Geraldine Gwen "Casey" Hill

I've saved Geri's Wordpress blog pages just in case it is ever removed. I want to save some of the things she has written.

The actual URL is http://gkchill.wordpress.com/

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HelloAgain
September 28, 2012 by gkchill

Lots of things have changed in the 2 years since I did a blog last. Some things I will talk about in my blog and some are still too painful to put “out there”. I am still living in Arnold. I still look out the window and see a deer, sometimes 5 at a time. I still belong to a Writer’s group. I have written a short story which much to my dismay got lost on a crashed computer, but not before the girls in my group had all given me a “Thumbs Up”. So I am all set to start anew on a story on my brand new computer and private WIFI.

This last month I read about 20 paperbacks in the series of “The Cat Who…” I have really enjoyed living in her world while I was recovering from a strained back. I am so much better now.

Now I get to read my granddaughters blog from France – Jasmine my oldest grandchild is attending a semester in a university in France. I am so happy for her. Her sis India Jayneis in highschool and playing basketball quite well. My youngest granddaughters, Avery and Angelajust got involved in basketball, which was a pleasure to see. Rebecca and Madison Casey, Joey’s daughters are into volleyball and gymnastics and doing so well. Their Dad has a great new job and theyare building a new home as we speak, yah for Holly!. Daniel just rebuilt his vintage Camaro and his brood and Jill still live downstairs and Danni (1 yr) is thriving and a daily joy to me and grandpa. Kandy just went to Vegas with her girl buds and I know they had too much fun. LOL Keith is in a new Job and has already secured a paid vacation for them in some tropical setting. Kim and Ken are busy with two kids in sports. One of them is my youngest grandson Jack who I hope to see before he grows as tall as his mother. My one other grandson has a girlfriend I hear and they walk hand in hand along the Murphys creek. He lives in Murphys with his mother now, a good move for him since he is close to highschool and his friends. He will be a senior next year.

Joe is growing a beard and looking a lot like Sean Connery or Hemmingway. He still works two days a week in Security. Wow this is the warmest September I ever remember, but it is nice in the mountain air…I only feel the real heat when we drive to Sonora once a week. Ok this is a start, I will try to write often from now on. God Bless you and keep you.
-Geri

DearMe…..
August 20, 2010 by gkchill

Well, today was my first day back at Curves after years of backsliding. It was a relief when I walked in, there was only me and the lady who talked to me, signed me up and took all the measurements they take when you start.

In my mind, I barely had hopes of going around one circuit, much less the three you are supposed to. Each station is 30 seconds, and every other station is a machine. But I make it around two times and did every machine. There were two I had my doubts about as I doubt my flexibility …but I did them all and was so proud. Each recovery station is one in which you just move, some have specific instructions, but eventually everyone does what they want to between machines. Two other ladies came in meanwhile and later another two. By the time I got to the stretching and cool down part – it was very emotional for me. Janice, who helped me thru it all is a cancer masectomy survivor, and was so encouraging. At the finish we both cried and she encouraged me to come at least 3 times a week. She said no matter how I felt tomorrow, I should return. I won’t quit but I can see this won’t be easy at the start. I will continue swimming as long as I can, but now it will be nice to have an exercise program when the pool closes. I am doing this for myself but actually because of my daughters. They are so encouraging and one made a deal with me, and she is paying the membership, a little added incentive for me not to give up. She is sneaky!

Day two was uneventful; I went at 9:45 so I could be back before my hubby left for work. I got reacquainted with Janet a friend that I knew. She was also there on Day 3 when I arrived. So I think that this time period is good for me. Although it should take only 30 minutes, I took a little extra time on machines when I wasn’t rushed. Funny because on two machines it takes me so much time to get in and situated that it is already time to move on…. so I try to count how many times I work a certain machine, so I will be consistent. The last thing you do before you leave is the stretch/cool-down station. If you are fast it takes five minutes, but I take my time, as I do not want to injure any muscle while learning how to use them. It feels so good to be in the program again, and it reminds me that I can do certain things at home…I have been sore. So I take my meds and just work through it. I am still on my blood pressure medication and probably rightly so. Maybe after some good results I can get off of them some day.

Day four I struggled with sore toes. It seems like there is always something there ready to discourage me. But I took a pill for pain and went anyway. Plowing through a day at a time is the only solution.

Day six is Thursday, August 19, 2010. I went in at 9:30 and it was just Janice who works there and Janet and I. It is really nice, because we get to visit and exercise. It isn’t easy for a lot of people. For Janet energy is a constant struggle. As for me I finally got my pulse rate up to where it should be exercising, then I got curious and weighed. I was down 3 pounds. It is encouraging but I still have 97 pounds to go.

Today I also got a reminder that today is what is important. I did a search on the Internet for a childhood friend and to my surprise instead I found her obituary. Jewel Harris was my best friend in 5th, 6th and 7th grade. We had lots of nice kid memories and now I find she died in April. It doesn’t say why she died but it did say she was active and involved all her life, so that made me feel happy for her.

I have rededicated myself to staying healthy and happy and as helpful to others as I can be.

Bloom where you are…
July 6, 2010 by gkchill

I think sometimes how sweet it would be to have an hour with my mother again. She passed on in 1991. She was always ready with a word of encouragement or advice that really just made me look deep inside my heart.

We all need someone special that provides a word fitly spoken”. Many times we have a friend throughout our lives that we can depend on to always be there for us. But sometimes life comes along and changes people. So as women we need to be resourceful.

It is wonderful to find that when our daughters blossom into women, that we can talk to as equals, and it is such a pleasant surprise when we find they are sometimes smarter than we were at that age. I am extremely lucky to have two daughters that I find so easy to love, and that we can now have a mutual respect for the other’s experiences.

I have always laid store in the fact that I had a friend, who I was close to for over 40 years. I always pictured the two of us sitting in our rocking chairs on our porch talking about ourselves and our memories. Many things can happen to change the reality of that dream. Things we have no control over. It can be death or sickness or distance that changes things. Sometimes it can be such a gradual growing apart, that you don’t even realize it’s happening. Still agonizing to feel the loss of that special something.

Then is when we need to be resourceful. For some reason I have been dreaming of my mother recently. She is always there being quietly supportive, perhaps she is really just a part of me. We take the best parts of those we have love and lost and make them a part of us as we mature.

I would encourage you, as you tackle your day. To talk to the one you love and miss, even imagine them telling you something (let your heart hear their voice)…they may be absent, but all the people you love are still a part of your subconscious. I can hear a song that brings tears to my eyes, or makes me laugh, and I allow myself to feel the feelings…miss the person but keep them in my heart.

As we grow older, life becomes so dear and the smallest kindness is treasured. We should never isolate ourselves from new relationships and new friendships. People need interaction with other people to keep them real…to keep them balanced and even if they are not that friend of 40 years. God will continue to bless his children – us. And it seems we each have a life assignment and if negative forces determined to separate us from the feelings of self worth and individuality…we need to remember that nothing can separate us from the love of God, and that we all have a path that is right for us. No one can tell you what your truth is! There are always those who will try, but hang on to your authenticness, your individuality and bloom where you are, letting God bless you and who you are and who you are meant to be.

The ones you love are always near you, even when you may feel alone and lonely. Embrace yourself and Embrace each day! Love, Pray and Live! …and even embrace change, as it always happens.

College Days…
June 5, 2010 by gkchill

I graduated from Santa Cruz High School in June of 1962. That September I enrolled at Cabrillo Jr. College in Aptos. We were still living out in the boonies on Mountain View Rd. I was majoring in Elementary Education because at the time I though I wanted to be a teacher. Ironic, I ending up being a teacher of four (my kids).

I took some pretty basic classes. Political Science, Biology, French, Art History, Speech and English Literature. At first my Dad drove me, but then he let me use the car occasionally. I drove out the back way, past Rodeo Gulch to the Old San Jose Rd and then into Soguel and on to Aptos.

I really enjoyed my classes the first year, but was unprepared for the lack of pressure to get things done…I took copious notes, but didn’t join a reading group, so I got behind in all the reading…and when final exams came around, I was panicked. I enjoyed French Class, as the teacher would ignore you, if you spoke to him in English, so I took 3 semesters of French. I liked Speech class and Art History was great. Biology and Poly Sci I only passed by the skin of my teeth,

In 1963, I was in with my Art History buddies when JFK was shot. So a bunch of us left together and went to one of their homes to listen to the TV.

After that, I met a guy, strange but now I have even forgotten his name. He got to talking to me between classes, he was very handsome and flirted a lot with me. We got to where we met every day, months passed and he was starting to talk about us maybe going on a date. Then one weekend, I heard in the class that we shared, that he had been killed in a terrible freak accident. He and a friend had been drinking and were parked somewhere on West Cliff drive, when he must have stepped on the gas, thinking he was in reverse, and his car just plunged off the cliff and landed top down on the rocks and ocean below, killing him instantly.

