Below is a letter I found in Grandma Foster’s Scrapbook. It was written in 1940 by Sheldon H. Kinney… the Fosters’ next door neighbor in Pasadena, CA… quite an accomplished young 25 year old. Here is a newspaper article published in the Chicago Tribune about him:
Interesting how they published his parents’ home address, huh? I don’t think we’d see that in today’s press, do you?
While at sea, during World War Two, Sheldon wrote this heartfelt letter to his parents:
How Grandma Foster got ahold of that letter so she could include it in her scrapbook is a mystery. But, it is there… preserved for me to share! I hope you find it as inspiring as I do. Makes me wish I had written something similar to my parents when I was 25! But, did I have the insight at that age to “see my parents as man and woman” the way Sheldon did? I doubt it.
How very precious to read Sheldon’s praise of his parents, and to feel the warmth they must have felt when reading those accolades!
As I continue to sift through the scrapbook’s treasures, I will gladly share others with you. I hope you are enjoying these as much as I am!
I love that old musical from the 1950’s, Annie Get Your Gun. It is an American musical Technicolor comedy film loosely based on the life of sharpshooter Annie Oakley. The Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer release, with music and lyrics by Irving Berlin and a screenplay by Sidney Sheldon based on the 1946 stage musical of the same name.
Does hugging come naturally to you? If so, from whom do you think you inherited that quality? Bob and I had that conversation after breakfast this morning. His mom and dad were not huggy folks. Mine were… especially my affectionate daddy.
Me and Daddy when I was about 14 or 15.
Bob didn’t learn to be huggy from me. He came that way… and I feel so blessed. Marrying someone who was stand-offish Would have been put me to a terrible test!
Doin’ what comes naturally Isn’t the same for you and me. I reach out and hug strangers – At least ’til this pandemic distanced me.
When our daughter, DeAna’s best friend, Laina, Lost both her adoptive parents at a young age, We were blessed to say, “Come be in our family.” Having a “Daughter #2” was a blessing quite sage!
Our Laina keeps in daily touch. She wrote A message to me yesterday. I asked her if I could share it here. This is what she had to say:
Embrace MomBee🥰
I keep waiting for your blog theme to be “Embrace Hugging” or similar. Technically embrace does mean to hold someone closely in your arms so it’s almost funny to use the 2 words together.
Well here’s my mini blog for the day.
We just don’t hug enough anymore. For one reason, we can’t because of social distancing but also we don’t because we won’t take the time to do something that’s so extremely important.
My genetic nature resisted hugs growing up. I inherited that from Marilyn my Irish born biological grandmother and apparently her daughter my biological mother was the same way. I was adopted by a very different personality.
I would feel myself stiffen up and become uncomfortable when someone hugged me. My (adoptive) mom was very loving and caring. She was a hugger and I reflect back on those hugs and feel bad for my involuntary reaction. I would squiggle (squirm+wiggle) away as fast as I possibly could leaving her unfulfilled. Being a teenager and young adult I was too self-absorbed to notice the sadness on her face or to recognize her need for physical contact. If only I could go back in time and have a “do over”! I would give her a proper hug. It would be a long squeeze and I wouldn’t let go until SHE squirmed to get free. Knowing her, she wouldn’t ever squirm! we’d still be hugging! Hugs instantly boost OxyContin levels. It’s scientifically proven. Hugs help to heal feelings of loneliness and isolation and anger. An extended hug increases serotonin levels and increases good mood. It strengthens the immune system. So why don’t we do it more? We need to do it more! I guess I can’t tell you to hug a stranger because they might smack you or scream but definitely hug those you love whenever they are near… I can’t wait to give you both long hugs in person. I promise I won’t squirm away.
Laina and “MomBee”
That picture of me with Laina is one of my favorites. I often use it as the “sign off” photo on my blog – edited to just be me. I had forgotten that it was taken on the occasion of my 80th birthday when Laina came to be with us and help us prepare for and carry out a party that included about 50 of our best MT friends. Laina lives in Maryland – and her trip here was such a gift. Helping us was for her, “Doin’ what comes naturally.”
