it to his recliner before succumbing to his afternoon nap. My mom, of course, would clean up the dishes and then sit on the couch. She would never admit to napping but oftentimes her head would drop. When confronted with it and a suggestion was made to lie down, her answer was always "I'm not sleeping!"

In the evening, there would be a light supper while watching 60 Minutes. In the earlier days, Sunday evening television would consist of Bonanza or The Wonderful World of Disney.

These were not lofty activities, but in my mind and soul, they are priceless. If I could have one wish from the genie, it would be to have a Sunday with my parents.

As time went on, my children enjoyed the same experiences with their grandparents. Now those times are gone, but Sundays will always have a different feeling than the other six days of the week.

Thought for the day: Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow