York, England Maisonette

Bootham Bar, York

"It will be difficult to find housing for your enormous family," the letting agent said. "Would you consider living in the depths of the country? There would be no central heating, of course, and it can get bitter in the thick of the winter."

Yorkshire Dales in the thick of the winter

Dee and I were in York, England to secure a place at the uni, and a place to live. Yorkshire has a delightful and picturesque language all it's own, to match it's beautiful countryside. Although we'd been to London a few times, and visited the south coast, we had never ventured anywhere else. York is a medieval, walled city, sometimes called the Capital of the North. The center of town is pedestrian only, with quaint cobblestones and ancient buildings. It's a fairytale setting and we felt like we were in one.

The Shambles, York

We were there for twelve days and visited several estate agents, but as soon as we said we had seven kids they declared us "impossible." One of them suggested we rent two flats next door to each other, "one for the children." We poured over the newspaper to no avail. At the chippy (fish and chips shop) we were advised to visit Nigel Naisch. "He'll have something brilliant." We only had two days left.

Did they leave out the "i"?

Feeling desperate and scared of his reaction to the whole truth, we told Nigel we had four children. (Well...we did have four...) He told us he was just ready to let a house to "some Saudis" for two months, but since we wanted a year, he'd rather let us have it. It turned out to be a Victorian mansion built in 1850, a ten minute walk from the center of town, and just outside the walls.

The couple who owned the house lived part-time in the main hall, and most of the time in London. They had turned the old servants quarters into a huge apartment. It was fully furnished down to the silverware and a hoover (vacuum), with an entry way like a small hotel. Actually, after you came through the front door, there was a small entryway and then a set of double doors to the main entry. From top to bottom there were six flights of stairs.

Our house was from the drainpipe to the left.

All the rooms were huge, with very high ceilings. The kitchen, formal dining room, and cloak room were on the entry floor. Behind the cloak room was a loo. It was a little room with a pull-chain toilet and basin, similar to a bathroom on a European train. It was lit by a skylight to a tiny window high above, so it was very dim at best. You had to be frantic to go in there!

Our kitchen

A few steps down from the kitchen was a box room. It housed potting and gardening supplies and had a big old-fashioned sink with counters all around. More stairs went down to a very spooky basement with a frightening boiler. I only went down there twice.

The backyard

Up a flight of stairs from the entry was a giant living room with a veranda leading to a park-like backyard. Another two flights of stairs took us to three bedrooms, all with basins and fireplaces (that weren't in use) and hulking carved wardrobes for closets. There was a bathroom for the bathtub, (no shower or toilet) and a separate water closet with a pull-chain toilet.

Pete in the WC

Two more flights led to the attic loft, off a little landing. This room had a strange, tiny basin with only a trickle of water, and was also missing part of it's window. (It was July, so we didn't notice that til later . . . we didn't notice a lot of things til later.)

Dee, wondering what we were doing

We could rent this massive place for £250, which was $320 a month! We signed it up. We didn't know about it's quirks.

Leap of Faith

Dee quit his job on April 22, 1985, in a blaze of certainty. The next day we went into panic mode. It's funny how all our daydreams faded into doubts overnight! By May 1 he had read several books on career change, contacted executive search agencies, filled out resumes---he remembers standing on a corner in the middle of downtown wondering which building had a job for him. It's hard to choose from everything. And yet he didn't feel qualified for anything. He had offers in the real estate market that felt safe and familiar, but the point was starting over. We didn't want to compromise now that we had taken the big leap. Those famous words came back to haunt us: What do you do with a history degree??

Our savings account was diminishing more quickly than we had planned. The blue chairs in the bedroom were getting extra use. Hours were spent sitting there, facing each other, discussing, considering, comparing. We were sometimes excited, sometimes scared. We cried, prayed and wondered what we were doing. We had felt the Lord's influence in our decisions so far, but we didn't know if we were supposed to wait for guidance or move ahead on our own. Then again, maybe we had imagined all of it. Were we really inspired by God, or was there too much chlorine in our water? One moment we were full of faith, and the next we were full of fear. Total opposites.

Scriptures kept coming to mind: "Seek and ye shall find...," "Be anxiously engaged in a good cause...," "Search diligently, pray always, and be believing and all things shall work together for your good...." We trusted, but we had to remind ourselves of that fact. One of us would be up for the adventure, while the other was in the bathroom throwing up with worry. It was a roller coaster of emotions, and they changed hour to hour. We knew we were on the verge of something big, but we didn't know what it was.