I cut class a few days later to attend the memorial services in Watsonville, but they had been changed and so to get closure for myself I drove down to New Brighton Beach and sat on a long listening to the waves. Something about the ocean had always been a spiritual thing for me…the power of the undertow, the regularity of the waves…the force and power of water. Anyway I cried my tears for a boy I knew enough to like but would never know enough to love. After that something happened to me inside. I realized what I really wanted to do was get a job and quit college for a while until I knew what direction I really wanted to go in. I had two different boyfriends during this time. I was almost 20 and had marriage on my mind. That was a time before women realized there was no rush.

My parents were supportive, so I interviewed at the County Bank of Santa Cruz and got a job in the bookkeeping/control department. I think I got the job because someone there knew me from church. Taking this job would change my life and introduce me to the man that I would spend the next 45 years with.

Some Angels Are Human…
June 4, 2010 by gkchill

It was 1960 and my social life revolved around my church group. My dad said no dating until I turned 16, so I was looking forward to the beach party our recreation leader had planned at New Brighton Beach. We lived way out in the boondocks of the Santa Cruz Mountains, so I always had to find a generous driver to ride with. The youth director told my Dad he’d get me home.

It was a fun beach party. We had a lot of fun in the water, then a bonfire and hot dog BBQ. We played beach volleyball, ate, sang songs, an inspirational talk by someone in the group and then we toasted marshmallows to make so’mores. It was my turn to give a talk, so I talked about littering and I made the analogy to how we throw around words, littering with trash talk, swearing and putting people down. Everybody said it was a good talk. I made it short and relevant.

After the party was over, all the stuff was toted to the cars, there was a lot of activity with about thirty kids coming and going. Eventually I started looking around for my ride and discovered to my dismay it was gone. Of course the pay phone wasn’t working, so I figured I may have to walk to a phone or hitch a ride. I was trying not to panic, and so I began to walk to the park entrance to see if there was still an employee on duty. As I was walking, a hot looking blue Chevy pulled alongside me. I recognized the driver as R.L., a really cute guy I had always had a secret crush on. He had another boy in the car with him.

“You need a ride?”

“Yeah, I guess my ride didn’t take a head count. I’m not sure what to do. I live way out Branciforte near St. Clare’s Retreat.”

“ I don’t mind, I am driving to Scotts Valley anyway, I can take Glen Canyon the back way to town.”

I was quickly reminding myself of every caution I was ever given about riding with boys that I didn’t know well. I knew I need to make a quick decision, so I asked God for his protection and guidance.

R.L. smiled and opened his door for me and told me to scoot in between him and the mystery guy, who quickly put out the cigarette he was smoking. I climbed in. I don’t remember what we talked about but I was courteously and safely escorted home. Not wanting my Dad to know who in fact brought me home, I asked him to let me out at the bottom of our driveway. Good thing the moon was out, because it was a dark long walk up to the house. Only my mom was awake when I walked in. I think I probably told her what happened, but Dad never did find out. I figured he’d never forgive the youth director. After that I always thought of this guy as my protector. I learned later, got married to a really nice girl and they had a kid right away. She was expecting their third in 1969, about the same time I was expecting my second when a huge log from a semi truck in the lumber yard rolled off and killed him instantly.

I always remembered what a sweet boy rescued me that night, but glad I wasn’t the one he later widowed so early in life.

Guardian Angels…
April 23, 2010 by gkchill

I have never doubted the presence of guardian angels. There have been innumerable moments in my life that I have know for sure that my life has been in other hands. Accidents, near accidents, and unusual happenstances confirm it day by day.

Recently I went out my front door to check on a noise. I never notice noises when I am with someone, but when I am alone, I always have to know. My friend asked me, “What possible good could come from it?” A proper response I am sure, but if it is a bear, I have to know, if it is a person, I want to know. It is in retrospect a lack of fear, but probably foolish just the same. Anyway, this particular night I heard a door slam, so I went out my front door and climbed the two steps to my driveway. I saw and heard nothing, so instead of taking the stairs back down to my doorway, I missed one and fell headlong onto the concrete porch. I paused for a moment, moaning from the pain, then I pulled myself to a sitting position, took inventory and found nothing broken. I pulled myself up by the door jam and limped shamefully into the house.

In retrospect, I realized my head had narrowly missed a shovel, I had been somehow protected, not even hardly sore the next day. Although two days later, I see that I didn’t help any of my already arthritic joints, but I felt protected from so much worse.

It reminded me of an incident that took place when I was pregnant with my first child. I worked for County Bank in Santa Cruz in the control department where I posted the General Ledger, before the computers came on the scene. The staff lunchroom was across the hallway from our large office. While eating our sandwiches, we were listening to a radio, which was sitting on a window sill on the outer window that looked out on the lower story of the bank roof.

I accidentally brushed against the radio and it fell out of the window onto the roof. There were no screens on the window and in my lack of fear I just straddled the window to reach down and pick it up. I was young and agile even if I was 4 months pregnant. Well I soon found it was a bit further to reach than I thought, so I threw my other leg over the window and stepped with both feet together on what I thought was the roof.

As it turned out, it was a skylight painted over… a brittle glass pane that cracked and let me fall straight through. I however hung up on the sills on either side of the window pane and as I looked down and saw people on the floor below, some 20 feet down, I almost passed out. It could have ended so differently, but me and my first baby were meant to live and I was pulled to safety. Later contemplation on this and many other close calls for myself and my family cause me to continue in my faith in God and knowledge that He does put us in the charge of angels, most times in spite of our innocence, foolishness and fearlessness. Most times I only have the fear later, but find that angels have indeed interceded on my behalf or on one of my family’s behalf. I pray daily for my family, and am constantly asking God to watch over them.

One quick example, has to do with my son-in-law Kenny, who but for the grace of God left the Pentagon before 9-11-01. He was not in the room he would have been in that fateful day because of a decision he and my daughter made. Because of that decision, their three children have a father today.

All my kids have had some close calls, each I am keenly aware of ways in which a worse outcome was thwarted. Each will find their way into one of my future stories, no doubt.

I don’t understand why bad things happen to some people, and why they don’t to others. That is something we will have to wait to find out some day. All I know is that God has been gracious to me, has listened and answered my prayers for protection and traveling mercies. My faith grows with each day, but I realize that I am not indestructible, my day will come to die but although I fear the actual process, I trust that the timing will be perfect in God’s plan for my family. We are taught to come to God like little children, trusting and with wonder.

If I have a wish it is that my family, each in their own way find that personal peace that passes human understanding to see them through their days.

My Acting Debut…
March 19, 2010 by gkchill

In August of 1964, Joe and his brother Jim and I got involved in College Theater. Joe’s mom was drawn to show biz people. So when she found out a choreographer friend of hers (CoraLee) was working on Cabrillo College’s musical “South Pacific”, the three of us were easily roped in, especially since Jim had been in the previous years summer production of “Music Man”.

I had never participated in anything like that in high school. I was much too shy, plus we lived so far up in the mountains, I knew it would be a hardship for my father to drive me to town for rehearsals. I had been out in the workplace for about 6 months, so I was getting braver, so I tried out for the part of a native dancing girl on Bali Hai. Joe and Jim both got parts in the group of army guys who sang and danced on the beach.

I practiced the dancing parts and was approved of but then found I was going to be wearing a very skimpy costume. I knew my father would be attending at least opening night, so I was extremely nervous. Not unjustifiably so, as he was distressed I was willing to be seen in public like that; it was the first of many trials to come between my father and my future in-laws.

I remember my shock when backstage I discovered people were very uninhibited. One girl sat in her bra while people wandered in and out during make-up prep. It was my introduction to the world of acting and working with people of very different temperaments and sense of modesty.

The girl who played the part of Bloody Mary was the local girl who had lost her leg to a shark while surfing on the beach. She played the part so very well, as did the people with singing parts. The group I danced with became skilled in dancing with sticks. I felt like a celebrity and enjoyed the experience and have always wanted to try it again…but haven’t.

I still love all those songs like “101 Pounds of Fun – that’s my little honey bun”, I’m as corny as Kansas in August", "High as a kite on the fourth of July". If you’ll excuse an expression I use, "I’m in love with a wonderful guy.” "I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair” and “There is nothing like a Dame.”

So South Pacific is a part of who I am; was my debut and swan song as an actress. After one night’s performance, Joe proposed and I said, “Yes”.

