More Emotions and Light the World

               Three hours after my last post I had gone from hurt to angry – which is not a cool emotion either but I would rather be angry.  I don’t have to deal with mucus or go through tissues when I am angry. In my last post had said that with each “fuel” added I have relived past emotions believing I hadn’t learned anything. However I have gone through the “stages” a lot quicker this time than in years past.  Before I had gone to bed I had convinced myself that I no longer care.  I’m not saying that’s a good thing.  But I am happy to feel this way as opposed to sobbing uncontrollably.  I also realized my poor reaction may have been due to a lack of sleep. I have been able to sleep much better when I am no longer emotionally invested.

            I believe that God experiences emotions such as joy, anger and sadness.  God is immortal.  He may cry but I don’t believe that he has to deal with mucus or tissue. I’m a mortal who has shed thousands – possibly even millions of tears.  I don’t want to cry anymore. Lots of healing to be dealt with still.  As I was writing Jenna shared two really great quotes on how I feel vs. them:

What’s motivating to you may be crippling to others – Victor Lineo.

The same boiling water that softens the potato makes the egg hard

Jenna and I had watched the movie “Big” and it felt so good to laugh. I remembered the baby corn but had forgotten about the celery he returns after licking off all the filling.  It has been a while since I had watched “Big”; I don’t know if I had laughed that hard whenever I had watched it before.

             Before “Light the World” started, Jenna wrote down what it is she wanted to do for each activity.   

For December 17 she thought it would be fun to go to McDonalds and pay for the order of the car behind us.   Jenna’s food order wasn’t ready and so they asked for Roland to pull forward – which he did.  So the payment was not anonymous.  

On Friday I was supposed to have a meeting with the RS presidency, but the meeting did not happen.  We sorted and made up food boxes and added the presents we had wrapped two days before.  After I returned home we connected with my middle son and read two stories to his two daughters

We also sang Rudolf with them and then Jenna and I sang "Happy Birthday" as I thought today was Rochelle's birthday.  I was a month early.  Oh, well.

          Yesterday Jenna decided to try her hand at once again paying for the car behind her.  She and Roland had gone to Roseburg and had stopped off at Taco Bell on their return.

 

         Instead of  going to a nursing home, Jenna decided to tie a note to a helium balloon that indicated the reader is loved and has value and encouraged the receiver her to find her on instagram – provided the receiver has instagram. Jenna released the balloon into the air last night. 

         I don’t know how far it may have gotten but suspect it’s somewhere on the ground in Oregon as it rained last night.  I hope that the message may still be readable.  

Dash #607 Never Stop Writing

          When I was younger, I enjoyed reading poems and would often write nonsense poems just for the sake of rhyming.  It wasn’t until I was in high school and taking a creative writing class that I learned about many different types of poetry and have often attempted writing different styles.  Some styles I prefer more than others.

          I wrote poems for many years.  I wrote poems and started many different story lines, but I don’t think I ever finished a single one.  My mind has mostly raced ahead of my pencil.  The word processor seemed to add an ease to writing stories and biography.  I now have the ability to add things and delete things and not worry about marring the paper in any way. 

          I rarely write poems anymore.  Sometimes I will work on stories with Jenna.  But mostly what I write are truths and journaling.  Once in a while I take out a pen and paper to accumulate thoughts or take notes.  But mostly I do it electronically.  It is faster and tons easier to read.  I write letters and emails electronically. But I do print letters and send them through the mail.  I mostly write my eldest granddaughter – well I address her personally, but the letter is really for the entire family. 

          Once in a while I will send a letter to someone I have never sent to before, for example this letter was sent along with heirlooms – one before she was even born.  On Thursday I sent a letter to my grandnephew who has cancer.  He is four.

          I enjoy writing.  I don’t enjoy poetry as much as I used to – though I have my moments enjoying certain styles like those mentioned in posts here and here. I have since purchased Mirror, Mirror and Follow, Follow. see here

My favorite poets are Carl Sandburg and Langston Hughes. I especially love Langston Hughes and have read most of his collections – many of which are not poetry.  He has written books about a character named “Simple”. Very Funny!

Throughout the beginning of my blog there have been some styles of poetry added to some of my posts – most seem to be about the weather, but there are some others.  Perhaps I’ll share a few of my earlier works if I make the time to look for and compile them and post them.  It will be a while if it indeed happens. Don't count on it.

Dash #742 Continuing Education

          I remember my mom and I taking a class together on storybook literature.  Sadly, I don’t recall the name of the instructor but he was of German descent and had had exposure to cruel fairytales versus what he called “watered down” versions that seem traditional in America. I think there had been only  four classes as we met only once a week for only for four weeks – at least that is what I remember.  I don’t know if I recorded anything about it though Corey may have my mom’s version of what took place.