Hugs may not come naturally to all of us. But it is something we can learn… and enjoy… and realize how important that intimacy is.
Our daughter, De, with hubby, Andre’
Yesterday our grandson, DeAna’s youngest son, Chris, went to Vissoie to have dinner at his parents’ restaurant and to give them a long overdue hug. It had been over a month since he had made the trip up the mountain to see them. I wrote to him afterward and said, “Thank you for going to be with your parents and for giving your mom great big, heart-felt hugs. We all need them.“
DeAna and Chris
This morning he wrote back and said, “Oh! It was my pleasure! It’s been too long since I saw them, I needed to squeeze their booooooones. Can’t wait to squeeze yours, too!”
(Chrissy got that expression, “Squeeze yer bones!” from his GrampyBob… It’s one of his favorites.)
Whose bones do you need to squeeze today? Go do it! Go and make hugging one of those things that is “Doin’ what comes naturally!”
Thank you, Laina for sharing your story with us. Thank you for enhancing our family.
Thank you, blogging friends, for visiting JanBeek today. Hugs to you! See ya tomorrow.
As a teacher of elementary children for nearly a quarter of a century and the mom of two very curious children, I can tell you that one of the most annoying questions is “Why?”
I remember the day I finally asked my father, “Why not?” when he told me NO. I was about 20 years old! Can you imagine? Being raised in a family where when Dad said, “No,” that was final? No questions asked. Just obey?
My kids were not like that. It was a different era. They asked, “Why?” before they knew how to say, “Chocolate!”
I think a measure of a child’s intelligence may be how many times s/he asks “Why?” The explorations, poking, questioning, prodding, relentless inquisitive nature of some children and adults can be downright annoying, though.
The path may not be a straight one… And it may be hard to determine where it leads, but curiosity will keep you (and them) moving forward. There is a huge NEED to know what’s beyond the bend!
As parents and teachers we sometimes want to shield our children from the unknown. There may be danger out there. I had a tendency to be protective. I know that’s where my dad was coming from when he said, “No!”
But squelching curiosity because of fear of the unknown is a dangerous path. It can lead to many missed opportunities and lost happiness.
Instead of being annoyed by the “Why?” and the “Why not?” we need to teach ourselves and our children the importance of always questioning.
Accepting “No” for an answer without questioning can lead to stagnation.
Instead of squelching curiosity, let’s turn our questioning into research with a purpose.
Curious people don’t just look Curious people see Curious people don’t just see Curious people question Curious people don’t just question Curious people probe
With a thirst for answers, Curious people are relentless. They keep asking until They find answers that satisfy.
Curiosity changes our perceptions. It changes our way of seeing things. It helps us gain the wisdom That less curious people Spend a life-time chasing.
Francoise Sagan is credited with that quote. Who was he? Are you curious? I was.
“Françoise Sagan (born Françoise Delphine Quoirez; 21 June 1935 – 24 September 2004) was a French playwright, novelist, and screenwriter. Sagan was known for works with strong romantic themes involving wealthy and disillusioned bourgeois characters. Her best-known novel was her first – Bonjour Tristesse (1954) – which was written when she was a teenager.
Want to know more? Put her name in your Google search engine. We are so blessed to have an encyclopedia at our fingertips. Folks with insatiable appetites for answers can ask the who, what, why, when, and how questions and Siri or Alexa or Wikipedia are right there. What a gift these are to the curious.
Imagine what Einstein might have done with today’s technology!!!
EMBRACE CURIOSITY! Let your “Why?” be followed by active listening, thoughtful reading, and the explorations, poking, questioning, prodding, trying again, inquisitive nature that those children and adults exhibited who were downright annoying. Go ahead! Be annoying!
I’d love to see how you complete one or both of those sentences.
I have given them a lot of thought lately.
Write your sentence before you look below for what I wrote.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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I’m alive for a reason. I’m alive because my number hasn’t come up yet! My purpose in life is – to love – to accept love gratefully, – to spread that love far and wide – and to help others seek the Source of that joyous, peace-filled love.