Spring…
March 18, 2010 by gkchill

When I was young, spring was always a fun season to look forward to. Winters were cold and icy in New Mexico and Texas and spring meant getting to play outside. In Oregon, spring meant wildflowers, walks up the mountain, a new batch of chicks or kittens. During the years we lived in California on the coast, I wasn’t as aware of the four distinct seasons, but living in Arnold has caused me to cherish spring.

I remember many spring rituals. In New Mexico, I remember my mother beating of the carpets out on the clothesline, followed by other spring housecleaning and airing out the house. Easter preparation specially marked by my mother spending time at the sewing machine, making me a new sundress. She boiled up lots of eggs for coloring and hiding. Later there were lots of egg salad sandwiched and deviled eggs. I looked forward to the special music and remembrances of Christ at Easter Sunday services at church. I was amused by the wearing of hats, by women and other little girls. As a child I was never subjected to that particular torture but I always wanted the new dress to wear.

During my teenage years, spring began the tanning time, even if it was cool and sunny sometimes. It was worth being the girl with the tan to show off with the new sundress.

When Joe and I started our own family. Spring was always a time to spray for spiders, clean the windows inside and out, sweeping off the deck and raking in the yard. Getting Easter baskets and clothes for the kiddies. When we first moved to Arnold, the kids were nine, six, two and a babe in arms. The kids all went to Chapel in the Pines, and there were Easter programs and church stuff, and Easter Egg hunts.

2009-2010 has been a long winter for me. We had storm damage, Snow for months and I just couldn’t seem to get warm. I would spend most of my time under my electric blanket reading. The one day we had no electricity, I camped next to the fireplace watching the snow build up outside. Joe has had to practically pry me out of the house. The last few days have been so full of hope. I walk outside and feel the sunshine on my face and hands… I am feeling so blessed and thankful for this particular change of season. There is something about sunshine that makes me happy inside. I love watching the squirrels play in the trees and I love hearing the sounds of birds coming back.

Thank God for a season that can thaw out the heart. Thank goodness for spring.

The stormy vacation…
February 1, 2010 by gkchill

We were looking forward to our cruise from Long Beach to Catalina Island and then on to Encinada, Mexico, a repeat of our first ever cruise. This one we booked a good six months ahead of time and arranged for our son and his family to take their first cruise with us. Little did we know…

Mid-January we had heard the weather report and knew by leaving we were going to miss a big Sierra Nevada storm, which we were happy to miss. Sunday the 17th we drove to LA on a cloudy overcast day and got a good nights rest and a pleasant dinner at Home Town Buffet with the kids. I call them kids, but they are adults and have two kids, 13 and 10. Next morning we slept in and had a leisurely breakfast before making our trek to the Carnival Lines. Now by this time it was windy (about 40 knots) and the 100 foot gangplank was a challenge in the wind and showers. By the time our other friends, Glenda and Cat came aboard, they got soaked in the pouring rain. We all got together at dinner and shared stories. It was a pleasant evening and the waiters sang and danced for us and then went to a song and dance show -Extreme Country. Then we all turned in exhausted but happy to be settled in.

The first one to get sick was Rebecca. Then the next day Holly, followed by Joey. At lunch the next day, no one was allowed near the food and the waiters served us in the buffet line. So we knew some kind of bug was going around Joe, Maddie and I never did get sick on the boat. Miraculously on Thursday we were all well on the day we took tenders from the ship to Cabo San Lucas. Oh, I forgot to mention because of the storms coming into the Pacific they had to totally change our destination…no Catalina, no Encinda, instead a long two days at sea down to Cabo, which turned out to be a beautiful and pleasant destination. We got off at about 10 am and were told to be back on the ship by no later than 5:30 as the ship was sailing at 6 pm. We walked around the waterfront, went shopping, got serenaded by mariachis and did a lot of bonding. The Six of us had a wonderful Mexican Dinner on a patio in the plaza.

My favorite spot on the deck was on the Lido deck, where there is open air, but you are sheltered from the winds. Friday We had to vacate our rooms by noon, so the staff could get ready for the next cruise and since we were late returning, we perched staked out a place for the family to sit and wait for hours to disembark. It was dark when we finally got off the boat. After all that it took Joey 8 hours to drive home which formerly only took 4 hours – there was snow on the Tehatchipi pass. So they got home at 3 am and Holly had to be to work at 7am. On the other hand, Joe and I spend a night in Long Beach and I got sick at 4 in the morning. The next day (Saturday) it took Joe and I an hour to get out of Long Beach as we took a wrong road and had to make a big circle. After that it was smooth sailing and we decided to stop and spend the night at our daughters in La Grange.

About 9 am we trekked on home, only to spend another couple of hours trying to get up the hill past PG&E, AT&T and Tree removal services. What a maze of fallen trees and downed lines. Our home looked like a war zone and Daniel and his family told us about their harrowing night of the wind and snow. One tree had snapped and took out part of our deck and then turned sideways and hit the chimney wire mesh cover and then fell into the bed of a pickup in the driveway. It was like a miracle the roof was not damaged. We were so glad to be home until we found out the electricity had been off for 4 days… but as luck was with us it was repaired by 4 pm on Saturday and we had phones and electricity. I crawled in my electric blanket and covered my head and thanked God for all his protection and for all the little coincidences that made life bearable. I don’t look back on it as a bad vacation. It was challenging but as my husband put it best, it was a vacation we won’t soon forget.

My most unforgettable character…
January 9, 2010 by gkchill

My mother-in-law, God Rest her Soul, was either Nana or Dee to anyone she knew, although her legal name was Genevieve Beatrice Williams-Hill. I don’t even know where to start in describing this woman. She was an enigma and learning to live pleasantly with her was the challenge of a lifetime. She was as fierce as a mother bear with her sons. No one would be good enough. She said someday I’d know how she felt. I do. At the time she drove me to insanity, well almost.

She was the daughter to Alpha Omega and a Texas oilman named Burt Williams. She was raised like a princess who just assumed the orange juice would be by her bedside in the morning. She wore a $20 gold piece around her neck and on a whim gave it to a little girl she met. She rebelled against her parents and married to get away early. She had four sons. The first two had other fathers. My husband and his brother were full brothers, and she was married to their Papa Joe for over 40 years before she died.

She was trained as a classical and jazz pianist. During WWII she played for the USO dances given in Texas for the servicemen. It was during this time she met Louis Armstrong and Pearl Bailey. Pearl became a life long friend who treated Dee very gratiously when became reacquainted in later life. Everyone thought she was just bragging about a celebrity that she really didn’t know, as she was known to tell little white lies when it suited her. But when Pearlie Mae appeared in San Jose and the family got to go backstage and meet her…well, we all ate humble pie. Whenever Pearl appeared in Las Vegas in the 60’s Dee was sitting right up front. And when Dee got sick, Pearly Mae gave her a wildly expensive purple velvet stuffed fox that was about 4 feet tall.

You never wanted to be on the bad side of this woman, it was a terrible position to be in, as I learned early on. If she was angry at one person, she was mad at everyone, and we all had to hear her ranting and raving about the incident that happened and if it was in your power to get the person who erred to apologize to her, it was best for everyone. I remember once I was the target of her anger, and I don’t even remember why, but I had to sit until she got it all out of her system, it took about an hour and I remember actually tuning her out at one point, as I sat looking at the ground. Only later in life did I learn how to disagree with her, actually Joe and I had to do it as a couple, as a united front. On New Years in 1978 we decided to rent a house up in Arnold with just the kids, we were on her bad list for months, she wouldn’t talk to us and when she did it was icy. After that, it got easier to make some of our own decisions. At the time I thought I had the mother-in-law from hell, but looking back, I see she was probably just menopausal in its worst form. We didn’t really realize what was wrong and why it was so bad. She had a weird air and feeling an entitlement to things…If she was treated badly in pubic or got bad service, you wanted to crawl under the table, while she verbally in a big voice told them off. She thought nothing of taking a salt shaker or whatever she thought she deserved in repayment for their treatment.

On the other hand, she could be more fun and entertaining with a wonderful sense of humor and she knew how to dress and act like a woman of means. She was a good mother, a big obsessive, but her boys were her life and if you messed with them, you were messing with trouble. She adored her grandchildren and spoiled them to no end, and they learned early not to cross her, but she knew how to play with and entertain them. She taught me a lot of life lessons, mainly patience, and how not to treat my children. I was forever glad she lived in Las Vegas and not next door. She was a second home to all her Las Vegas neighborhood kids and they all called her Nana and her husband Jake was Papa. My two older kids loved to spend the summer with her.

