Block 87

Car Radio

By now

you know I like music . . .

I can not be in a car

and not have the radio on . . .

and usually

it is turned on loud enough

for the whole neighborhood to

"enjoy."

I

DO NOT

like cassettes,

DVDs

or Sirius/XM channels with all music.

I need to hear commercials

and "disk jockeys",

if that is what they are still called,

talking.

If a song comes on that I dislike,

out goes the

"pointy" finger

hunting the

"scan" button on the radio.

Once I find a station

that I can sing with,

I'm happy.

Now,

for any of you '

who live in Northern Ohio,

somewhere near the 80/90

would you

PLEASE

tell the radio station's to play more oldies?

That is the only part of the drive,

from present home to former home,

that I dislike . . . .

NO SINGABLE MUSIC!

Oh,

I also MUST wake up

to a clock radio.

I get TOTALLY PISSED

when I hear an alarm ringing.

Ruins my whole day.

So the clock radio'

is always turned to an Oldies Station.

Not that we use the alarm much anymore . . .

But NO WAY

am I going to wake up to

 a RINGING ALARM! ! ! ! ! ! !

Now,

this video

has nothing to do

with why I like radios.

But,

all the time I was making this block

this was on my mind.

Dear Lord,

 How many times can I thank you for your gift of music in my life. When I hear oldies, the memories flood back. Whether good or bad, they are still the memories of my lifetime and the music is the soundtrack of my life.

Amen

(1724)

Block 84

School Friends

Blue for Columbia's Blue and White.
Purple for Brownsburg's Purple and White.

These are 

the friends I made

who I taught with,

not the ones 

I made when I

was a student.

Some I had known from 

my days in school . . .

they were teachers then

or perhaps 

students,

like myself,

then.

Some were older,

some were younger

some had even been

students in my own

classroom.

But,

in the classrooms

we were all on

the same stage . . .

equals

no matter 

what we 

had once been.

They mean

the world to me . . . 

I compare us

to soldiers

who have served

on the same battle field.

We have a mutual

understanding 

that only those

who have done the job

understand.

Everyone

seems to think

they know how to teach . . .

or they think of teacher

with this phrase

"Those who do, do,

Those who can't

teach."

Just once,

I would like to see

someone from 

that last group

send a week in a classroom.

For some,

a day would be 

way too much.

Real teachers

are rare birds

and I am glad

that I worked in a flock

of so many

great ones!

Dear Lord,

Thank you for blessing me with the friends I made in the battle field known as Public Schools. No matter what we did, someone always thought we were doing wrong or they could do it better. The real teachers among us took it in stride and kept on doing what we did . . . knowing we were doing what was right for our classrooms . . . adapting what we did for the individuals we encountered.

I hope, in the deepest parts of my heart, that you will always keep the people who care in the classroom. If they should ever cease to exist, the classroom will be a sad place.

Amen

Block 86

Santa Claus

As I write this

I am wondering what you,

the reader,

are wondering.

I'll bet you are wondering

why a 59 2/3 year old

would think

that Santa Claus

is a blessing?

When I was young,

and when you were young too,

I'll bet,

there seemed to be

a Santa on every street corner

and in every department store.

My parents dealt

with all of these

different Santas

with such class.

They told us

that these were Santa's helpers,

not elves . . . helpers,

and he sent them out 

before Christmas

because he was too busy.

Pretty cool, huh?

Tell a helper

what you would like

and he delivers

the message to Santa.

Then,

somewhere in my 

youngest of years

Mom and Dad

told us that Santa 

was the spirit of giving.

Not that he was fake . . .

never that . . . 

just that he was the

"spirit" of giving.

So,

I guess,

they never said there was

nor did they say 

there wasn't a Santa.

Still,

I know,

why is he a blessing.?

He is the spirit of giving

and giving is good. 

When I am able to give

to a cause I believe in

I get a warm,

cozy feeling

in the depths

of my soul.

It is a humbling

experience 

to share with those

who need,

or do,
good things

but do not have 

the resources to achieve

their wants and needs.

Wyoming County SPCA
and 

Natalie's No Kill Animal Shelter . . .

at the present,

I am trying to help 

both places.

 The 1st is here 
in Western New York
where Natalie's
is 30 (+/-) minutes
from my hometown.


Both do great things
for animals
who did not ask 
to be brought
into this world.
They give them food, 
shelter,
love
and the hope
of finding
a "forever" family.


All of my
fur babies
have been foundlings
of sorts.
They could have 
appeared at my home,
been in a shelter,
been fostered,
born into a family
who wanted no more pets
or just needed a home
where they would be loved.
So I see
what wonderful things
can occure
with these unwanted animals.
They become
the best friends
I could have 
asked for.