          I remember our instructor showed us several frames taken from a graphic story.  I don’t recall there being words, but if there were, he would translate the German captions into English.  The story was on obedience and minding your elders.  Peter had been warned by several adults including mom, dad, and at least one grandparent.  They had told him not to go outside for it was too cold and he would be able to dress warm enough, but Peter went outside anyway.  He walked further and further away from his home and ignored all the signs of birds that were too frozen over they could no longer fly, or other animals.

          I believe that Peter ends up falling through the ice.  Some of the adults go out to look for him and find him frozen. They take him back to the house to thaw him out.  In the last frame the illustration shows three canisters.  I forget what was in the ones on either side – perhaps vinegar and cooking oil.  The container in the middle was labled Peter – implying that Peter had thawed into liquid and that was the only means they had for preserving what was left of him.

          He had also showed us a book about Mr. Thumbsucker who would cut off the thumbs of children who continued sucking their thumbs.  The idea was to motivate children to stop sucking their thumb but the pictures seemed quite gruesome. It wasn't just the stories themselves but also the illustrations that made the German versions seem much more dark than the American hand-me-down  versions - which I am grateful for.

          I remember enjoying fairytales as a child. Then again, I think my mom was a lot more selective.  I appreciate her introducing me to fairytales as I know she didn’t like them when she was a child.  Nor do I think she enjoyed them much as an adult. I don’t think the fairytales she grew up with were as violent as our instructor’s had been.  Also, my mom didn’t seem to have a great imagination and wouldn’t believe that bears could talk or pigs could build houses. 

          In our final class we were introduced to an orange and were supposed to form a relationship with it.  Our instructor said it was often a tender moment for many of his students and when they were separated from their orange, or saw another rip it apart, some would actually cry.  Mom and I exchanged glances that we surely wouldn't be making that kind of attachment or would be able to relate to that analogy. I made a comment about two other students I could see it happen with. And it did.  They cried.  We didn’t roll our eyes, but we didn’t feel the same attachment toward our oranges as they apparently did.

          It was an interesting class.  I think mom and I both enjoyed it overall – though I seem to be sharing the bizarre parts about it.  It had been a good experience for my mom and I to have this class in common and to share our experiences.

Apparently Spelling Doesn't Count in that Incredibly Long Run-on Sentence

I have recently come across a pile of papers waiting to be sorted.  There were a lot of homework assignments or notes from both Jenna and me.   I copied a few of her stories to read through at a more convenient time and threw the hard copies away.  She doesn't have the best handwriting, and her spelling is atrocious. 

Turns out I copied three partial stories.  One was about Emily Rogers, a teacher who wished she had well behaved students and seemed to get her wish - but her "wish come true" turned out to be somewhat eerie.  I love Jenna's imaginative description:

it was silent like a cheetah eyeing its prey waiting for the right moment to pounce.  It was sort of creepy. 

She had also  written a story about a character named Latisha Cannon who didn't enjoy math and also made a wish not to have it anymore and how the world seemed to change when math was no longer a part of it.  Both Emily and Latisha woke up at the end of the story.

Some of her errors made me laugh, but after a while I was appalled that she hasn't been learning how to spell or use punctuation correctly.  I know that cursive was removed from the schools.  Was spelling as well?  I get that grammar can sometimes be difficult, but surely she knows  that a sentence has to come to an end eventually. 

It is certainly convenient having spell check or even Grammarly which will catch the errors that a person may have spelled correctly, but the word needed has a different spelling.  For instance she had written "loan star state" instead of "Lone Star State" in her story about Wanda - no last name, but only story title.  It was called: Wanda and the Rain Stick

She didn't wake up at the end.  Not much of a plot.

I'm happy for the opportunities I've had to further my education and understanding.

Treasured Memories on Imagination

My last post was about the treasures I discovered on 8mm tapes.  Yesterday I found a notebook with a couple of stories that I would like to share.  The first came from Jenna's head when she was three going on four.  I wish I had filmed her telling it, for it doesn't read quite the same (even with visual aids) as it is to watch her tell the story as she uses "Cootie" parts to emphasize particular parts in the story.

For my readers who may not be familiar with the Milton Bradley game, Cooties, here is a brief description and history.

The younger generation may view "Cooties" as "cute" game pieces.  The heads on the game I grew up with looked like ants.

Keep in mind that Jenna was using a cootie body to demonstrate as she told her story (again and again) 

And So the story unfolds:

 

            Once upon a time there was a 

caterpillar named Date  who wanted 

to grow up to be a butterfly.  