I have yet to meet anyone else like her. She was a one of a kind and totally unforgettable. From time to time I see traits of hers in my kids…but thankfully they all picked one trait and use it for the good. None of them will take any crap off anyone. Thanks Nana, for sharing your son. She died in 1987 from complications of a Recluse Spider Bite. She didn’t have to linger as an invalid, as that would have been totally out of character. She knew when to make an entrance and when to leave. The night she dies there was the most terrible thunder and lightning storm which I always attributed to her giving St Peter whatfor!

My Father…
December 19, 2009 by gkchill

My father, Una Uriah Casey was born in Fulton, Mississippi in 1891. Sometime around 1900, his family moved to Mangum, Oklahoma. He was the 2nd oldest of 10. After settling in, his father bought him a shoeshine kit so he made a box and swung it over his shoulders and started shining shoes in the streets and in stores for a nickel. Later he washed dishes at the Carbine Hotel in north Mangum for a Mrs. Estlebaum. Then he worked at Moore Bros. Bakery greasing pans. He got thirty-five cents for both these jobs, Eventually he went to work for a man, chopping cotton for $1 a day. His older brother got to work at the meat market, which their father finally bought in about 1907. So when my father was strong enough his father had him grinding sausage and chopping meat. In my father’s words “Once Dad bought a new meat chopper (a bowl-shaped thing with two knives that cut the meat fed by hand). I must have overfed the “blasted thing” for it clipped off my middle finger. I picked up the stub and ran down the alley to Dr. Stovall’s office. He asked me why I bought the stub along. I insisted he stick it back on, which he did.”

At the age of 18, he records that he become a born again Christian and was baptized. About the same time but unrelated, he bought a 22 caliber rifle, his first gun. He recorded the following memories about the town; after the rains, they had to lay down planks to walk on for sidewalks over the mud on the main streets. There was an ample hitching post, and watering troughs for the horses. There were professional horse traders and the wagon yard was always busy. Farmers were furnished bunk beds and even a stove where they could cook a snack if they were short of cash.

He went overseas with the 105th aero squadron, leaving for France in November of 1917. At the age of 28 and mustered out (discharged) July 1919. He wrote to my mother and several of her sisters while he was overseas, they were 3rd cousins. Then he said “Burton Summers and me secured a homestead in Lincoln County, New Mexico near Corona. We were only together about a week when Burton was struck by lightning and killed instantly. I went ahead and proved upon my section in one year. I had no desire to continue in the meat market business with dad and my brother in Mangum. Like most of the boys that returned from overseas, I was a bit restless. So I took off from Oklahoma in April of 1922 and ended up in Seattle after a week and stayed there until July 31st when I left for Los Angeles, CA.

He singled out my mother Viola, as his special girl pen pal and after proposing by mail and asking her parents permission, he sent for her to take the train to Temple City, CA. That September they were married in a parsonage and later honeymooned on Catalina Island.

The Magic of Childhood…
December 9, 2009 by gkchill

My mom and dad and I lived in the little town of Rogue River, Oregon back in the early 1950’s. I was in the 1st, 2nd and third grade there. My friends and I had wonderful imaginary worlds at our beck and call. Our favorite at school was acting out and making up scenes from Tarzan and Jane. The minute we were at recess the play began. Sometimes as many as six of us were involved in the same fantasy play. We didn’t waste time fussing about who was what, depending on who was available to play. We ran and chased and rescued the whole hour. When the boys were not available, and the group was down to a few girls then we’d become trapeze artists (after the movie “the Big Top” with Burt Lancaster) or we’d be ballerinas or dancers while we just played on the swings.

When my family moved to Texas I was in the 4th, 5th and 6th grades. Westerns were popular in the mid 50’s. So we played Roy Rogers and Dale Evans with horses, or another game where we used old jewelry and were princes and princesses. During all this time, when I was alone or with just one friend, paper dolls were the imaginary world of choice. My mother introduced me to Montgomery Wards Catalogues and a rainy day was the perfect venue for outfitting a whole house or cutting out clothes.

I still correspond with one of the girls who loved this childhood world of play. She now lives in Washington DC on Pennsylvania Avenue, in Georgetown. A few years ago, my husband and I took the metro to Foggy Bottom and walked up to her apartment building that she lives in, and has for many years. We visited for hours and reminisced the whole time. As children we met by chance. She was of Indian heritage and lived on the adjoining ranch. A large pasture of cows and horses separated us. One day she slipped and the school bus ran over her foot. Her teacher asked if I would pick up homework for her, as she was bedridden for months. A friendship bloomed and we escaped into the world of paper dolls. Finally when she could walk we would spread a blanket on the ground over in my yard . We pressed the grass down to make rooms, and then spend hours dressing our dolls for a ball.

I played paper dolls until I was 13 and my neighbor introduced me to a whole new interest….boys. By this time I lived in Felton, California. Giving up the world of make-believe was a traumatic transition for me, soon traded for secrets and crushes. Later, my high school English teacher would say I had a good imagination; thus encouraged writing became my best thing to do, well reading may be the best thing…still is.

Memories of NewYork
December 2, 2009 by gkchill

If I were asked, have you ever been to New York? Yes, I have. It was an exciting and memorable experience. I am glad I went for many reasons. Growing up I had always considered it the ultimate place to visit in the U.S., so in 2002 when we took a plane to Baltimore to go and visit my oldest daughter and her family in Virginia, we decided to take a scenic side trip to see Delaware, New Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania.

We rented a car in Maryland and went to see Fort McHenry in Chesapeake Bay. We were there a couple of hours absorbing all the history at the site where the British tried to come in and about how Frances Scott Keys wrote, from the port hold of the ship, a poem that was to become ” the Star Spangled Banner” – Oh say can you see, by the dawns early light… and how the flag was still there that morning.

Then we drove across Delaware, accidentally catching the ferry to New Jersey’s Cape May. Next we drove up the coast to the Atlantic City boardwalk where we spent the night. We walked through Donald Trump’s Taj Mahal and walked along the boardwalk although it was windy and rainy.

When we left the next morning, it was overcast but not rainy. The turnpike from Atlantic City to New York City cost us $12 in toll fees. We drove through the Lincoln Tunnel and then to our hotel on 55th Ave. which was in the middle of a block, right near a subway entrance, a couple of blocks from Central Park. In the other direction was a Dunk n’ Donuts and the Ed Sullivan Theatre. We were in the middle of our own little universe.

The first evening I asked Joe to bring me some soup. He brought me a big Matzo Ball soup. I have never seen or tasted a tastier soup. It was raining the next day, everyone seemed to take it in stride, so we did too. We bought an umbrella and took the subway up to the Empire State Building, and opted for lunch there instead of going up on the tower, which was closed due to the weather. We did spend some time looking at the 911 site, and was amazed that two huge towers had been there previously; at this point most of the ruins had been removed. One whole side of a nearby skyscraper was draped with what seemed like a widow’s veil. I am not sure why it was there, but it seemed somehow cosmically appropriate. I felt a strange spiritual sort of sadness standing there thinking about the loss of life.

We chose an Italian Restaurant just down the street that last night. The food was delicious. We had decided to stay a second day before driving on to Virginia by way of Pennsylvania and on to Gettysburg. We went on to have a nice visit with family, coming home with lots of “I (heart) New York t-shirts”. The one memory of that trip that I regret was that early in this trip I sprained my ankle causing me to cancel a reunion with my cousin; and it turned out to be the only opportunity we’d have, as she died a few years later.

Tomorrow is December 2, and I will be 65. I am grateful for the precious memories I have, as they total up to what I am now.

What would we be without the thousands upon thousands of tiny memories stored in our brain? I treasure them. When I remember to, I share them.

Tolerance – A NewAmerica
November 19, 2009 by gkchill

In our world today, there are people who only see their own point of view. In their smugness and claim to rightness label others who look at things differently as ignorant. This can only cause a fracturing of America, first among family and then among friends and outward to community.

Our forefathers , a conglomerate of men who had different ideas and thoughts, but a desire to make a break from the mother country (who dictated what they had to believe), wanted freedom of religion and freedom of speech and other basic freedoms.

In 1776, conservatives and liberalists met to come to a meeting of the minds, but today both the conservative people and the liberals have formed new and opposite mother countries and are finding more and more that people are tired of being told “if you don’t believe this, you are ignorant”. This is such a destructive force. We need some fresh young minds in politics that will take us back to tolerance and a thirst for liberty and personal growth that forms a new country of people capable of carrying on dialogue without hate and fear of being labeled one way or the other.