Dee took a church youth group to a conference at a university. While the kids were in a workshop, he went into the career counseling office and thumbed through some books. Looking under history, he saw some graduate programs in Historic Preservation. Suddenly he was sure of something. He came home and told me he wanted to go back to school.

Visions of student housing with seven kids swirled in my mind. Been there, done that. I said I was all for it if we could do it with style; I wanted it to be an adventure for all of us. Dee began to research colleges that offered a master's degree in Historic Preservation. Most of them were back east, and very expensive, taking two years to complete. We got excited by a program in Delaware and one in Vermont. The only way we could finance it would be to sell our house. We decided to go for it, and then we prayed to know if it was right, and how to proceed.

June 16 was Father's Day. At church I told someone what our plans were, and as I said it, I started crying. I couldn't stop! The stress of the whole thing just came pouring out and I kept crying the whole day. All the pluck had gone out of me; I was exhausted and I felt like a wet noodle. I prayed for a jolt of certainty.

Our prayers were answered. Dee had been visiting everyone in the state who was connected with historic sites. On Monday he called on the state preservation officer. (A week before we had not known that office existed.) The fifteen minute appointment stretched to two hours. Dee met me at a little league game that night bubbling over with excitement about his new acquaintance. This guy had received his MA from a university in York, England. The course was designed as a mid-career program, and was only a year long, therefore much less expensive, and was regarded as the best of it's kind in the world. (In fact, the architect restoring the capitol building in Washington, DC, was a student with Dee, as well as architects and historians training for projects in Greece and Italy. Professionals were sent in preparation for unique restoration and research assignments.) Dee called the next day, and was given details for application. He was told he was very late and would need to apply in person.

This was right! We knew it! Do you remember when Indiana Jones took the leap of faith into the chasm, and the invisible path suddenly became obvious? That's how we felt. We had found our path, but we still didn't know where it was leading.

To be continued....

Winging It: York, England

We had thought about it for years. I'm scared of heights, I've always had nightmares of falling, and I can't even look down when I climb up bleachers, but we knew it was time. We jumped!

I don't mean we jumped out of an airplane, but we did take a flying leap. Dee worked his way to a degree in history by developing real estate. It's hard to leave a lucrative job to start a teaching career, and what else do you do with a history major? So he made research and writing his hobby, and looked forward to weekends like everybody else. Our favorite daydream was making enough money so he could quit and work at something he loved doing.

The daydream became an obsession. We were talking about it all the time, imagining a different life. We toyed with the idea of resigning. The roaring 1970's were behind us and the riotous '80's were taking a toll. The real estate market was suddenly very shaky, and so was Dee's company. That dreamy part about our portfolio supporting us was truly a daydream, but it seemed like the timing was right for us to start over. However, we had seven kids between the ages of fifteen and four, and a mortgage and two car payments. Could we really bail out of life?

Dee thought it would be unethical to look for a job without informing his company of his plans. Quitting was the nightmare we expected it to be, but when that part was over, it was time to plan our future. We were in free fall, realizing we should have packed parachutes.

To be continued...

(Photos: Not us.)

Souvenirs

Whenever I unpack, I discover I've brought home a new awareness. That's my favorite souvenir.

I'd just never thought about the people that live in Ottawa before. They ice skate to work down the Rideau Canal in the winter, and lots of them speak French. It's funny to think they've been living there all along, since the 1600's, and they have parents and problems, and lives and loves and I didn't even pay attention.

Ottawa is Canada's capitol city and there are magnificent parliament buildings built right on the river. We stayed in an elegant hotel in the center (or centre) of town, and as we were settling in, we heard bagpipes. From our window we watched a brass band leading a regiment of red-coated, black-hatted soldiers down the street for the changing of the guard. This happens twice a day!

High Tea is served every afternoon in our hotel. We had cranberry scones with Devonshire cream, finger sandwiches with smoked salmon and cucumber, and dainty boysenberry tarts. The hamburgers we ate earlier were bison, and I had brown sugar crepes for breakfast with Canadian maple syrup.

This was a research trip for a book Dee's writing about a family from Ireland. They immigrated to Ontario, Canada, and a few generations later made their way to Michigan. We started in Detroit taking photos of churches, schools, homes, graves, etc., documenting lives from about 1820 through 1970. He needed to put the setting in context with the history of the neighborhoods, so we'd read up on it. I love learning about places by being there. It was thought provoking to see evidence of the race riots of the '60's and do a little research on the impact of the Ford Motor Company. Those aren't topics that would usually interest me, but that's what I love about travel. It opens my eyes to a bigger world.