Dear Lord,

Your son, Jesus Christ, taught us, in his unassuming ways, that giving was good. I thank you each and every day for giving him to us so he could teach us so much in his short time on Earth.

He gave to those who needed, those who could not do for themselves. He loved all, but I think he had a special place in his heart for the weak, poor and those who were not dealt a good hand in life. 

I hope, that in my small way, I emulate his generosity.

Amen

(1635)

Block 83

If I Only Had a Brain

I could while away the hours, conferrin' with the flowers
Consultin' with the rain.
And my head I'd be scratchin' while
my thoughts were busy hatchin'

If I only had a brain.

I'd unravel every riddle for any individ'le,
In trouble or in pain.
With the thoughts you'll be thinkin'
you could be another Lincoln
If you only had a brain.

Oh, I could tell you why The ocean's near the shore.
I could think of things I never thunk before.
And then I'd sit, and think some more.

I would not be just a nothin' my head all full of stuffin'
My heart all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry, life would be a ding-a-derry,
If I only had a brain.

~lyrics from The Wizard of Oz

Thanks to the Scarecrow

from The Wizard of Oz

for the song.

Yes,

I do have a brain.

Not a bad one,

but not a 

brainy brain either.

Most of my 

friends in school

were pretty smart.

I was no slouch,

but they were the

A students.

I was the A, B 

and C student.

In retrospect,

it was the better brain 

to have as a teacher.

Students think

their teachers are all

National Honor Society types.

Straight A's,

never in trouble,

goody 2-shoes.

Not me . . 

I knew what it was like

to be lost

when a new idea

was introduced.

I swear,

I think,

at times,

my eyes actually 

rolled around my sockets

like a "googly-headed" doll

when I was trying

to comprehend

some things.

For example,

in physics,

why do I need to know

why a spring "springs back?"

It does,

and I'm glad it does,

or it wouldn't be a spring.

But,

o-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h

when I caught

onto something

my eyes lit up

like a light bulb.

Not sure,

but steam might have

come out of my ears too!

 As a teacher,

it was great to be a

"normal" student.

I think I understood

how they learned,

or why they didn't

understand something.

I think my empathy

was genuine . . . 

and I think 

 my students

knew this.

So,

for my 83rd Blessing

I am using my

normal brain

as my blessing . . . 

and who better 

to signify a brain

than the Scarecrow

from the Wizard of Oz

who badly wanted 

just a brain . . .

any kind of brain

would have made

him happy. 

Dear Lord,

Thank you for making me a normal girl from a middle class family. In my lifetime, I have known what it was like to struggle and also how it felt like not to struggle. Being average is nice . . . it lets you understand both having and not having . . . understanding and not understanding . . .
knowing that I could improve but also knowing any improvement would take more work than some and less work than others.

It's nice being average . . . it has made me fit in.

Amen

(1629)

Block 17

 She's my baby.

She is the one

who taught me

what unconditional love was.

My Block #17 is Joy . . .

the most wonderful,

black and white hound mix

I have ever known.

To this day,

55 years later,

I can still remember

EVERYTHING

about her

coming into my life.

Dad was a railroader.

he worked in the yards.

One afternoon,

when he came home from work,

he asked me

if I would go out to his car

and bring in his work jacket.

Mom and I had been in the kitchen,

so out the kitchen door

to the back porch I go.

Out the back porch I go,

down the steps,

to the sidewalk

that connected the steps

to the street.

I can still see our old Chevy sitting there.

I opened the car door,

reached in,

picked up the jacket

and underneath the jacket

was this little

black and white puppy.

Not a speck of brown on her,

except for her deep brown eyes.

I picked her up,

cradled her in my arms,

and raced back into the house

to show Mom what I found

under the jacket.

(My mind doesn't tell me if I remembered the jacket . . .

and being only 4 years old,

I am sure it stayed in the car.)

Mom told me,

later in life,

 that she decide to name her Joy

because she brought so much Joy into our home.

As I say today,

she was a love dumpling.

So well behaved . . .

the only training she would have gotten

is from us.

And she picked up everything we taught her.

I can still feel the softness of her ears.

Never have I felt ears

that felt like silk on a dog.

Her smell was so calming . . .

not a hound smell,

just a Joy smell.

When I was making her square,

I felt this calming feeling come over me.

She had that way with me.

For the first years of her life

she followed Lee everywhere.

Then something happened that scared him . .

so he made her stay home.

She wasn't happy

but she found out that I was fun to be around

and for the rest of her life,

she was my girl totally.

Dad had to put her down

while I was away at college.

I was 19 . . .

she had been an integral part of my life

for 14 years.

