Tag Archives: memories

Jul5

Nostalgia This 4th of July

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Nostalgia This 4th of July

Wow! The 250th Birthday of the United States of America! Communities have had many events planned for months with this 3-day holiday weekend. Dean and I’s wedding anniversary is on the 2nd of July, so we usually plan a few days of celebrating with America’s birthday. This year we had our anniversary dinner out at a quaint St. Louis City neighborhood Irish eatery. On Friday, July 3 late afternoon we made the hour-drive to the small German river town Hermann, Missouri. It is the town Dean and I were married 16 years ago. That evening their 4th of July parade was taking place along the downtown blocks near the riverfront. Lots of cool vintage cars and excited kids waiting for candy to be thrown to them. Thirsty after the July humid heat, we stopped in the local brewery. I had their new seltzer, a lemon-lavender. Very refreshing. Dean had a red ale while relaxing in the air-conditioned brewery. We shared a delicious freshly made thin crust pizza. Afterwards we strolled to the riverfront park where many townies were getting situated for the fireworks display. The sunset brought its own special glow on the Missouri River before the town’s music and fireworks.

I let my hair go, not attempting to straighten the natural curls and frizz. With the humidity above 90% and heat index over 100 degrees, freedom from hairdryers and makeup was commanded, and eventually sweaty undergarments removed matching this freedom celebration. Memories going back into my childhood surfaced these past few days. A bit of nostalgia. I was 16 years old when our nation turned 200. I remember fun times in the pool that summer, making new friends through Teens Encounter Christ (TEC), playing music in the park, walking to softball practice, having evening and Saturday ballgames in old town St. Peters, bike rides in the neighborhoods down the road from our tree farm, and our 3-week summer vacation traveling to visit our family in Washington state and our friends in Minnesota. I even imagined what I might be doing at this 250th birthday year. Thought to be married, busy as a wife, mother, and grandmother. Here now I am very busy as a wife, mother, grandmother, and even a great-grandmother as well as serving the community as a culinary professional and writer of words. A partial retirement has been a good fit for me. Back then, looking forward to the 4th of July in 2026 I expected a celebration of a parade, festive music, and patriotic fireworks.

“Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord.” ~ Psalm 33:12

Here I am this holiday, my whole weekend has been full. We spent our Friday in Hermann. This Saturday in our hometown, St. Charles where we attended the Main Street parade in the morning meeting up with one son and his family, then the fireworks display at dusk. We set up our lawn chairs in our church’s parking lot situated on a hill just 4 blocks from the Missouri River. We could look downhill towards the river where the barge was set up with the explosives. Fancier fireworks in this town’s display. A bigger town with a bigger budget for such a luxury. The night sky was explosive colors and pops throughout well into the midnight hour. The sights and sounds matched my heart filled with gratitude for the freedoms I continue to have. I am thankful to God for the nation I live in; the freedom to worship my Jesus, the employment opportunities my Dean and I are occupied with, a retirement income, health benefits, nutritious food to eat, a cozy home, peace with our diverse loved ones and neighbors, and hope for our future. On the 4th of July ABC televised Brandi Carlile singing America The Beautiful in NYC. Such a gorgeous rendition, a prayer as the singer described. At church this Sunday, we sang this same anthem. Make these words our own. Here are the lyrics:

America the Beautiful by Katherine Lee Bates
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassioned stress,
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!
O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country love
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And every gain divine!
O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years,
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
Oh beautiful for halcyon skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesties
Above the enameled plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
Till souls wax fair as earth and air
And music-hearted sea!
O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassioned stress,
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
Till paths be wrought through wilds of thought
By pilgrims foot and knee!
Oh beautiful for glory-tale
Of liberating strife,
When once and twice for man’s avail
Men lavished precious life!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
Till selfish gain no longer strain
The banner of the free!
O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years,
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
Till nobler men keep once again
Thy whiter jubilee!