Patrick Henry said, “Give me liberty or give me death”. Liberty is Freedom, freedom to speak and discuss without fear of reprisal. Hatred in the form of “I’m right and you are wrong” talk is destroying the motivation of good people to even get involved in politics. Those who spew out condemnation to Americans exercising their own freedoms, need to quit promoting intolerance and need to promote compassion for all peoples that make up the wonderful tapestry we call America. Our ancestors did not come to America to create another religion that tells everyone how to live. Life is always in a state of change and our young people need to be reminded to deal more kindly and flexibly with others, brainwashing themselves and us that there is only one way to make a good and free America needs to stop.

I guess what I want to say is this. Extremists (whether conservative or liberal) will not create a healthy country. In my humble opinion, that is.

Mother & Food- Part 3
November 9, 2009 by gkchill

My mother was a very good basic cook, using only the basic Betty Crocker Loose-leaf Cookbook. Julia Child – she wasn’t! At Christmas she made the best sugar cookies, which she cut into figures like Santa, a reindeer, and a Christmas tree. She decorated them with tinted sugar frosting in red and greens. I have tried many a Christmas sugar cookie since I was 5, but never has one measured up. She also cooked gingerbread squares and made a special pineapple sauce. It makes my mouth water to think about it. Her persimmon cookies were known amongst all our friends. She made cobblers, out of whatever fruit was available. Peach and apples were abundant. Sometimes she’d make blackberry or raspberry cobblers. If she was in a hurry she just rolled enough dough to cut in strips to lay over the top in criss-cross style.

We had fried chicken on Sundays for noon meal after church. I usually helped with the mashed potatoes. One day my friend Mary came over for lunch and she urged me to add more pepper and butter…from then on I realized not all people seasoned food the same way and I sure liked the additional margarine and pepper. When I ate at my girlfriend Pam’s house, her mother put cheese on top of vegetables and made scalloped potatoes. What a revelation that was. My mother never cooked with cheese. I watched amazed as my sister-in-law Joanne added Tang to Pancake mix, and raisins to oatmeal. I was learning that every woman has a different style, not necessarily better but different. I still preferred the way my mother made spaghetti and meatballs. She did not use Ragu just a plain tomato paste base. We had fried fish often, dipped in cornmeal and fried, but my father never bought shrimp or anything he called exotic. I never ate tuna fish as a child, but lots of deviled eggs, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She did not make elaborate meat dishes and I don’t remember her baking bread, but her homemade biscuits were the best. She served simple meals, like corned beef hash and fresh sliced tomatoes. She made salad of lettuce, pineapple chunks and sliced banana with a dash of mayonnaise, sometimes substituting the lettuce with shredded carrots. I was speechless the first time I tasted Cobb salad in a restaurant on a date.

Visits to Texas cause certain foods to stand out in my memories. Fresh Cornbread with Black-eyed peas, okra, kale, fresh cooked green beans, candied carrots, rhubarb pie. Texas cooks are amazing. My husband’s mother was also a Texas girl. But she cooked with spices like Cumin, a flavor I had never tasted before my first dinner-date at Joe’s house. She made a slumgullion (hamburger, pasta noodles, chopped onion) seasoned with cumin cayenne pepper, that still makes my mouth water. I did learn to make it myself, but it was never as strong and tasty as hers. Hers was the first Turkey stuffing that I tasted that was filled with cranberries and walnuts and apples as well as the normal mixings.

When I turned ten, I was allowed to walk five blocks to a little soda fountain place that served sodas, milkshakes and hamburgers. It cost 35 cents for a small bottle of cocoa cola and a burger with lettuce, tomato and a slice of onion.

I hated school food, so I mostly packed a lunch and took milk money. I don’t remember the first time I ate potato chips, but I do remember corn nuts in high school. McDonalds became an option in the late 50’s and early 60’s. The first McDonalds I ever went in was on Mission Street in Santa Cruz up the hill from Walnut Street where the high school was.

My brothers and I agreed that my mother made the best basic potato salad ever, I passed the recipe on down to my daughters, but I notice they have both tweaked it a bit for their own tastes. They add Dijon mustard; leave out the onions and a few other secret ingredients that I have yet to figure out. My best cooking feat was to make the best chicken-fried steaks, complete with gravy, creamed corn and banana pudding for dessert. Joe and I loved liver and onions, but for some reason we never could get the kids to touch it.

So there you have a mini-history of foods that I grew up loving because of my mother. There is nothing like having family or friends together and showing off our favorite dishes. Some of my favorite dishes now, my daughters have taught me, and so on it goes. But I do advocate learning healthier ways of eating. Old habits sure are hard to break! Bon Appetite!

Mother – Part 2
November 5, 2009 by gkchill

My earliest memories of my mother involve her doing the laundry; it was an all day event. In my first home in New Mexico, we had a round washer with the wringer apparatus on the top, that would swing sideways toward a large aluminum tub used for rinsing. The clothes were hung on the clothesline with wooden clothespins, which she stored in her pocketed apron. Laundry dried quickly in the New Mexico breezes and heat. Then she gathered it all in and started the ironing and folding. She ironed everything or laid it in a pile to be mended. She mended socks by inserting an old light bulb inside them. She never threw out anything because it was holey. Old underwear served as dusting cloths. Old items were cut into to sections and used in mending holes or cut into squares for quilting. Unused clothing or material was made into pillows, aprons or cut into quilting squares. She and her sisters recycled clothing for all the cousins and I was the recipient of hand-me-downs until I was old enough to object.

My mother was the queen of using leftovers. She washed tinfoil and wax paper and reused it. She was a simple cook, who never used anything more than salt pepper, sage, vanilla, and allspice. I never knew about cumin and rosemary and thyme until I was married, but I don’t remember not liking anything she cooked. She made wonderful fried chicken, Stews, pies, fruit cobblers, cakes and cookies. I always preferred her spaghetti and tacos to any one else’s. She raised most of her own garden of vegetables and canned what she couldn’t use right away. My bath and hair washing was always a Saturday morning event. Sunday was a day of rest. Mom always made Fried Chicken, gravy, corn and a pie on Sunday as far back as I can remember. She loved being a housewife, and always had the radio on western music. I was raised on Eddie Arnold, Ernest Tub, Tex Ritter, all the grand ole’ Opry gang.

She always used the library and hardly ever bought a book, although my older brother used to mail her books that he would find. I got my love of books from my mother. She started by reading a long book called Nobody’s Boy to me. Then when I was in about the third grade, I remember reading it to her. If I found a good book, I ‘d hid in a cubby and read it all in one day. This is one thing I tried hard to pass on – the love of books.

Even in her senior years, Mom kept up her “thrifty” traits. She got meals on wheels from the Golden Bears in Santa Cruz. She died at the age of 91 in 1991. Later when sorting through her stuff I found a box of food trays stacked 2 feet high under her sink, straws, napkins, anything she saw as useful, she saved. I threw a lot of it out, smiling as I did. She was a dear woman who read through the Holy Bible at least 5-8 times…I know because the passages bore footnotes of hers that were dated, I kept her last bible and am continually finding her life recorded amongst the pages. For example, one entry reads “ Geri and the kids came for a visit today”, or “today I had lunch with Mary and we played scrabble”. All of the blank pages in any book that she loved were filled with her thoughts and in one page of her bible I found anniversaries and birthdays recorded, even the gravesite location instructions for some family burial plots. In her sixties she took up knitting and oil painting using the old underwear for cleaning brushes. She lived a long full life. She was a Texas country girl at heart, and I am sure she has heaven well fed, organized and the streets of gold well scrubbed, and shined.

I inherited a smidgeon of her ways…and sometimes I can hear her voice in my head telling me not to throw that away. It makes me laugh when that happens. I was lucky to have a wonderful loving mother. She had flaws, like we all do, but I mostly remember good stuff about my mother.

Forgiveness…
November 1, 2009 by gkchill

One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do is to forgive someone. It is one of those life’s lessons that takes time to work through. Not dealing with anger becomes a type of bondage that may cripple our lives.

Regardless of how it starts, if our mind keeps going back to “the incident” and hashing it over and over, justifying our position and building up our case against someone, then we are becoming a slave to the hatred and resentment. It will control us and color our actions until we deal with it.

God’s word teaches us that we must forgive others, if we want Him to forgive us. So it is a very basic biblical principal. This is true of many other religions as well, forgiveness ultimately means our freedom. Learning to deal with anger and resentment makes us better people. Your act of forgiveness can cause a domino effect with others.

Some acts of forgiveness will be easy. Others will be more difficult, but will be life changing for the better. Take steps today to forgive others. Remember forgiving is not condoning an evil, it is an act of grace, an act that will allow you to be happier and blessed.

I encourage you to take the steps today toward forgiving a real or perceived wrong done to you. Free yourself!