We drove over 2,000 miles, through Ontario and on to Ottawa looking for evidence of early settlers. I thought Canada would seem just like the US but it was very much a different country. The newspapers didn't mention our presidential hopefuls or their campaigns, or anything else we're used to seeing. It's humbling to realize that people around the world are not focused on the USA, or wishing they lived here, or even thinking we're cool! I love being reminded of that. It puts my life in perspective. (One funny thing: on the news one night the attention getting weather tidbit was about three exotic areas where there was huge flooding-- Bangladesh; Oxford, England; and West Jordan, Utah! We immediately called home to see if the west side of our valley had washed away, and found it still intact. Any rain in a Utah summer is newsworthy, and I guess weather people everywhere are looking for something exciting to report.)

Sitting in the very crowded Chicago airport on our trip home, I looked around at the potpourri of passengers. People from everywhere, going somewhere else. We were all so similar, and yet we live such a variety of lives. I wondered what would happen if I suddenly jumped up on a table, grabbed a microphone and started describing my kids, or impetuously let loose with a list of my fears and passions. What if I told them about snoring in church? That's exactly what I do when I tour the blogosphere! I guess blogging is a little like travel. I connect with people and ideas I didn't know about before, and then I start paying attention. I get a little more awareness.

She Made Me Who I Am

One July morning at 7:am, Gabi made me a mom. I wasn't quite twenty-one when she was born, and I didn't have a clue about what it meant to be a mom. I just knew it was what I was meant to be. My big fear as a teenager was that I would die before I had kids. I wasn't afraid of how I would die, or being dead, but that my dream of being a mother wouldn't come true. I must have wished on a lucky star!

She was born breach (and totally natural, I might add), folded in half, and she inhaled before she hit oxygen, leaving her breathless. The nurses worked on her for a few minutes and then whisked her away somewhere, without telling us anything about how she was. It was very frightening. Several hours later they brought her to me. I was so overwhelmed. Now I was breathless! For a couple of days I kept trying to say a prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for letting me have her, but I couldn't find the words. I felt ungrateful just saying "Thank you, thank you" over and over again, but I think He may have understood.

Gabi came into my life only 18 months after Dee did. She's known us almost as long as we've known us! She helped us become US. She lived in our first tiny trailer home, our second less (but still) tiny trailer home; she rode in the VW and the Vega, and saw Dee as a soldier. She was part of our college life, and part of our pre-TV, pre-income days. We started leaving shoes out for St. Nickolas Day, and cookies for Santa because of her. She made us a family.

I read out loud to Gabi from the day she was born. Mostly I read Dr. Spock as I fed her, trying to figure out when she'd do something interesting. Dee laid on the floor with her for hours demonstrating how to roll over. It actually took hours of watching her movements, for him to figure out the steps of rolling over. He practiced with her for about six months until she caught on. We figured we'd taught her! We didn't realize that she'd come already programmed to do every important thing. We didn't have to teach her anything. In fact, she taught us.

I read an article about how to make your child a genius. It said to tie helium balloons to your baby's wrists and ankles, and their eyes would catch the movement and eventually they'd realize they were pulling the strings! I tried it, and it must have worked. She became a genius. She could sing dozens of songs, say the Pledge of Allegiance, recite poems and ask questions by 18 months. By the time she was two, I was asking her questions. She became my best friend. I'd even consult her about what I should wear! (She knew exactly what they were wearing at the laundromat, and milk depot, which were my usual destinations.) Her siblings started arriving about that time, and it was a joint project for us. I saw her as my confidant and support. She truly encouraged me, saying funny, cute things at crucial moments. My favorite was, "When we're all grown up will you be retarded from motherhood?" (Yes...retired, and retarded.)

She was an awesome babysitter, first for me, and then for many others. She became a nanny, and tended kids for weeks at a time while their parents traveled. She worked at a nursery school and daycare center during high school, and then majored in Elementary Education. She taught 6th graders who were taller than she was. She also taught Kindergarten and Pre-school. She was born to teach.

She met her perfect match, they got married, and they worked their way through college for a few years before they graduated. Being the perfect parental candidates didn't translate to being parents. While they waited, they built careers and houses and moved across the country. They traveled and had fun together until the other shoe dropped. They did become parents...twice in three years, and then again with twin boys...and they did it with a flourish! (Check out her blog for the inside stories.)

It's stunning to look at this woman whom I admire and respect so much, and realize she's my daughter! She sets an example of kindness, hospitality, charity, spirituality and energy that I can't come close to emulating. She changed me forever and I'll be forever grateful to be her mom.

Happy Birthday, Gab!

I'm on Leave

I'll be in foreign places for the next week!

This is the Place!