Feb16

The Key to the Heart

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The Key to the Heart

“Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future.” ~ Corrie Ten Boom

This mild winter day my husband and I went for an adventure to the countryside. We drove to Franklin County, Missouri where my paternal grandfather was raised and where early childhood memories have taken my mind these past few days. I have been remembering early experiences and words. Some are so vivid from my mother, father, siblings, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. I have gone back to photographs in an effort to see the fine details of their faces, their expressions, and mannerisms as well. But also, the memories and photographs capture a time capsule of more innocent times. I think for most people, many childhood memories represent a less intense and stressful time in life. For others, some childhood memories are of trauma, things a child should never experience. I am blessed to have had the influence of a village of good people during my formative years. I was probably a little bit sheltered as a child. But then again, I was working in a field every Saturday starting at age eight. Some people would say that was cruel. No, it was hard work and the way of life living on a farm and being a part of a farm family. I was also ready to retire early, at least from full-time work. My body and mind needed to slow down. Presently, I work hard on a part-time basis at my culinary and writing endeavors no matter the income, or lack of. The road to my future is influenced by my memories, but also by what I choose to fill my mind with. Like an empty jar. Are lovely words and thoughts being poured into it? Am I sharing a smile with all? My great-grandson sure knows how to smile!

“Smile, it is the key that fits the lock of everybody’s heart.” ~ Anthony J. D’Angelo

Oct22

The Countryside and Sycamores

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The Countryside and Sycamores

On Saturday I left home mid-morning to travel about an hour north to Pike County. I had the inkling to enjoy autumn’s superb weather when I heard the weekend forecast. I could have perused the boutiques on historic Main Street or shopped until I dropped. But I wanted to be outdoors. Dean’s mother passed away on October 6 with her burial in St. Joseph, MO last weekend. At last week’s funeral, I reminded myself that it was time for a visit to my parents’ gravesite just outside of Bowling Green, MO. Both my parents and grandfather died during the month of October as well; 11 years, 9 years, and 3 years ago.

The countryside was beautiful, yet I felt a sadness for this occasion. The colors of the leaves and harvesting fields distracted me from my somber mood, but my purpose for this autumn drive was not missed. I took the scenic route following along the Mississippi River. I forgot about all those little towns with speed limits at 30mph. It was enough for me to slow down and refocus for the next leg until the next village. The river that author, Mark Twain wrote about is so wide in many places in Lincoln and Pike Counties. Between the trees I could see it sparkle like diamonds in the sunlight. Although, the many stand-alone sycamore trees caught my attention the most. Even the hillside cemetery had a sycamore.

I said a prayer, asked for forgiveness for some unkind words I recalled I said to my parents many years ago. Some memories were from childhood and others as an adult. Likewise, as memories flood my mind of unkind words my father and mother said to me, I forgive each of them. Those memories help explain my own behaviors as a person. No reason to repeat history with negative words. Simply, be kind to others.

On way back home, I stopped in Clarksville, MO to use the restroom and stretch my legs. I had hoped to grab a sandwich. Not many eateries to choose from, but a clean restroom was a must. A riverside bar & grill had patrons there. A dozen Harleys were parked outside along the curb. I am not a biker, but hoped they welcomed all. The restroom was clean, and the patrons enjoying their food and drink. I love a good grilled sandwich, so I stayed. While eating a delicious chicken club sandwich at the Clarksville, MO bar & grill, words flooded my thoughts, so I wrote them down. Here is the poem:

Sycamores

Scattered hills breathe sadness.

Sadness as they overlook the valleys.

Valleys of withering grasses and emptiness.

Emptiness except for the stand-alone, century old sycamores.

Sycamores with peeling, white-painted bark.

Bark that seems to come apart at the seams.

Seams covered with crimson red sumac vine.

Vines that kept those years together.

Together during the bitter and sweet seasons.

Seasons are many that fill our lives.

Lives interwoven with faith, hope, love, disappointment, grief.

Grief over ill health, blank dreams, and abandoned promises.

Promises made with good intentions.

Intentions distracted with stressors and others’ disregard.

Disregards are many by hurting or hurtful people.

People everywhere breathe sadness.

Sadness dissipates as they look up to the Heavens.

Heaven’s Divine nature made a canopy of colorful leaves.

Leaves are many of those stand-alone, century old sycamores.

Sycamores that still stand alone near the scattered hills.