Grandmother’s House – Part 2
October 30, 2009 by gkchill

In a previous article entitled “To Grandmother’s House we go” I mentioned my parents and I traveling to be with my grandmother during an extended illness in the early 1950s. She lived in a two-story Queen Anne style white, with a huge kitchen and walk-in pantry, a beautiful mahogany staircase leading to four large bedrooms upstairs. Inside toilets were added in the 1940’s. Upstairs was a bathroom with a claw foot tub. In 1953 it was plumbed, but not with hot water, thus hot water had to be toted up the stairs. I loved the room. I remember it smelled like Dial soap. I remember spending one rainy afternoon holed up in an upstairs bedroom with an ice cold Coca-cola (in a small bottle) and a pile of Porky Pig comic books. I was up there so long, my mother said grandma wanted to know where I was. The coke was a real treat for me, but since my dad had never allowed me to buy comics, they were a borrowed guilty pleasure from the neighbor boy Ricky.

I never really knew my grandfather as he died when I was only three years old. My mother told me he was the postmaster in Tuscola, Texas for many years, but he also tended to the stock with the help of his older sons. His territory was the barn and he tended to any carpentry that was needed. My grandmother tended to the house and garden and made the children’s’ clothes. Each child had one good outfit for church, and a few play clothes, not a huge wardrobe like children enjoy today. Grandmother raised chickens, grew her own fruit in the orchard, vegetables in her garden, and made her own butter. She would churn the milk and put the rich yellow butter into fancy molds then into the milk cooler (pans of water surrounded by canvas). She drew her water from a well or used the rainwater captured in cisterns. The older girls helped in the kitchen.

The family watchdog was a guinea hen that squawked when anything unexpected came around. Feeding the chickens, cleaning the chicken pen, and gathering the eggs were chores for the younger children. Years later during my stay at my grandmother’s in 1953, when she was 80, I found decoy eggs in a long-since-deserted chicken coop. I learned decoys helped urge a hen to nest.

In the early 1900′s in spring, after school, an assembly line of sisters and brothers would plant the garden. One would dig a hole, the next would drop the seeds, a third would cover, and a fourth would water. A stake at the end of each row would have the seed packet hung on it, so they’d know that was planted where. My mother remembers the garden was a wonderful place to wander and nibble, but you had to watch where you stepped as chicken poop was added to the garden for fertilizer. That was organic gardening of the early 1900s. Grandmother orchestrated the planting of the turnips at just the right time so that they would be tender and sweet. After a big frost, my mother said you could pull up a big purple turnip and eat it raw. Fresh onions were great with a piece of cornbread, but eaten in abundance would give you a terrible headache. Green, plump, sweet peas were eaten right out of the pod. Ripe watermelons were smashed open and eaten right in the garden. A ripe one responded to a thump with a hollow sound and of course the other sure test were bee marks on the outside rind.

My mom said she felt like the luckiest child in the world if she found a soft golden ripe peach; she would eat it shamelessly sitting right under the tree with the juice running down her face while making slurping sounds. Rarely did a ripe peach ever fall to the ground uneaten. No one bothered the sour plum which grandmother canned for jam. When the fruit trees were all in bloom, my mother told me of the lonesome trill of the meadowlark, the fragrant cornucopia of smells and incessant buzzing of happy bees. These shared memories encourage me to live and enjoy the moments of my life. Mother said that later the drought years killed many of those fruit trees; but the memories of the good years lingered for a lifetime to be passed on to my eagerly awaiting ears.

Some memories can be so sweet and juicy! Go out there and make some memories. Then, like I so often like to do… Savor the moments!

Sad?
October 29, 2009 by gkchill

I usually check my face book once a week or so. I like to see what the granddaughters are chatting about and what my daughters are doing. It is also a good way to check up on friends that don’t email. Recently one of my granddaughters asked a valid question that I want to write about today. She was asking someone “how do you get over being sad?” This is a good topic to discuss no matter what age you are.

There are so many things that can make us feel sad, and this is a normal emotion in life. When we get our feelings hurt, we may feel sad. When we hear that something bad has happened we feel sad; we sympathize, but we usually snap back to normal. Teenagers have a little longer bout with sadness sometimes because so many things about their lives are changing. Puberty is kicking in with all the physical and emotional baggage that comes with it. Older sisters or brothers may go away to college. Or perhaps we find there are shifting friendships. As we grow we realize some friends are only temporary so; we discover whom we can trust and whom we can’t. This can we a sad time in high school and college. A morning argument with a parent can shadow the whole day.

Sometimes sadness is less obvious in its source, so we have a chance to play detective in our own lives. Lingering sadness that is not faced and gets brushed aside can become the cause of a veritable cornucopia of problems later. So it really is a good thing to go through the growing pains of discovery, and the sooner the better. Humans use a variety of nonproductive ways of drowning out sadness and depression. Eating disorders, drinking or drug problems, and a dozen other things are abused just so we don’t let ourselves feel.

Feeling your feelings, sounds so simple. It is always okay to feel happy but we are not encouraged to feel bad, sad or mad. In a strict environment, this problem is worse because normal feeling are shamed or stuffed away, hidden. I hope all my children and grandchildren learn to be genuine with their feelings. If you are sad, allow yourself to think about what is making you sad, then talk about it and get those feeling out. Keeping mad feeling inside can make you sad. Find a healthy outlet for your anger and then let it go. Sports, writing, talking to a friend, are all good ways to get over being mad or sad.

More serious sadness should always be discussed with a trusted parent, counselor or pastor. There are so many ways to stay healthy emotionally, so if you can’t figure it out on your own, always share. This is how some of the warmest and deepest of friendships and relationships have started. When we share a hurt or a disappointment with someone else, it forms a bond, especially when they reciprocate.

So if the granddaughter who wanted to know the answer to this question is reading this. Here is my advice. If playing music and jumping up and down on the bed cure it, then it is just a mood. Distract yourself with pleasant things that usually make you happy like reading or drawing. Help someone else, look beyond your own problems and see how you could help your mother or father or brother or sister. Write a letter to someone you miss or kiss someone on the cheek and tell him or her you think they are wonderful. This will cure the little case of a sad mood. Oh, and never forget no matter your age, you can always have a “Pity Party” alone or with someone else. If you are alone and sad or just feeling bad from a cold, add cocoa and a soft yummy cookie to dunk in it. Now consider this a kiss and a hug to you!

Have a nice day and smile!

Fall is here…
October 24, 2009 by gkchill

The four seasons are each rich with their own individual markers. By the time we fall into autumn I am hungry for all the richness of the natural colors in the landscape. There is one particular tree (must be the red maple) that is still green, but also partially yellow, orange and red. It is lovely enough to inspire poetry.

In the higher elevations the Aspens are turning yellow, and when the a breeze blows, a thousand leaves quiver at once give me a thrilling high. I’d love to collect hundreds of red leaves and press them under glass. In fact I did once cover an old silverware chest with a favorite picture, added red maple leaves and covered it all in clear contact paper, trying to keep a memory..

Have you been to a wilderness area recently to stand and savor the precious gift we have? I understand how John Muir felt, I remember John Denver telling us on his last music special how much he loved the out of doors. Remember his song “Sunshine on my shoulder”? So many people share this love of having the privilege of preserving areas where man can’t intrude.

I love to stand on a hill, feeling the cool fresh wind on my face, listening to only the sounds of nature, talking to God. To me that is as sacred as worship gets. I can stand on that hill alone and let the tears of love and appreciation for life flow down my cheeks without caring who sees me weep.

My challenge to you is this: Seize the day! Take a drive away from your normal surroundings. Take the first 20 minutes and during those moments let go of all your problems, and then with a fresh mind look and see what God has made. Stand alone on a hill and bare your soul. Autumn is a good time to let go of the past and let the leaves of discontent drop to the ground. Let your spirit soar with the Eagle. Let your inner self be renewed and then go home and live life refreshed.

Carpe Diem!

Plans
October 23, 2009 by gkchill

In contemplating plans, it occurs to me that all plans start with a dream or a vision or even just a reaction. An architect must first have the dream of something to build. When we built our first home, the builder asked us to give him an idea of what we wanted. We shared our thoughts and he came up with a plan.

I watched an amazing program about a group of glassblowers that are now retired but they got together for the making of a documentary on the art of glassblowing. At this reunion they made such marvelous items, even though they hadn’t worked together in 25 years. Some items broke along the way, but many exquisite items made it to the oven for baking. They started the process the same way each time with a sketch of what they wanted to do… a plan, so that the one taking the molten glass out of the heat knew how to sling the pole, how to proceed. The plan required the help of another man if it was a large item, and a man with special gloves who took it when it was snapped off the pole.

