The Day We Went 'Round the Bend

Last week something pretty special happened. In fact, something rather extraordinary... My Mom celebrated her 95 years on the planet.

Think about that. 95 years. That's almost a century. Can you imagine the joy, the heartache, the love, the loss, the changes she has seen in her lifetime? The wisdom we can glean from her?

We asked her what she wanted to do to celebrate. She lives in a nice retirement community (still living independently in her own apartment and cooking and baking and sewing for the world - literally.) She wanted to host a party for her friends and family. And so we did.

And there was cake. A big cake.

Which was good because almost 100 people turned out. How 'bout that? A person for just about every year Mom has been on Earth. 

Four of her five children were there; my sister wasn't feeling well and couldn't make the trip.  We missed her...  But the four that were there each gave a little tribute to Mom and I think my brother said it best when he said, "We know why Mom's still here at 95. Because God's not done with her yet! She has more people to take care of!"  

So many people asked Mom what the secret to her longevity was... her response was always the same.  "Stay busy." I touched on that in my tribute to her - saying I hope I inherited her longevity gene because I have always taken Mom's advice about "staying busy" to heart. I need a couple of lifetimes to pursue all my interests!

Two days later on her actual birthday (September 24th) part of the family joined her for a scenic train ride.

Mom waiting for the train with her favorite son-in-law.

Ok. Her only son-in-law.

We went 'round the bend.

And we saw birds.

And canyons 120 feet straight down. Gulp.

I had time to chat with my sister. Who is uber cool.

And my brother who likes to photo bomb.

We were dubbed "The Rowdy Bunch."  

(You will notice who can't quite unplug. Ever. 

Yup, that's the Mister and me with our phones in our hands.)

I don't have a clue why.

It was a goofy, fun, wonderful way to make new memories 

on the day she turned 95...

The Tears Rolled into My Ears, Darlin'

Its been a hauntingly quiet day here in the studio. The Mister has been gone helping his parents with some minor flooding in their basement. I'm missing Boo snoring on her bed... I've made such a comfortable, cozy nook for A-choo downstairs she no longer keeps me company here.  I took a break from work and put together a little photo-history of my Mom and her life for her 95th birthday next week.  

Mom's natural environment is the kitchen.

She's had quite a life that Mom of mine... She has done everything from pumping gas at the Conoco station she and my Dad ran when they were first married to butchering her own chickens and planting huge gardens to rocking babies to sleep in the hospital nursery where she was a night nurse. And somewhere in all that, raised five kids.

She makes THE best cinnamon rolls - omg - hot out of the oven with some butter - to die for. Her homemade noodles are thick and soft and delicious. I grew up in a Norwegian community (although I am 1/4 Dane and for some reason the Norwegians rank higher...). So I grew up with kumla (a sort of potato dumpling best when smothered in butter) and kringla (a kind of Norwegian shortbread - again best hot out of the oven smothered in butter). Gez, I never realized how much butter we used... explains why I'm allergic to dairy now.

She sews every day of her life - even now. She has an active social life with friends in her retirement complex and her church. I joke that I have a really nice relationship with her answering machine; she's never home!

She lost her husband of 62 years back in 2002 and I know she misses him to this day. But her response to what The Universe threw her back then was to stay busy.  Just stay busy.

I think that is where I learned to block sad things from my mind. Its why I may sometimes appear stoic or reserved. It's just how I deal. Until the other day when I had an acupuncture treatment and for some inexplicable reason two minutes after the acupuncturist left the room - tears began to flow. I started thinking about Simba and more tears. I thought about some other things that have transpired in this sucky year of 2013 - it has been a year of much loss - and more tears flowed. Lying there with needles in my arms and hands I couldn't move. So the tears ran into my ears. (Sounds like a country song, doesn't it?  The tears rolled into my ears, darlin'.) So at least then I could think about something else. Like how it was driving me crazy to have tears just pooling up there in my ears and I couldn't move to wipe them out.

Finally she re-enters the room and I ask, "Is this treatment supposed to make you cry?"

"It can."

"Well, it did."

We talked for a bit and she said, "I don't know you that well, but it seems like maybe you hold your emotions captive. That's not good. You need to let things out or the stress and the sadness and the anger will literally affect your health."  (Hmmm... high blood pressure.)

So rather than actually express my emotions I booked another treatment. Yup, that's me. I'd rather lie on a bed with needles in me than confront my emotions.

Mom and Me

My Mom raised three sets of children really.  My three older siblings were all born within a couple of years of each other; I was born seven years later and my sister seven years after me. In essence that made me somewhat of an only child, as is my younger sister.  So we all had different parenting experiences with our parents.  That being said we all know Esther Miller as a woman we love dearly and admire greatly.

She was born in central Iowa in 1918, the sixth of eight children born to parents who were farmers of Norwegian heritage.  She met this handsome bloke (my younger son bears an uncanny resemblance to my Dad at that age...) in 1937.

And she married him on February 13, 1940 at the age of 22.  

(I came by this sewing thing honestly.  

My Mom and her Mother made her wedding gown and veil.)

They had, as I mentioned, five kids and in addition to raising us my Mom worked every day of her life.  She helped my Dad on a little farm they had; then went on to help him in a gas station they owned. She eventually followed a path she truly loved and became a nurse.  She worked the night shift at our local hospital for many years ~ so she could be home during the day with her family.  

My friends today tease me about my early morning hours working in my studio.  I guess I come by that honestly, too,  as I don't remember my Mom getting more than about three - four hours of sleep at a time...  She's always had endless amounts of energy.  She made every musical concert and every play I was in.  She didn't make all the football and wrestling tournaments where I lead the cheers; but that's understandable.  There were just too many of them.  When she wasn't doing for her own family, she was helping someone else.  And still is to this day.

Today, at 94 (and a half she will remind you) Mom is living a nice life she deserves.  Dad passed in 2002, shortly after they moved into a retirement community where she still lives independently (very much so) in her cute little apartment.  She sews every day (apple; tree) and quilts three - four times a week with her friends. She bakes constantly - most often kringla (a Norwegian shortbread). She is a devout Lutheran and volunteers for all kinds of things in her church and home community.  Until she stopped driving a couple of years ago she was the go-to taxi driver for many friends who needed a ride to the doctor, a trip to the grocery store.

(Mom at 18 and at 88)

The older I get the more I have come to respect and admire and just plain ol' love her.  She's a hard act to follow, but I'm trying.  When I called her Friday to wish her an early Happy Mother's Day she said, "Oh I'm glad you waited until now to call (5:00 CDT)!  I've been gone all day and just walked in the door."  94.  And a half.  And the reason I called her Friday is because I knew she had plans for the entire weekend!

And then of course, a whole 'nother story is these characters who gave me the name "Mom."

I loved them then

So much I could've smooshed them to pieces.

Still do

Still could.