But his mom said that he would 

not be one right now and would 

have to wait until tomorrow.  

So he went to bed and the next 

morning he woke up and made a 

cocoon 

 so he popped off his head  (she told me later that she had said out, but I had heard off) 

 and slept in his cocoon and when he came out he was a beautiful butterfly 

who flew around .  And he flew and he flew until he was dead.  And then they sweeped him up.

            I don't remember laughing at her.  I thought her ending was kind of morbid - I mean - where did she come up with that? but I do remember her dad and brothers laughing.  She was amused that they found it amusing, and thus repeated the story.  It's funny that I had forgotten that she had once told it quite often (which is how I remembered what words to write down)

            I also had struggles with getting her to eat a balanced meal (still do) and used this story on her.

          Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl named Jill.  She had brown hair and brown eyes and a wonderful imagination.  Jill could ride unicorns to school and fly home on the wings of a giant bird.  She could grant wishes with her magic wand.  She could swim in the oceans with mermaids.  She could be a doctor, a teacher, a mother, model, dancer, magician, even and animal.  Jill could do and be whatever she wanted except for one thing.  Jill could not eat whatever or whenever she wanted to. 

          Her imagination didn't work in her mouth or her stomach.  It wouldn't have been so bad if Jill would eat fruit and vegetables as a snack and not just candy or if she would eat the same dinner as the rest of her family and use her imagination to make believe it tasted like cake or ice cream.  Jill didn't always appreciate the snacks that her mom would give her.  Often Jill wished she could really perform real magic, then she could eat whatever and whenever she wanted.  But then so could her mother who was fat and whose teeth were falling out because she had eaten whatever and whenever she wanted her entire life. 

           Jill's' mother loved her and didn't want Jill to become fat and toothless and sickly because of her poor eating choices.  She also wanted Jill to be grateful. 

          One day Jill ate a casserole that her mom had made - even though it had red sauce and meat.  Jill imagined she was Goldilocks and that mom's casserole was baby bear's porridge.  Jill ate it all up.  And it was good.  She didn't throw up.  And she didn't die.  Jill and her mom made a deal with one another.  Jill could have a candy bar once a week.  And she would always eat nutritious food such as apples, pears and even broccoli.  And Jill and her mom lived happily ever after in good health.

It didn't work then.  There's no way it's going to work on her now.  She does like fruit and will eat two or three apples in a given day.  However Vegetables are still a sore subject.

I also have (in her handwriting - er, print) "The Happy Feather" by Jenna, illustrated by Jenna . . . that is all.  No story.  No illustration.  It's nice to have an example of her writing however.

Grandma Really Didn’t Jump From an Airplane

I am currently taking a family history class through the Church because Roland wants to take the class but can't always be there and so has asked me to come with him in the event that he has to miss a class.
Yesterday we shared memories of our ancestors.  I had known from the beginning that I would need to come up with something.  And I have written down thoughts here and there - but nothing major about anyway.  I finally ended up sharing three stories that mom had shared about herself and a family member's name.  Of course once the class was over, I have been able to come up with some other memories.  Here is one:

     My mom has never had a great sense of direction – at least since I’ve known her.  Sometimes she would forget small things and exaggerate about things like, “having to drive around the world” when it had taken her longer to get to places than anticipated.

     When she first was diagnosed with dementia, her children often wondered if it was still her personality that caused her to do things (or not do things) or if the dementia had taken over.  We soon realized that it was her dementia.

     One time Corey and Mom had gone over to Patrick and Sunnys’s house and were having dinner with the family.  The topic at hand happened to be skydiving.  Ellen and Kimball had experienced jumping out of an airplane in real life – and Candy had been saving her money so that she might go sky diving sometime in the future.  I think they said Sunny had wanted to go, also.

     They said mom all the sudden joined in the conversation.  “You know I’ve been skydiving, too.” And then proceeded to go into detail about her experience.

     Now, you must understand, my mom was fearful of heights.  She didn’t even like to ride the sky ride (similar to a ski lift) at Lagoon (an amusement park in Farmington, Utah) because her legs were dangling.  There is no way in real life she would have ever jumped out of an airplane.

     But eventually the account she related came with such superior detail that even Corey had questioned it as he looked at the others and said, “Did she?” as each of the others shrugged.

     Throughout the rest of her life she continued to tell her account of how she had “jumped out of a plane”. 

     Four months after we put her into assisted living, she met another resident of the facility.  His name was Harold Martin and he had flown in small-uncovered airplane for real.  He was fascinated by mom’s story and wish that he too had had the opportunity of skydiving.

     He must have noticed that mom’s story varied a bit each time she told him.  For what started out as a private jet with an instructor ended up a commercial airline that was going down, and the crew had insisted that each of the passengers jump out in order to be spared.