Mount Olympus (I didn't take the photos.)

Once a year we live in a million dollar property. We celebrate with floats, fireworks, marching bands, and clowns right in our front yard! Our two balconies overlook the biggest parade in the Intermountain West. The pioneers first arrived in our valley on July 24, 1847 and it's been a party ever since.

C. C. A. Christensen

People start arriving at 6:am the day before the parade, and camp out on the sidewalks to claim their viewing spot. We've had tents, sleeping bags, blankets, chairs and hundreds of people outside all day long. It was over 100 degrees this afternoon! Tonight we had a surprise (and VERY welcome!) thunderstorm, complete with lightning and car wash type rain for 20 minutes or so, just enough to get everyone soaked and raise the humidity level to miserable. Yet these brave pioneer descendants bore it with cheers and laughter, huddled together under their blankets. Every so often a firecracker goes off, and right now (after midnight) policemen are practicing a choreographed routine on motorcycles for tomorrow's events.

We have wondered if we could rent our decks out, like suites at a football game. But we have our own version of a camp out. Kids and grand kids come for a sleepover, and/or breakfast. The guys throw M & M's to the crowd seven stories below, the wimps sit inside and watch the parade on TV in air-conditioned comfort, while all the little kids sit in chairs on the deck, waving their flags, cheering and clapping from their perfect perch.

From our window we see the desert, blossoming as a rose, just like the pioneers said it would. Yes, this is the place!

Our view of the Salt Lake Valley

Portrait

Portrait painted 1980, with an addendum in 1982.

You know them all now. Gabi, Josh, Micah, Amy, Heidi, Peter, and Marta.
I've done a little word portrait of each one over the past few months. I don't think anyone can really know me unless they know something about my work, and this is my work. Dee always says we invested in our family, and now we're getting the dividends. (If you haven't met Dee you can read about him on all my Salzburg posts.)

I could talk about my kids forever. Each time I wrote about one of them, I thought about it for days afterwards, thinking of all the things I could add. I realize you don't really need to know everything. It's just so fun! Thanks for indulging me.

I used to say "I could be a great mother if it weren't for all these kids." Now I look at the evidence and say, "I must have been a great mother...just look at these kids!"

(Actually, I can't take much credit. They came good. And we had so many that we didn't have time to wreck them.)

A Driving Force

The Blue Bengal was our inheritance. It had a giant steering wheel with the gear shift on the column, no power steering, and driving it dislocated my shoulder. It called out to a teenage boy, and we had one. They were made for each other. They were both totally unique.

Josh could make that car do anything. One busy Saturday he took it downtown and entered the twisting driveway of a parking garage. Halfway up the ramp, with several cars stuck behind him, the Bengal stalled. Josh got it started again, but it wouldn't go into first. With the honking becoming louder, and his face getting redder, he leaned all his weight on the gear shift and forced it to slip somewhere inside, allowing the car to drive forward. Later he realized he'd created a new gear. From then on Josh was the only one who knew the combination. The Bengal was his.

Josh has always been ingenious. He laid on the floor at eighteen months and figured out how to work the transformer on the electric train. He already had the patience to carefully place the tiny wheels on the track and start it chugging slow enough to keep it from slipping off. Then he'd turn on the speed. That's the story of Josh's life.

He looked so pure and innocent with his blond curls, but that kid kept me on my toes. Before he could even walk he was trouble. One midnight I heard the front door slowly open. I woke Dee up so he could go check on things, but he rolled over quickly and left the rescue effort to me. I quietly walked to the entry just in time to see the door close. I peeked out the side window, and there was Josh! He had climbed out of his crib, crawled down the hall, and since there was nothing going on inside, he had left! Is that scary enough?

Another night I woke up because I thought I could hear mice. There was a rustling sound coming from the kitchen. I went to investigate and there was Josh, sitting in the bread drawer, in the dark, having a midnight snack. We had to put him in a bed because he was such an acrobat on the crib railing, and that gave him freedom before he had any sense. I used to sleep on the floor of his room next to his door so he'd have to climb over me to get out. I don't know why we just didn't lock him in. I didn't have a lot of sense either.

Josh soon became our fix-it man, our go-to guy. He was agile, and handy and full of ideas and energy, and very independent. When he decided to take guitar he didn't bother to mention it to me. He lined everything up, figured out how to strap a big bass guitar to his bike and informed me he was going to his lesson several miles away. He was twelve. He did the same thing with gymnastics. He wanted to take lessons, and I put him off. It was dangerous, expensive and inconvenient. He researched it all, found a gym, signed up, and arranged to clean the gym to pay for lessons. He planned to ride his bike about 6 miles each way a few times a week. He was about thirteen at the time, and it was all set before he consulted us. He was totally self-motivated. How could we stand in his way?