An artist sees something in their mind’s eye and they start with a color over the canvas, a plan for the background, the basic beginnings. A potter tosses the clay, turns it on the wheel and shapes it with his hands at some point coming up with a plan for a shape, a texture, a design. A poet begins with a feeling, an emotion, and then searches their mind for words that show the reader how to see what they are feeling. At Thanksgiving, the cook needs even the simplest of plans for things to come together by time to dine. Mother’s need a plan so that everything gets done before bedtime and in the morning a plan is needed to get everyone off to school or work.

People with addictions, follow a 12-step plan to recover. Food Addicts, like myself, need a plan, a pantry that reflects what they should eat, support from their family, and a goal. Firemen have drills every week so that they have a plan in case of a real fire. In the Sierras when lakes partially freeze every year, the new guys are taught how to do an ice rescue, which is fascinating to watch. Everything professionals do needs a plan of some kind.

Even the simplest of life’s journeys, like grieving over a loss, overcoming a physical challenge, illness or injury, need a plan. It may just be remembering to breathe in and out. to wake up in the morning , eating a healthy meal just to make it through the day, getting some exercise, talking to other people, sharing, finding a way to express yourself, eventually finding ways to smile again, walk or talk and live again.

Plan to enjoy the rest of your life. Nurture your hidden talents. Find an artistic outlet; open yourself to positive things. If you are not retired like I am, if you feel everyday is a struggle, don’t be afraid to ask for help, sometimes two heads are better than one to explore the possibilities out there. My last advise is personal; look heaven-ward, tap into a greater source; ask God to show you the way to recover or to bless the plan have. Your spirit needs nourishment just like your body does.

Now go out there and greet the day! Vaya con dios.

Here come the Holidays…
October 22, 2009 by gkchill

Sometimes I feel nostalgic at this time of the year. As I rummage through my memories, I find some stand out . My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. Wherever we go on this day, a few of us will play Scrabble or Sequence or Up Words and have so much fun laughing and nibbling on treats, drinking a glass of wine. Then we gather around the table for the sharing of good food. The men usually watch football and the women talk, but in 2008 the women took control of the TV remote; we watched “Sleepless in Seattle” and the men had to talk. It was a wonderful, unforgettable day. My son-in-law barbecued the turkeys and we all pitched in with the other dishes. We gave thanks and dinner was served buffet-style out of their new kitchen. Then I had a second Thanksgiving with my niece and her family that included a surprise visit by my nephew. It was a fine day. I felt my brother’s presence there, smiling from heaven. I was happy that I had made the trip.

One year I met a little 90 year old lady named Fran. We met at a potluck, and while getting to know one another, we realized we were both “Days of Our Lives” fans. Fran reminded me of my mother (who had recently passed away). I started visiting her often and we became good friends. One year she was trying to convince her son and his family to take a trip away for the holidays, but they were reluctant to leave her alone, so I adopted her for the day and took her to Thanksgiving Dinner with my family. She was thrilled and enjoyed herself; we knew she was happy and content to be with us when she snoozed in the rocking chair after dinner.

I hope oneday I can get all the kids and grandchildren together at the same time, but I have learned to live one day at a time and living in the moment can satisfy the heart. Sometimes it is the one-on-one time with another person that can be as meaningful if not better than so many people together at once. So I take what the good Lord sends me along with learning not to be a selfish demanding mother.

The Holidays need to be about living in the moment. If someone has to sit alone one year with a TV dinner, then that is reality. Just look at the situation with a different perspective. One Plan B into effect and ordered out some Kentucky Fried Chicken for the holiday meal. We built a roaring toasty fire in the fireplace and we ate by candlelight.

I see now that everyday is a gift to cherish, and when we change the way we look at things, the things we look at change. So my advice is – try to find the good in every day; take that ole sour lemon and make some lemonade! The nice thing about Thanksgiving is it can be any day people get together.

To Grandmother’s House we go…
October 21, 2009 by gkchill

The year was 1952 and I was nine and weary from a long hot trip in the car. My only diversion for hours had been a box of treasured Katy Keene paper dolls. I was dozing in the front seat with my head on my mother’s lap, when my father pulled our maroon-colored GMC pickup, to a stop in the driveway of my mother’s childhood home, to a Grandmother, whom I had not seen since I was three or four. My last memory of this place was the scene of my grandfather laid out in a casket in the living room smelling thickly of roses and lilies.

As we stood in the doorway being greeted by my Aunt, I looked straight ahead, relieved to see that two chairs on either side of the fireplace had replaced the casket. Immediately to the right the walnut staircase caught my eye and I leaned forward my eyes following the beautiful banister all the way to the floor above. I remember wondering what mysteries lay up those stairs.

My grandmother was in the parlor to the left of the fireplace, in what used to be a formal dining room complete with a bay window and window seat to the left and straight ahead was a huge oak desk with cubbyholes and a paneled cover that was pushed open. An old wooden clock ticked the seconds by loudly. On the wall to the left was a wood box with a black phone that worked by jiggling the phone receiver until an operator came on the line to direct your call. I looked around the room for my grandmother, from the sofa in the center of the room, to a hutch and sideboard on the right wall and finally inside the room tucked in the far right sat my Grandmother Casey on a little rocking chair beside a lamp, with her feet on a flounce-covered cushioned stool. She was dressed in a dark dress decorated with white polka dots; she had a dark blue shawl draped around her arms, and her tatting and crochet hook lay in her lap. She seemed a queen to me. She had beautiful white hair fluffy around her face and her toothy smile warmed me. I ran to her and put my arms around her rounded shoulders. She motioned me with a crooked finger to sit on her footstool and she said. “My, my, you certainly have grown”. She took my hand in hers and looked at me longingly and I knew I was someone she loved.

While she greeted my mom and my dad I walked into the long kitchen through the door to her left. To the left there was a roomy pantry with pies cooling on a breadboard and with a freezer opposite it. On the long table in the middle of the kitchen was a bowl of fresh eggs and beside it a pitcher of iced tea. My aunt had made sandwiches that lay on a plate covered with a white tea towel. The stove was to the right, the refrigerator to the left and in the middle at the end of the long room was a big window, a sink and a long cabinet where my mother had washed or dried dishes many times. To the right of that was a washroom and a bathroom. Upstairs was undiscovered country I was to have all summer to explore.

My Aunt had been caring for grandmother for a long time, and needed a break so we had been summoned to help. My handyman father was given a “to do” list of repairs and my mother and I were to be grandmother’s caretakers for the rest of the summer and I might start the 4th grade while we were there. It was to be the beginning of some of my fondest memories.

Hope
October 20, 2009 by gkchill

I read this the other day. “If you move from what is to what may be, you pass over a bridge which takes you from Hell to Paradise. And the strangest thing: a paradise is made of precisely the same material of which Hell is made. It is only the perception of the order of the materials that differs…” written by Odysseas Elytis in Open Book.

Hope may be the first step in moving from what is to what may be. We use the words “I hope” a lot on a daily basis and like the word love it is overused and thus loses its crisp meaning.

Funny, the little things that cause hope to flare up suddenly. As a recently retired person I went through a time in which I had been feeling that I was really no good to anybody anymore. I have plenty of people around me; it wasn’t loneliness talking. I just wondered what I had left to contribute to this life – a pity party for one. That reminds me when my kids were little, they would feel down about something, so to perk them up I would say let’s have a pity party…and we would fix up some treats, sometimes listen to music, dance around, and soon the clouds were gone from all our minds.

Sometimes the smallest of friendly, caring gestures causes hope to soar. Like in the classic movie, “A Wonderful Life” we have no awareness how our being alive changes the lives of so many people around us. Plus if we are living in that daily awareness that we have within us the power to change lives, wouldn’t we all be a little kinder and caring toward those around us. Then when the day comes that we feel sad and low, we will reap what we sow and God will send someone around to us with an encouraging smile, word or action.

We should try to tell the people we appreciate about how we feel. It may be just what they need to hear…something so little can mean so much. Believe me I know from experience.

Thanks to all those who have been an encouragement to me – you know who you are!

Mother
October 19, 2009 by gkchill

Today is October 19,2009. My mother was born on this day in 1900. If she had lived on, she’d be 109 so naturally I am thinking about her today. She was old enough to be a grandmother when I was born, but she always said I kept her young. On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the best, she was a 10. She was a full-time mom. When I grew up, everyone’s mom was a full-time mom. I had never heard of a working mother until I met my childhood friend Jewel in 1954.

My mother left me a legacy of Christian Faith and belief in a God that listens and guides us with His Spirit. She said many times I was an answer to her prayers. She had read the Bible through at least eight times by the time she was 91, when she died. I reached for the phone to call her almost every day for the two years after she passed, as she was the first person I always wanted to share stuff with. No matter where I was or what I was doing, I always knew my mother was praying for me. I still feel she watches over me… and during a few desperate hours, I have been sure of it.