I don’t love because I expect love in return… (but that usually happens). I love because God first loved me, my parents loved me, and I have been blessed with family and friends who love me. My cup overflows… and I NEED to share it.
How did you finish the sentence?
I hope you had (have) a loving family too. My daddy was the world’s greatest hugger!
Have a great weekend. Live for your purpose! See ya tomorrow. Love, JanBeek
We were having one of my favorite meals, spaghetti with meat sauce, when I first told my family that I had broken up with my fiance’. My dad nearly choked on his mouthful. My mom shoved her plate of spaghetti half-way across the table!
To this day, I can’t eat spaghetti with meat sauce without remembering that day.
My fiance’ and I had been engaged for about a year. He was in the army, stationed in Germany. I was a senior in college, missing the social life, trying to remain true to my engagement. I wanted to attend the school’s dances and other social functions. It was hard!
Rather than being untrue to my boyfriend who was so far away (we had not seen each other in six months), I broke off with him. Obviously, my parents were devastated. Especially when they learned the guy I wanted to date was a divorce’.
“Why buy a used car when you can have a new one?” my dad finally spoke. Then he got up and walked out of the room. (Yes, Dad was a man of few words, but a list of prejudices a mile long!)
Mom followed him, without speaking a word. That was so unlike her.
Proverbs 6: 20-23
20 My son, obey your father’s commands,and don’t neglect your mother’s instruction. 21 Keep their words always in your heart. Tie them around your neck. 22 When you walk, their counsel will lead you. When you sleep, they will protect you. When you wake up, they will advise you. 23 For their command is a lamp and their instruction a light; their corrective discipline is the way to life.
The man I broke up with was from a family very much like my own. He grew up in the same area I did. We shared common roots. My parent and his got along wonderfully. The man I wanted to date was nine years older than I. I won’t get into why he was so attractive to me, but suffice to say, my parents’ dismay touched me deeply.
They let me have my “fling.” They did not bad-mouth my new friend. But when my ex-boyfriend came home on leave, they invited him over. When I returned home from college that weekend, he was there. I realized how much I loved him. That love has carried us through 58 years of marriage. Not always perfect, not always blissful, but always respectful, and always knitted together in prayer, faith in God, and common purpose. The love has grown as years passed – and I am grateful every day for my parents’ wisdom.
Put a plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of me. I can taste the kindness of my parents in every meatball. I can hear my mom’s silence and feel her prayers in every slurp of pasta. I feel my dad’s concern about age differences and divorce. I keep their love in my heart with every Italian meal! God bless ’em!!
Today at d’Verse we are trying a new form of poetry. Synesthesia is a neurological phenomenon in which stimulation of one sense leads to automatic, involuntary experiences of a second one. There are over 80 types of synesthesia described by science. Nearly every combination of sensory experiences or cognitive concepts is possible.
Seeing music as colors is one form of synesthesia. Perceiving letters as personalities is another one, or seeing numbers in color. Even hearing colors or touching smells.
How about tasting memories? Do you have any of those?
This post is a combination prompt: 1) My Madison Valley Writers’ Group Prompt was the title of the blog, and 2) the d’Verse prompt informed the style and content. It’s not poetry… but it may qualify as Synesthesia. What do you think?
We are in a bit of a mess right now But we will as a world of people Get through this problem of COVID-19 If we focus on the possibilities.
We have to see the problem, though. We can’t ignore it and decide This is just a bunch of media hype. Opportunities for containing it are coming.
The people who are working on a cure Have to view the problem clearly. They won’t create a vaccine or treatment If they are convinced it’s only a hoax.
This major, world-wide problem is An opportunity for people to see A new and better world where people Come together to create positive change.
Factories shut down and air quality improves. Tourists are convinced to stay home, and The waters in the canals of Venice are Beginning to exhibit less pollution.
Schools are closed and parents are at home, Schooling their children the best they can, And hopefully spending quality time together. Shut off the TV; limit screen time; TALK!
This problem IS providing us with opportunities. Which ones are you taking advantage of? Which closet got cleaned? What book did you read? What distant friend did you call to reconnect?