He was my yard crew. One day I left him mowing the lawn, and when I came home a few hours later he had pulled down the fence that separated the front and back yard, taken out all the rose bushes and was redesigning the landscaping. He was fifteen and had not discussed it with me. He had just decided it could look better. Within a few days he had planted some new grass and bushes and it did look much better. I learned to trust his judgment and abilities.

Josh needed some extra money when he was a sophomore. He was already teaching gymnastics and cleaning the gym to pay for his coach and workouts. One day he came home from school and informed us that the high school had hired him. He was coaching the girl's gymnastics team! He was on the staff! He arranged their meets, taught a class during school hours, met regularly with the school counselor over extra-curricular activities, and received a paycheck from the school district.

While he was still in high school Josh finished our basement. He designed it, bought the materials and did the construction. We had electricians and others come in to OK his work, but he was the contractor. He built our deck about the same time.

Ever his own man, Josh informed us a couple of months before he graduated from high school that he had applied and been accepted at a college in a different city, and was going to start summer semester just two weeks after graduation. He had housing lined up and a job arranged. We had been nagging and wondering about his application to our local university, but he demonstrated that we really didn't need to worry about him. While he was away, he survived on oatmeal for months saving for contact lenses. It wasn't that we wouldn't have provided them for him, he just didn't want to ask!

When Josh was 21, cruising up the highway to life, something hit him like a truck! A cog slipped into place and a new gear was created in this most independent of men. He fell in love! Like everything in Josh's life, it was fast and furious, and six months later he found himself married, with a whole new life to plan.

Now a husband and father of three, Josh is a leader in his field. He got a double master's degree and went on to jobs with great prestige. Head hunters have found him and shipped him off to diverse places around the country, and now he is heading up a new office with even greater opportunities. He's already tearing out walls and redesigning the basement of their new house. He's planning Eco-challenges with his boys, and searching for ways to get off the grid. (He has never been on the grid!) He teaches and inspires those around him with his unique talents and energy.

The Blue Bengal eventually gave out enough sparks to set the road on fire. Josh is doing the same thing.

The Shadow Knows

Could I be turning into a geek?

Today I slept until noon and then took a nap. It's because I'm exhausted. I stay up 'til all hours on the computer almost every night. I never have time to read a book any more, and I haven't been shopping online for months. I am becoming concerned. I check my email before I brush my teeth in the morning, wondering if I've been validated sometime between 2:am and 8.

My friend Kris and I usually have same-track of mind thinking, so I was interested in her post about comments. I've had thoughts exactly opposite of hers. I've decided lurking might not be all bad.

Fred Thompson is a lurker. Not on my blog, I'm sure, but in his presidential race. He sits on the sidelines, and because he's not really in, he doesn't have to be responsible. He hasn't declared himself yet, and therefore he can watch everybody else fall on their face, and wait to see what happens.

In Blogland, lurkers get to observe but they aren't responsible yet, either. They can comment if they feel like it, but nobody expects them to, so they don't feel guilty if they don't. They never wonder what they're going to write about, because they haven't declared to the world that they're posting opinions on a daily basis. And they don't worry that they'll hurt some one's feelings or lose a reader if they don't respond to a comment within 24 hours, because they have no readers. It doesn't seem fair. I realize, however, that I have put this responsibility on myself. Nobody is making me stay up all night....this is a hobby!

So, I'm going back into lurkdom. I'm still going to post whenever I feel like it, which will be almost daily, but I'm not going to stress about it if it's midnight and I don't have a topic. I'm going to comment when I have time, but not respond to every comment. I know that sounds lame, but you don't know what I go through when I compose a comment. I come up with a great paragraph or two, then realize I'm plagiarizing either the author or the other commenters, so I rewrite it. Then I check my spelling, and because I haven't figured out how to use spellcheck on comments, I'm using a dictionary. After re-reading it, I decide it's a dumb comment anyway, and usually change it to "Great post!" I start the exercise all over again on the next blog I read.

I always check the blog of anyone who comments on mine, and in order to leave a sincere comment on theirs, I read several of the former posts. I've usually spent a couple of hours on the computer doing all this before I even start writing my own article (which is how I think of my post.) I've stopped surfing the web, because I don't have time to find anyone new to feel responsible towards. I have a list of blogs in my bookmarks that I saved for a time I had time, and I've never even gone back to them.