Mothers are wonderful phenomena and potentially one of the best influences in our lives. My heart goes out to children who have no mother. For there are few things more powerful than as the quality of a mother’s love whether it is full-time or part-time, and even if one has been deprived of a mother one can still be a mother that blesses the life of her child/children or just a regular person who loves others with her whole heart.

Thanks Mom… for all you did for me!

Hello world!
October 18, 2009 by gkchill

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!

My best and dearest friend just tricked me into having a blog. I hope I can live up to her expectations in me, not to be a total fool. So since today is October 18th, I will begin my blog life by wishing Kim and Kenny (my daughter and son-in-law a “Happy Anniversary”.

ABOUT

I live in the High Sierra’s where the byword is “Never trust anyone under 4000 ft.” My neice reminds me there are some good people even at 2500 ft. LOL!

From my computer, I look out on a little bit of heaven. Some days I see a chipmunk, a crow and or deer from my window.

Once it was the backside of a HUGE bear walking through our property. I love nature and even when it is the bear, I try to remember I am living in his backyard not visa-versa.

Check out my ebay store: visit by way of gerisbookcloset.com

FAVORITE BOOKS/AUTHORS

Visit my website: gerisbookcloset.com where you will find my eBay store.

Well it is a new decade…I have found a lot of interesting books to read…so here are the ones I can remember for

2010

4-25-10 I have just started another Beverly Lewis book about the Amish….I will let you know about that later.
My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult was made into a movie and it is a 3 hanky book as well, but I dreaded reading it because I knew the ending, what I didn’t realize was how interesting Jodi is as an author. Once I started it, I couldn’t lay it down.
The Shipping News by E Annie Proulx is such an intriquing character study…it won a pulitzer prize and now I know why it was very original in style and it had hooked me early and each chapter had the added bonus of teaching the reader about how to make knots..something I learned originally in girl scouts.
As Hot as it Was, You Ought to Thank Me was a good read from the viewpoint of a teenage girl coming of age. I love those kinds of books.
The Big Sky by A. B Guthrie was a change of venue for me, a western flavor story about a young man becoming a real cowboy.
The Small Room by May Sarton was a good book about a young teacher finding her way as a new teacher, discovering that honesty comes with a price. It was a good story about the effect of cheating on the lives of everyone concerned.
A Painted House by John Grisham was a surprise to me. It is my first Grisham novel and he wrote this one from the point of view of a young boy of seven living on a cotton farm. It reminds me of how life must have been for my mother. It was a really good study of the different characters. A mother who really wants to leave the farm, a story of three generations living together, it was a nice surprise.
Martha Grimes is an excellent writer. I read Belle Ruin and Cold Flat Junction – she wrote with the voice of a 12 year old coming of age and solving mysteries that had gone unsolved for years. She was fun, the reading was effortless and I hated for the stories to end.
Jodi Picoult wrote Plain Truth – about an Amish mystery with a full education of how the Plain people live. Good reading.
Jane Kirkpatrick wrote No Eye Can See, a thrilling saga of people moving west in the stage coach days. We get to follow the life of a blind heroine. The story was one I will read again…it had a little of everything I like in a book. Love Suspense and History.
Anita Shreve wrote about a woman meeting her childhood sweetheart, and then what happens when one chooses one of two choices. Moving writer.
Michael Hoeye wrote The Sands of Time. It helped me to see that an author doesn’t have to write about people to get us all involved in a story…about mice. It was a fun read. It dealt with the mystery of cats.

2009

I have recently become a Beverly Lewis Fan. She wrote: The Postcard, Sanctuary, The Betrayal, The Sacrifice – all very interesting about the Amish and Plain people. I devoured her books all the summer of ’09.
Rodman Philbrick is a new author I just discovered . He writes futuristic stuff. The one I read was “The Last Book in the Universe” It was so good I had to read it in one evening! What an incredible imagination the author has.
I also like Susan Howatch, I just finished ”Mystical Paths” – it mixes the spiritual and the psychic – right up my alley. It was so deep, it took me three days. It dealt with a young man having a nervous and spiritual breakdown and the man who helped him work through it. Fascinating Reading!
As of today, 10-18-09, I finished “ The Book Club” by Mary Alice Monroe. She wove together the lives of women involved in a book club. I hated for it to end. I felt I knew those women.
I finished a Barbara Delinsky book today 10-21 The Title is “Three Wishes”. It was very entertaining. You can’t go wrong with this author. This one was about a near-death experience and how it affected her life afterwards.
I finished a Barbara Delinsky book today 10-21 The Title is “Three Wishes”. It was very entertaining. You can’t go wrong with this author. This one was about a near-death experience and how it affected her life afterwards.
October 29th -I found another Susan Howatch book – Absolute Truths. This is “heavy reading” . It deals with failures and redemption, dealing with loss of a loved one, and forgiveness of oneself and others.
November 2nd I started “Exit the Rainmaker” – a very controversial subject. It is about a man who decides one day to just walk away from his life, how it affects everyone, and then it goes back and reconstructs how it happened. This is a 2nd book by author Jonathan Coleman. He also wrote “Mother’s Request” which I haven’t read yet. I like his writing style…he leaves no stone unturned.
Nov 9th – starting “A New Kind of Christian” – a tale of two friends on a spiritual journey. By Brian McClaren. This book is “deep” so I read a little then lay it aside.
Meanwhile I read a really different kind of book – An Infinity of Little Hours” – engrossing account of the Carthusian Monks during the early 1960?s. It traces the steps of 5 young men just entering the world’s most austere monastic order. It was essentially unchanged from the year 1084 until 1965. It is illustrated, so you feel you know the men and their trials. I really “grew” reading this one.

2 Responses
on December 21, 2009 at 4:02 am | Reply Pj
I enjoyed reading your synopsis of each book. Wow! You spend a lot of time sitting and reading! Are you snowed in from all this snow falling on your website 24-7? (This comment was made because I had put a script on Geri's website with falling snow -- she hadn't seen it until I mentioned it!)

on March 18, 2010 at 10:17 pm | Reply gkchill
LOL thanks for reading…I am very far behind in posting book reviews, but not behind in reading. I will try and catch up.

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I read Joy Fielding’s “ The First Time”, about a woman whose husband has left her but returns when they find out she has Lou Gerhig’s disease. Quite a story of healing and acceptance of one’s limitations and what it means to really love somone till death do you part.
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Since Thanksgiving week I have read 6 novels: two by Susan Wiggs, “Fireside” and “ Home Before Dark”. Both were fun and interesting to read, but Home before Dark was special, because it was about a woman who was slowly losing her sight.
I read “Lover’s Knot” by Emile Richards, a very good book about a woman recovering from being shot, by going on a search for her family roots and helping her husband find his, and rebuilding their own crumbling relationship.
I read Joy Fielding’s “ The First Time”, about a woman whose husband has left her but returns when they find out she has Lou Gerhig’s disease. Quite a story of healing and acceptance of one’s limitations and what it means to really love somone till death do you part.
Then I tackled an off-beat novel “In the time of Greenbloom” by Gabriel Fielding written back in 1957 about the life of a boy, coming of age. It was filled with surperb characterizations, sad in places but unusual and haunting.
I tried to read “A Risk Worth Taking” by Robin Pilcher, but this book just refused to hook me into it, maybe the timing isn’t right. Sometime books are like that, you just aren’t ready for them, or they aren’t what you need at the time. Sorry Robin, I like some of your other books.
However “The Empty House” by Rosamunde Pilcher was a delightful story of a woman choosing her own destiny – finally!
I read a couple more Susan Wiggs novels, “Winter Lodge” was better than “Dockside”.
I picked an older one “The Shadow of the Wind” by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. It took place in Barcalona in the 40′s and 50′s, and involved a young boy choosing a book from the cemetary of forgotten books, leading him on a dangerous search for the author and a soming of age he wouldn’t soon forget.
This week I tackled two very different but totally absorbing novels. First I found a new author to me – Isla Dewar (but now I will look for her others) This one “giving up on ordinary” hits almost all mothers and homemakers right where it hurts… amazing insights and humerous observations that make all us ordinary women want more.
Last night 12-22 I finished “the speed of light” by Elizabeth Rosner. It reeled me over. It is about 3 people, one having first hand knowlege about ethnic cleansing and the horror of living with what she knows firsthand, as the only survior from a village. She takes a job for 2 people living one generation removed from the horror their father endured in Budapest. They find that by sharing their stories, they allow others to share the terrible burden they are carrying and in small ways they begin to heal that brings joy to the reader. I cried and then was joyous at the progress these three people made.