But her hearing was going . .

now,

I believe

that she might have also been suffering

from a sort of doggie dementia.

She didn't get lost on her

"rounds"

of the neighborhood.

But she would get off track.

(Dad with Joy . .sitting on "her rug" in the dining room of 23 West Ottawa.)

One of the most traumatic days of my life

was coming home from college,

going into the house,

calling for her

and she didn't come.

I knew,

down deep in my heart,

what had happened.

(Mom and Joy in the back yard of 23 West Ottawa Street.)

 

When Mom got home from work,

we both had a good cry.

To this day,

I can still see her,

front paws on the front window,

looking in to let us know

she was ready to come in.

I can still feel,

how she felt,

when I would wrap my arms around her

and nuzzled her neck.

And those ears . . .

like soft,

black silk.

I am a firm believer

that when I die,

I will walk through St. Peter's gates

and there,

coming in a pack from

the Rainbow Bridge on my right,

will be all of the "fur babies"

I have loved in my life.

Leading them will be Joy . . .

so happy to see me after all these years . .

and as I see them

I start crying

I have missed them all so much.

But Joy,

she is the one I have to hug first . . .

she taught me so much

 and deserves that honor.

Dear Lord,


I have actual tears streaming down my cheeks. I knew I missed Joy, but didn't realize how much until I made her blessing square. When I made it, I was upset . . there was no room let by me for her to be. That hurt . . . she should have been right there by my side. So, I put her by Grandma. Grandma was alive the first 6 years of Joys life, so Joy won't feel alone on my sampler.


Thank you SO MUCH for bringing her into my life. Thank you for her teaching me how to give love to someone else. Thank you for all the times I was allowed to feed and water her. Thank you for letting me touch and pet her so much that my fingers still remember her to this day.


You are all knowing. You had, from the day she came to live with us, a plan for my life. You knew I would be a lover of animals, and that was the day to start me on my path.


I know, You know, how much I live for my "babies." Without them, I would not be who I am today.

Amen.

(416)

Blocks 5 and 6

 Today was Family Day again.

Whenever I think of my brother Lee

I automatically think of a baseball catcher.

I think that,

from the time I was four

until I was 14 or 15,

I spent every summer

at a baseball diamond

 watching him.

Well, truth be told,

I probably spent

a lot more of that time

playing at the playgrounds,

but you get my gist.

Block #5

is my representation of Lee.

Ever tried to make a ball out of squares?

How about a catchers mitt

 which is one big circle . . .

except for the thumb indent

and the squared off bottom

that opens for the wrist.

I can remember his mitt,

resting on,

or in,

the small dresser that was in his closet.

It felt so soft to the touch . . .

and the lacings were always worn.

I included the  lacing

so you can tell where the thumb has some motion.

Block #6

is for Grandma . . .

right next to Mom,

her daughter.

I have a lot of memories of Grandma.

The one that always comes to mind . . .

her sitting in her rocker

beside the dining room window

crocheting dish cloths

for Aunt Helen to sell

at General Tire.

Her pattern was nothing more than #10 cotton

crocheted with a steel hook.

It had a chain base

and the rows were:

 double crochet,

chain 1,

skip 1,

double crochet again.

This pattern was repeated

until the height she wanted

was achieved.

Dc, *ch 1, sk 1, dc,*

repeat from * to * across,

ch 2, turn.

Very simple instructions

for something that lasted forever.

Not only do I have

one or two of her cloths

but she also gave me my love of crochet.

You can tell by the complete photo

that I have two more blocks started.

To be honest, only 1 block is started,

that being the black one.

It is for my Grandpa Gaumer.

The brown X is just that

 a brown X.

(Oh,

I capitalized Grandpa's name for a reason . . .

he had the thickest white hair

for a man his age.

So I had to make his name thick and white.)

I have yet to decide what I want for myself

but I know I will be in this space.

I'm laughing because

 it sounds like

my plot at the cemetery in Logan.

I know I will  be buried right next to Mom

but I don't know when.

Dear Lord,

Thank you for allowing me to live with Grandma. I am sure it was rough on her . . . she would have been in her late 60's when I was born . . . but I can tell from the earliest pictures with her that she did enjoy me. It's just that the clearer memories are from when she got older and I am sure she would have loved to have had a quieter home.

And thank you for giving me Lee. I always knew how much I loved him, even though our family doesn't display affection. But when I went back home for the 1st time after we moved to Western New York, I could see how much he missed me in his smile. That truly warmed my soul. We seldom saw each other when I lived at home, except the kids birthdays and Christmas . . . but we each knew the other one was there, safe and sound. Now . . . the miles between us make the times we do see each other more precious.

Amen.

(224)