So, if I've been commenting regularly on your blog and you don't hear from me for a while, just know that I'm still reading it every time it lights up my bloglines. If you comment on mine, you can be assured I'm thrilled to know I said something that connected us, although I might not get back to you. I just feel like I need to back off a little bit, and get some sleep! I can't become a total geek! But, I'll be lurking in the shadows.

An Attorney, in Brief

This is my lawyer. I used to be fooled by his innocent demeanor, but he won me over so often I decided it was no contest. One of our early debates was over his bedtime. I was unhappy because he was riding the headboard of his bed and yelling "Yee-hah!" while using his bathrobe tie as a whip to gallop faster towards midnight. I went into his room for the 100th time, temper flaring, and announced very firmly that he was supposed to be asleep. He responded with, "Mom, you're beautiful when you're angry." Of course I tucked him in with snuggles and tickles, and he knew he had me.

We used to have interviews with the kids on Sunday afternoons. Dee and I would alternate and invite one child or another in to chat. The idea was to let them know we cared about their inner psyches, and to find out what was going on in their crazy, little minds. One Sunday I was visiting with Miggs (age 6) and I asked him if he had any problems. He hesitantly said, "Yes, just one." I coaxed a little, reassuring him that he could confide in me without concern. He finally said, "I can't fly. I've tried and tried, but I still can't." I must have given him a good answer because he took off about that time and he's still flying!

He is a fabulous writer. He became a journalist in Jr. High. He worked for the school paper there and continued through high school. I caught him sluffing at a local coffee shop, during school hours, and he convinced me it wasn't really sluffing, "It's where the journalists hang out." By then I was used to believing him. I envisioned him as Bob Woodward. When my friends reported they'd seen him there, I told them it was part of his job. In college he continued to work for a newspaper. In fact that's how he met his wife.

He interviewed her for a job. He could feel the sparks flying, and told me later she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He saw her later that day on campus. He gave her his best imitation of Clark Kent, daily reporter of a great metropolitan newspaper, and she gave him a disgusted, get lost kind of response. The sparks had gone out. He met her again at a party that weekend, and she was all "Come, hither," which confused him. She solved the mystery by explaining that she was a twin! He'd seen her sister on campus, who had no clue that he had been subtly encouraged to make his move. He had found the girl of his dreams, but he had to figure out which one she was. It all worked out and they got married in the end.

She became the wind beneath his wings and he was definitely flying now. He honed his idealism by working for the ACLU, and graduated with an English major. He and his wife posed in matching caps and gowns with their 6 month old baby. It was on to Law School to polish his briefs and learn billing skills. With those abilities and another baby in tow, he set off to make his mark.

For me, one of the great joys of being a mother is discovering the traits kids have brought with them. Before I had kids, I thought they were like a chunk of clay that I would mold into the person I wanted. Now I see them as a chunk of marble waiting (like Michelangelo's figures) to be freed from inside. I think of myself as chinking away a few pieces of stone until they can stretch out and remove the rest of the rock themselves. Then we'll both discover who they've been all along.

This particular kid was a charmer from day one. In fact the first day I took him to church was the Sunday before Christmas, when he was two weeks old. I laid him in his infant seat on the floor while I got the other kid's coats off. An ancient man who I'd never seen before and never saw again stood gazing down at the baby. He looked up at me and solemnly said, "This is a special spirit sent from God to you. God knows where he is and will watch over him. He is more intelligent than most, and has a great work to do." I don't know if this guy was moved by the Christmas story, senile, or just stating the obvious (couldn't this apply to any baby?) but it was impressive to me. I always felt privileged to have Miggs in my home.

I had to confront a few of my own devils as I was raising Miggs. At age five he came home with a few catchy four-letter words, and one particularly catchy three letter word. Knowing he hadn't learned them from me (I used different four-letter words), but realizing my own vocabulary was star-studded at times, I made a pact with him that if he didn't swear, I wouldn't either. I don't know if that changed him at all, but it changed me. Twenty eight years later I still remember my promise to him if one of those words slips out.

I could often recognize a lie because I had become proficient at them myself as a teenager. I could sometimes "feel" that Miggs was protecting me from his antics, and we had many little chats about what he'd told me and what had really gone on. One dark wintry afternoon he told me that he and his high school buddies were going to play basketball. He had a broken arm at the time, so I questioned him about playing with his cast. He joked me off and said he'd be home by dinner. I could tell there was a lie in there somewhere, but there was nothing to confront him with so off he went.

By the time dinner was cleaned up I was getting nervous. I had called around and found that there hadn't been a basketball game amongst the friends that day. I knew he would not want to be caught in his own web, and would be trying to get home on time, so I worried that something serious had happened. By 8:pm I was pacing the floor, letting loose with all my star-studded words, and at 9:pm I felt like throwing up. Finally the phone rang.