Problems provide possibilities for creativity. Use yours to make this corner of your world A little brighter for your family and neighbors. Remain positive. Spread hope. God bless you!
I remember Dad’s three-tiered tulip bed and the day I picked a bouquet of them and got into trouble…
I remember being scolded, and as I stood there with a fist-full of the precious blooms saying to Dad, “I no pick the flaws… maybe Sally pick the flaws!”
I remember walking down Fig Lane with my sister, Sally, headed to P Street School wearing my Mary Jane’s…
I remember how proud I was of those new shoes…
I remember trips every September to San Francisco to get new school clothes: new shoes, a new dress, underwear, a sweater, a coat… the essentials…
I remember eating crab legs at Fisherman’s Wharf while I gazed at the boats coming in and going out of the harbor…
I remember my first plane trip, flying to Seattle to be with my mom’s family there when her mom died…
I remember Dewey Wright, my first true love, and the Valentine card he gave me in kindergarten, and how he chased me around the playground until I caught him …
I remember moving from that little white house at the end of Fig Lane to a house out in the country right next door to my Dad’s mom…
I remember the day my cousin, Billy, came to live with us – and how upset he was – and how upset I was when he tore our doll house apart and scattered our toys…
I remember dashing past a gobbling turkey who chased me to my grandma’s back door after school…
I remember my father’s tears when his mother died…
I remember moving out to that God-forsaken place twenty miles from nowhere to begin life anew, with Dad going into business with Uncle Igino and Uncle Melio …
I remember the smell of the Pacific Tallow Works that was about 150 yards from our house, and how impossible it was to close up the house tight enough …
I remember Tiofila and Engracia and Dalia, my sweet little Spanish-speaking playmates, whose mom made fantastic tortillas, and the day they were transported back to Mexico by some cruel authorities…
I remember crying for days when I heard Dalia had died on that trip back to Mexico …
I remember Manuel Ynzunza, his basketball skill, and our first kiss out behind the cafeteria … oh, the thrill of it…
I remember “Dimples,” my Cocker Spaniel who had four puppies – and the fascination of observing the births …
I remember riding a horse, unable to control it, and being pushed into a barbed wire fence, putting a gash in my right leg …
I remember how impossible it was for Mom to leave the office unattended to take me to the doctor (she was Dad’s secretary-bookkeeper), so she taped my gash closed and how it healed leaving a big scar …
I remember the day my Aunt Jean, Billy’s mom, came to take him back … how I was filled with mixed emotions, sorrow and relief …
I remember my mom’s older sister, Aunt Evelyn, coming from Washington to visit and bringing clothes my cousins had outgrown, and Mom spending nights altering them to fit Sally & me …
I remember walking at least a mile (seemed like five) to catch the school bus and riding for at least an hour (seemed like five) while we picked up other kids to go to Crows Landing Elementary School…
I remember Mrs Yetter, my third grade teacher, who was almost bald…
I remember my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Ethel Horwedle, and how she wrote her cursive E, and how she let me sing to the tunes of the square dance records, and let me teach the class new square dance moves…
I remember Mrs. Marlow, the principal’s wife who was my 7th and 8th grade teacher… how she let me go during spelling class to help the kindergarten teacher (because, “You don’t need the spelling lesson,” she’d say after giving me a pre-test on which I always got 100%) …
I remember wearing an “I Like Ike” button and learning in 8th grade about each of his cabinet members as they were one-by-one appointed…
I remember Howard Thorkelson, our class genius, who got polio when we were in 8th grade and was gone a long time… returning in a neck and back brace for our graduation…
I remember learning to play the clarinet and doing so well that the band leader invited me to play with the high school band…
Sally & me with our clarinets
I remember being too small to fit into a high school band uniform, and having suspenders that pulled the pants up under my armpits…
I remember playing an accordion duet with Evelyn at our 8th grade graduation, but don’t remember Evelyn’s last name …
This was my first accordion. It’s over 100 years old!