     If mom had lived any longer, I think her story would have changed to being pushed rather than jumping of her own free will.

Remembering Mom

         It was in January of 2012 that my sibs and I worked together with my niece and her husband to put ourselves on a schedule so that someone would always be at home with my mom – which unfortunately did not always work out.

         We would keep in touch by phone and sending the same email to our group so that we could all kind of keep track of what was going on.  It wasn’t until November when Nate decided to create a group page on facebook.  He gave it the name “Operation Grandma Care”.  We started out with Six members and gradually we became Nine.

         The site was up for less than three months before we had moved my mom into assisted living. I don’t know when Nate removed himself from the group but it couldn’t have been more than eight months after he’d created the site.  Nevertheless the seven of us that remained continued to keep tabs on one another, supply information and make inquiries. 

         Pictures we posted and Sunny even posted a video which shows my mom singing three songs. What a treasure that is!  I am so grateful to Nate for having created the site for us.

         After my mom passed away less than five months ago, we decided we would keep the site but we changed the name.  Well, Kayla did.  Operation was dropped and an S was added to make “Grandma Cares”  It’s funny that the site contains only one grandchild. 

        

         We kept it in order to share stories and photos and memories of mom but also of dad and our family.  Corey will periodically post discoveries he has made while going through her journals. Yesterday I posted one of Jenna’s favorite stories that only Patrick and I had experienced.  (Fortunately for Corey and Kayla they both missed out)

         True story: In searching for creative ways to economize, Salt Lake Tribune had a featured area of suggestions and recipes.  My mom tried one called “Peanut Butter Casserole”  the very idea of putting tomatoes, onions and peanut butter together would make my nose turn – but now that I’ve tasted it, I can honestly say the idea makes me puke.

         Mom decided to go heavy on the peanut butter – which I have no way of knowing weather it improved or hindered the taste.  My brother Patrick thought it was the grossest thing ever.  He had had only one bite and figured out what the ingredients were and pulled away from the table as though he had been bitten. 

         I remember finding the recipe that mom had so carefully cut out of the paper.  I tore it to bits and distributed only a few pieces into each trash can we had in the house.  Mom wasn’t good at puzzles.  She would never be able to put it back together if she wanted to.  But she too, admitted it was bad.

         I didn’t realize until my neighbor commented on my post that she too had tortured her family with the yucky excuse for a meal.  She, too, can testify to its awfulness.  Now we can all laugh at the experience.

         Thanks again, Nate, for creating the site for us.  We do have another site with all of our children to inform them of events taking place currently.  But it’s fun to have a “Grandma Cares” site for memories

Elephants CAN Jump

          I don’t know how often Roland has asked the following question to various people: “What is the only mammal that cannot jump?” 

          The answer is, “an elephant.”

          Whether it is accurate or not isn’t relevant – not to this post anyway.  Corey liked the title “Elephants Can’t Jump” and thought he would use it for a future post – although he didn’t know what.  I imagined some profound analogy that had nothing to do with elephant at all, but would leave his readers thinking, “What a great post.” as his posts are usually quite thought provoking.

          This is neither great nor profound.  Needed fun to lighten up the mood from many of my most recent posts.

I had memorized Eletelephony by Laura Elizabeth Richards.  It’s a fun little nonsense poem.

Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant—
No! no! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone—
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it right.)
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee—
(I fear I'd better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)

I don’t know why I always pick the elephant when playing guessing games. But somehow I find myself using the elephant as part of my outrageous answer, and yet I always do.

Jenna:          “Guess what we did at school today?”

Me:              “I don’t know, what?”

Jenna:          “Guess.”

Me:              “you all rode elephants around the classroom and now the school has a large hole in it where the classroom used to be because the elephants did so much damage"

Jenna will laugh and tell me what really happened.

It wasn’t too long ago when she wrote the following story:

Pg1:   My name is [Jenna].  I never seen an elephant draw.   

         But I’ve read that they write.

Pg2:   Did you know that elephants could write? It’s true.   

         They can write.

Pg 3: Have you ever seen one?  I’m sure you haven’t.  

         They’re really hard to find.

Pg4:   I really want to see one but I’ll never get to see one!

Pg5:   I think Kangaroo’s swim.

(I had added the pictures once I deciphered her first grade handwriting)

And today she asked, “What should I draw?”  

I used to suggest simple things, but today’s suggestion was:  “Why don’t you draw an elephant trying to climb into a keyhole.”

The result:

How great it is to encourage and enjoy imagination.  Because it is through imagination that elephants can jump and fly, read and write, dance and swim.  And that’s such an awesome thing!