Apparently they had gone up into the mountains deer hunting (in the dark? with guns? no adults? without telling anyone where they were going?....oh, no, no, no, no,...this was so not allowed...) and had killed a deer far from the road. They were dragging a two million pound deer a mile or more and decided they needed to gut it. With his arm in a cast, my mountain man had reached in and pulled out all the insides of the dead animal. With a lightened load, they made it back to the truck and down the canyon safely.

I don't remember what happened to the poor deer, but my poor dear could not argue his way out of this one. He received justice. For one thing, no amount of cologne poured down his cast could cover the stench of his sins. He lived with that for another four weeks. He also had to find his girlfriend another date for the prom, (but he still had to pay for it) while he sat at home and counted up his billable hours. I think it may have been during this time that he learned to write numerous defense arguments, only to have a wise judge shoot them down. The Supreme Court was just as harsh, and this infraction is written up in the annals of our family.

The prediction came true. Miggs has always been involved in great works. He's been a star athlete, a leader, a counselor, a teacher, an adviser, trusted in his young life with huge responsibilities, which he's handled magnificently. He is kind, and fair, exacting and very intelligent, plus funny and fun and witty.

Experience is a great teacher, and Miggs has become a wise father to four darling kids. The girls are brilliant and perfect like their mother and the boys are going to follow in their father's footsteps. When one of them throws rocks at the sheriff's windows, and then dashes in yelling, "Mom, Mom! Do we have a lawyer???" She'll calmly say, "Yes, Dear, we have a lawyer."

Sink Your Teeth Into It

I've always admired people who bite off more than they can chew, and then chew it.

Illustration from Dinosaur Roar by Paul and Henrietta Stickland

Life Can Be Easier

Searching for the remote always made me mad. I had a perfect spot to keep it right on top of the TV, but it was never there. No matter how often I reminded my household to return it to it's proper home, I usually found it between the cushions of the couch. One day it dawned on me: maybe it should live there! As soon as I changed my mind, and accepted things as they always had been, the remote was always where it should be! One less reason to be mad.

Here are a few other tidbits of organization I've incorporated along the way, that might seem obvious, but escaped my logic for many years. I became a happier person when I accepted the natural flow of the household.

1. The Dining Room table was lovely, and I liked to keep it ready at all times for the china, sterling and turkey that graced it once a year. In reality it was covered with scrapbook projects, homework assignments, books and backpacks. It was a constant irritation, and therefore a source of constant conversation about when all this stuff would be moved. When I started thinking of it as the Library, instead of the dining room, it didn't bother me as much. I just changed the name and use of the room in my mind, and my mood changed. Plus we added a very functional room, without any work!
2. There was always a stack of catalogs sitting on the ottoman in the family room. That's where I left them after perusing them, while I was contemplating making purchases. It made things look out of place and messy. I found a basket in another room, stocked it with reading glasses, a red pen and some colorful post-its. I put in a cute file folder for the keepers and a handy-dandy plastic garbage bag stashed for the garbage. Hobby available+ cleanup handy=Perfect Match. When a catalog arrives, it's dropped in the basket by the ottoman. It's there for multi-tasking, and it looks like it belongs there.
3. I was always mad at my boys for not putting their dirty clothes in the hamper, in their bathroom. The socks and underwear, plus pants, and T-shirts were continually dropped on the floor at the bottom of their beds. Always quick, I finally figured out that they'd chosen the spot for the hamper and I had misplaced it. When they could lay in their beds and make points by tossing their socks into the basket, things got put away. We were all winners.
   
4. I bought a very cute Vera Bradley eye glass case for the end table where I watch TV. But, I don't keep my glasses there. It holds fingernail clippers, a nail file, a chap stick, and a tiny pad and pen. My essential TV paraphernalia is right at hand in a charming little container.
5. I keep clocks in the bathrooms. It eliminates all that yelling about how little time we've got to do a full make-over before the big event.
   
6. I buy multiples of scissors, tape, markers, etc. and place them in a cup in every room I use them. They'll never be lost. No more yelling, "Where's my scissors?"
7. The obvious: I keep the stuff I never use in the inconvenient spots, and the stuff I always use in the handy spots.
   