I don’t remember a lot of things, but I remember feeling cared for, and feeling like I could become whatever I set my mind to, and not realizing we were poor…
We actually weren’t you know. We had each other. We had love. We had everything.
It is the joy of having breakfast with your granddaughter and her family! Look at these darling great-grandchildren:
Sienna is 5 months old and she in in 8-12 month sizes!! Aren’t those the most kissable cheeks you’ve ever seen?
This is the happy big brother, my great-grandson, Xander. His favorite trick today was pulling his sister’s socks off!
Drew & Hope
The busy parents, Drew & Hope, have their hands full! I was happy to be able to spend time with them.
Hope shared some of her photos from two days ago, our Halloween here in the USA. She dressed the kids up, but the snow and lousy road conditions kept them from Trick-or-Treating. It’ll be something Xander can look forward to next year.
Xander the pirate is at his Grandma Pam’s.
Don’t know which he liked best, Pirate or Frog costume… Which one would you choose?
Sienna makes a cute little cuddly lamb, don’t you think?
I had fun talking with Xander about his little sister.
The Lakota School (St. Joseph’s) sent me small gloves – just right for Xander – and a dream catcher with Hope’s name on it. It made a perfect gift.
Couldn’t play “Patty Cake” with Xander while holding Sienna, but he clapped anyway.
Yes, “Happiness Personified” is time with my Great-Grandkids. We have a date to meet here again in a couple of weeks. Good plan, don’t you agree?
Don’t grow too fast, little ones!
Here’s Sienna with me last July at my 80th b’day party.
See ya later, my friends. What’s your idea of “Happiness Personified?”
Let me take a break this Mother’s Day weekend from my A-Z series and talk instead about moms. Okay?
How would you describe your mom?
My mom was an Okie.
Hmmm… How dare I?!
How dare I use such a derogatory term! “Okie” was a term used by those who thought they were better than those Dust Bowl transplants who moved to the west coast from Oklahoma to find a way to make a living when years of drought forced them from their homes there.
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck is a classic book that told the story of Tom Joad, the father of a migrant family. Tom left the Oklahoma dust bowl for promised land in California, only to face new and daunting challenges. It was made into an award-winning movie starring Henry Fonda.
Wrong Assumption
My father’s sisters erroneously decided Mom was a west-coast migrant from Oklahoma. Unlike those Dust Bowl transplants from Oklahoma, my mother, Elizabeth Totten, had ancestors who migrated in the late 1800s from Ireland and Scotland to Iowa and then to the state of Washington at the turn of the century. Mom’s family owned a farm in Fall City, Washington. Her dad died when she was in her early teens. My grandmother guided her six children to work hard to keep the farm operating without my grandpa to lead the way.
After Elizabeth graduated from high school in 1933, she worked in Fall City at a creamery to help the family survive and retain the farm. She moved to California after she met my dad, Sal DeAngeles, a handsome, suave, dark-haired young man, 4 years her senior.
Early Days in Mom’ & Dad’s Marriage
Elizabeth and Sal eloped to Reno, NV in 1937 and kept their marriage a secret for awhile. They were aware that his family might have trouble accepting her.
Many times Mom told me the story of how Dad’s Italian sisters (he had 5 of ’em) were resentful of her intrusion. She said they called her an Okie. (To her face? I hope not!) She was not Italian. And worse yet, she was not Catholic! And to add insult to injury, Dad’s mother (my Grandma DeAngeles) loved Mom as if she were one of her own daughters. There may have been some jealousy at work there.
Mom thought Dad’s sisters had a friend, a local Italian, Catholic girl picked out for their brother. Mom said she believed they were shocked and rather put-off by his decision to marry this outsider.
Whether her perception of their non-acceptance was true or not, it colored our family’s relationship with my dear aunts forever! It may have been one of the reasons I recall our family going on Sunday afternoons to visit Dad’s sisters at their homes, but rarely inviting them to come to ours. What a shame!
Who was Mom – – – really?
Elizabeth (later nick-named Betty) was the fifth in a family of six children born to Laura & Ralph Valentine (RV) Totten. She was a slightly built, blond, blue-eyed girl with three older sisters, one brother, and a younger sister. She adored her father, whose untimely death (he fell off a barn roof and died of a brain injury), left her devastated.