Aug20

Nostalgia

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Nostalgia

“Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind. Memories, sweetened through the ages just like wine…” Elvis Presley

The week started with watching the recorded Grand Ole Opry’s show with Vince Gill’s rendition of Ray Price’s “Danny Boy”. Now I love Vince Gill. And his version of this timeless classic was so sweet. But thoughts about the one-and-only singer, Ray Price continued throughout the week. On Friday while celebrating August birthdays at the senior center, the guest singer shared Ray Price’s song “For The Good Times”. Funny how a song can bring you back 50 or 60 years ago. I was brought back to the mid-1960’s watching my parents’ tender moment while they listened to Ray Price’s album playing on the turntable. I believe it was their favorite song.

As this memory lane week went Dean and I had planned to remove the dead refrigerator from our rental house’s garage. While loading the old frig Dean found in its insulation my Girl Scout membership card from 1968. This refrigerator was bought in the 1960’s by my parents. It was their primary refrigeration for a few years in my first childhood home and became the secondary cooler for soda and beer when we moved to the cedar ranch house built by my father on the tree farm. After my parents retired, the refrigerator followed them to their Pike County house, again stocking beverages in the basement. After Dad passed away, my mother moved into a villa in St. Peters. The 50+ year-old refrigerator needed a new home. It lived its last years in the garage of my St. Peters home once again as a beverage cooler. That Girl Scout card was another reminder of my childhood. Seems so long ago. It is long ago, but the memories so clear like it was yesterday.

The nostalgic week ends in the St. Peters house going through boxes of old papers. Some set aside for burning, others thrown away in the trash bin, and others boxed again. I stumbled upon several poems I wrote in the 1990’s. One poem melted my heart. It was about the teddy bear gifted to my oldest daughter, Rachel. As an expectant mother I had unwrapped it at the shower. The brown little fella sat in the baby nursery, came to the childbirth classes, and witnessed Rachel’s birth. The poem continued to talk about my other two babies. Those young motherly feelings were felt so vividly once again. What a beautiful week of nostalgia, sweet memories relived in my heart.

Nov15

Back When

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The “Christmas Trees For Sale” sign in the store front window caught my attention.  Fresh pine scent, the friendly “howdy” greeting, footsteps on the squeaky wood-planked floor, and the jingle of the door bells as I enter and close the door into the little gift shop … each liven my senses … bring me to back when.  A little pony-tailed blonde-haired girl.  Cannot wait for the holiday season, Thanksgiving, Christmas Day, and New Years.  But all the events leading to those wonder-filled holidays.  Baking, decorating, crafting, wrapping, and for me living on a tree farm, setting up the pine trees to sell.  Always Thanksgiving weekend my Dad and Grandpa brought in a truck and trailer overflowed with fresh cut Christmas trees.  Scotch pine, white pine, and spruce trees planted, trimmed, and cared for by Dad, and any family members looking for some extra $$ pitched in.  My siblings and I included.  We would play hide-n-seek in the pile of cut trees until there were no more to set-up.  Snow, ice, or rain, it did not matter. Wholesome fun. We had the time of our lives back when.

 

A weekend away in Branson, Missouri for early Christmas shopping and a membership inquiry with a vacation club for more of these empty nest long weekends and longer week dream vacations.  Dean and I are local shoppers, whether in our home town of St. Charles, Missouri or while on vacation.  There is something down-to-earth about brick & mortar and mom & pop shops.  Branson has the downtown landing and tourist attractions, but take us where the locals shop, eat, and play, please!  Nostalgic Dicks 5 & 10, Main Street Flea Market, the Classy Flea, and the Farmhouse Restaurant … Back when the Nativity was in every shop, home, and city hall.  The holidays included real pine rope trimmings with bright red velvet bow wreaths and pine cones.  Back when that fresh field-cut Charlie Brown tree was dressed with hand-sewn ornaments, Shiny Brite glass balls, and a collection of heirloom from Germany or England, wherever your family originated from.  Back when home-baked breads were served at every meal with a home-jarred fruit preserves, and your favorite sugar cookies piled on a plate or in a large jar for the eating any time.  But not too close to your mother’s or grandmother’s home-cooked dinner, “not to spoil your appetite”.  The house smelled of a fresh pot of chicken & dumplings.  I imagine my father’s Christmases in the 1940’s.  Filled with joy to have his father, my Grandpa Earl back home from the war.  Grandma Anna doting over the menu preparations.  Two or three simply wrapped presents with his name “Marty” on the tags under the tinseled Christmas tree.  Back when is close to my heart at this present moment in the guest bedroom of our 1940’s house.  My family has been blessed with fond memories and we will make more.