8. I keep approved kids snacks on the lower shelves, so they don't have to scale the pantry walls.
9. Have a basket at the bottom of the stairs and one at the top, so you can put the stuff you need to take up or down in the basket.
10. Rotate toys periodically and they will feel new.
11. Rehang your pictures in different rooms. They'll seem new.
12. If you always do the kids hair in the kitchen, keep the stuff in there.
13. Anywhere there is always a stack of stuff is where that stuff should be kept. The kids coats on the floor of the family room? Get a coat rack and keep it there.
14. If you want something to be used, make it handy, for instance: a dictionary? keep it where homework is done; soap? by every sink; message pad? keep it next to the phone.
    
15. Keep bill paying stuff wherever you actually pay your bills. Have a basket with stamps, return address stamps, checkbook, pen, calculator and bills, etc., on the top of the fridge if you pay them at the kitchen table, or in your nightstand it you pay them in bed.
16. Keep a cute covered basket of diaper essentials,( including non-toxic room spray, wipes, and zip-lock bags) in the kitchen, family room, bathroom, so they are available wherever you and your stinky baby might be. Take care of these things quickly!
17. Keep a basket filled with TP rolls on the back of the toilet so it's always available. It's embarrassing to call out, "Can you spare a square?" from that most vulnerable of positions.
18. When little ones are noticed hiding behind the door, or under the table during adult conversations, pretend not to see them. The stuff they're learning is the stuff of life. You can't teach it in all it's variables in any university class, but it's vital for a general education.
19. Let the kids figure out the tip. It teaches them manners and generosity.
20. Instead of keeping shoes upstairs in bedroom closets, keep them by the back door. Insist they come off immediately when everyone comes in the door. They're easily found again, and muddy shoes are kicked off by habit. This makes the daily search for the shoe game shorter, and happier because mom usually wins.

Most of these ideas are just common sense, but since common sense isn't very common, I'm suggesting them to make everyone's life a little easier. Do you have some to add?

Illustration by my favorite contemporary artist: Mary Engelbreit.

The Collection Plate

What do you collect?

Dee is a collector extraordinaire. He's collected the real collectibles: first editions, cameras, stamps, etc., but his coolest collections are of the ephemera variety. He gathers unique matchbooks, coasters, menus, antique postcards, old passports, ticket stubs, pocket knives...whatever. His office is like a museum of his interests, and experiences. If you poked around in there for an hour you would know more about him than if you talked to him for a week.

I've never thought of myself as a collector. I like to organize, and weed out. Looking around, however, I see that I have a bunch of stuff that represents me, too. Here's the short list:

1. Blue and white plates
2. Illustrated Children's books
3. Alarm clocks
4. Little decorative boxes
5. Buttons
6. Broaches
7. Scarves
8. Baskets
9. Ornate miniature frames
10. Old calendars

What's on your collection plate?

Little Boy Lost

The elevator opened and out walked a little boy. He was all alone, about two years old, with a binky firmly plugged in his mouth. I said, "Hi! Who do you belong to?" He just looked at me and started toddling towards the hall, like he knew where he was going. I took his hand and said, "Let's go find your mom."

He wasn't worried, or afraid of me. He didn't even know he was lost. I wondered if anyone knew he was lost. Our building has eight floors, each with 35 apartments, and three elevators. Plus our apartment complex has a second, taller building connected with a hallway. There's an additional entrance lobby over there, and there are underground parking levels for both buildings. This little guy could have come from anywhere! Maybe he'd just wandered out his front door and caught a ride, and nobody had noticed his getaway.

I punched all the buttons and we rode down together, holding hands. At each stop I stepped out and looked around, and then we continued our ride. Finally the door opened on a woman who was crying, hanging onto three little kids of various ages, frantically talking to one of our managers. I knew we'd found Mom. She scooped up my little friend and hugged him, saying to me, "Thank you, oh thank you so much!"

It turns out they were visiting someone, and while the mom was figuring out which way to go, her little boy disappeared. The elevator must have opened, he walked in unnoticed, and when I rang for it on the 7th floor, the doors closed and he was on his way. It had only been a minute or two, but when you've lost your baby, that's a long, long time.

Have you ever wandered into a part of your life and felt lost? Or maybe you didn't even know you were lost yet, but others noticed you were missing and set out to find you. I think it happens a lot. We get caught in the thick of thin things, and lose sight of our priorities.

I read somewhere that on a regular basis we should ask ourselves:

1. Who are the most important people in my life? Do I spend the time with them?
2. What is my #1 goal right now? Did I spend any time this week working towards it?
3. What makes me happy? When was the last time I did it?
4. Am I contributing anything positive to the world?
5. Am I becoming who I want to be?
   

We all get off on the wrong floor occasionally, and wander purposefully, though aimlessly until someone points out that maybe we're lost. Here's to finding the way back!