She was a good student, particularly talented as an “elocutionist” (public speaker), and would have loved to attend college. Financially it just was not an option. She was good at math as well, and eventually became Dad’s secretary/treasurer in his business. In her retirement years, she kept herself busy playing Bridge and participating in the women’s organizations of Eastern Star and Rebekahs.
What do I Remember Fondly About My Mom?
Mom always told me I could do and be whomever I decided I wanted to be. She believed in me. She gave me confidence, and encouraged all my various endeavors. She made sure I got accordion lessons when I showed an interest in that instrument. She helped me get a clarinet when I wanted to join the elementary school band, and she drove me to weekly accordion and clarinet lessons fifty miles away.
Mom helped me develop my writing skills and encouraged my ventures into art and school leadership. She convinced Dad that I should be able to go to college – and made sure they managed to finance my college expenses so that I could concentrate on my studies. “Your school work is your job,” she explained when I was contemplating a job to help with college costs. Unlike most college students today, I graduated with a BA of education in four years – and was debt free. What a gift!
Mirror Images
Mom’s spit-fire personality sometimes caused us to be at odds with one another. I see her in me now and blame her for all the parts of my personality that annoy me. I look in the mirror and see her arms hanging from my shoulders (when did that happen?). I see her impatience in me when I am being less than kind. I look up and shake my finger at her when i am too outspoken.
Thank You, Mom
But at the same time, I thank my mom for all the ways she helped me become the “Child of God” I am today. She made sure my sister, Sally, and I got to church each Sunday. She was 100% honest and she taught Sally and me to be morally responsible, dependable, hard-working young ladies. I am grateful to my mom for her role modeling, her work ethic, and her unconditional love.
Family is So Precious!
The picture below is 53 years old!! That’s me on the left, pregnant with our first child. My husband, Bob, is standing next to me. Next is my sister, Sally, with her husband, Dave, holding their eldest daughter, Denise (both of whom are now deceased). I thank God every day for life – and for the life of my children – and count my blessings that they are alive and healthy, productive adults today. I never take that for granted.
My mom and dad (Sal & Betty) are in the foreground. The best gift they gave to me was their love for one another – and their love for our family.
Happy Mother’s Day
to all those wonderful moms out there
who have impacted their children
in such important ways –
and continue to do so everyday…
some up close and personal,
and others as they lean over the
Heavenly railings and watch over us from above.
***
What do you remember most about your Mom?
And what do you want to thank her for?
Baptism in Christ
A choice you can always make
It’s never too late
Are you baptized? Or did you miss that ceremony as a child?
If it was like my baptism, you were an infant and don’t remember it. Does that make a “dedication” by your parents rather than a baptism for you into the family of God? Does it make a difference?
If you went through confirmation classes as a pre-teen and received your Holy Baptism at 12 or 13, you remember the occasion. But, was your confession of faith then done with the same understanding you would have if you confessed your faith and were baptized today?
My friend, Loleta, has always been a loving person. She has identified herself as a Christian for many years. But, she did not recall ever being baptized. She knows it was unlikely her parents had her “sprinkled” as an infant. So, in her enlightened “senior years,” God put it upon her heart to be baptized.
When my husband and I learned of her decision, we were thrilled. We asked her if we could attend the baptism ceremony.
“Why?” she asked. “Why would you want to travel so far to be here when I am baptized? Isn’t it just a private thing between God and me?”
“Because we love you!” we told her. “It is your PUBLIC acknowledgement of your faith. We are thrilled that you have decided to do this – and we want to be there to support you.”
We were not alone in our presence. Loleta had people from three states come to witness her baptism… and then we all celebrated together at a rental house in a lovely spot in southern California where we are sharing the time for awhile. The Holy Spirit is alive and well in this place!
Here are a few of the celebrants.
Do you remember your baptism?
Mine was a sprinkling as an infant.
I wonder if I would have the courage
to be “dunked” if the Holy Spirit nudged me
to do so today.
