Friendship – Valerie's Voice

Square Dancers

My childhood friend, Diane, called me a couple weeks ago, to wish me a happy birthday. We have exchanged the same birthday card since 1979. It has become a treasure. Diane called to say I would be getting the birthday card late this year, because she was “snow birding” in Florida and forgot to bring the card along to send to me from there.

It was fun to chat with her awhile, and catch up on our kids. She told me this story.

In 1953, my father built this house that I grew up in.

When Diane’s mother passed away, several years after her father died, Diane’s son bought his grandparent’s house. So, he now lives in the house where Diane grew up, and across the street from the house where I grew up, in Northeast Minneapolis. It’s wonderful to know the house is still in her family. Her parents built their house in the early 1950’s, as did mine.

A special wall painting discovered under the paneling.

Diane told me her son has done a lot of updating and remodeling of the McKinley Street house, and currently he’s working in the basement. He began tearing the old paneling off the walls. Underneath he found the typical cement blocks, but also a surprise.

Taking care to preserve this special painting.

Back in the late 50’s, Diane’s father painted two life-size square dancers on the cement block wall. I had forgotten about them, but remembered them as soon as Diane mentioned it. A few years later, when her dad finished off their basement, he covered up the square dancers with paneling. Diane recalls that when her dad covered up the painting with paneling…he said, “it will be interesting for someone to discover these dancers someday.”

A moisture control was brushed over the wall painting, to help persevere the painting.

As Diane’s son was tearing down the paneling, lo and behold, he exposed the painting of the square dancers.

Little did Diane’s father know at the time, it would be his own grandson who would discover his special treasure on the wall, under the paneling!

The Recycled Birthday Card

In yesterday’s blog I referred to a birthday card my friend and I have been sending back-and-forth to each other since 1979. I am including a link to a blog post I wrote in October 2016 about this card.

Click here.

However, there is “more to the story” now.

Our little recycled birthday card is now a booklet with 10 pages added to the original card. It’s 44 years old.

This past year my friend, Diane, and her husband spent the winter in Florida, and enjoyed it very much. She did however, text me on my birthday to let me know the birthday card was back in Minnesota so it would be late in getting to me. She would send it when they returned from Florida. She continued to say her packing list for Florida next year will include, her swimsuit, sun tan lotion, and the recycled birthday card!

It is a very special card, from a very special friend.

An Unexpected Gift

I was the benefactor of an unexpected gift recently. I can’t remember the last time I received an unanticipated gift. A gift, intended only for me…for no reason…no special occasion. A friend just thought of me when she saw the gift, bought it and wrapped in up in a “brown paper package tied up with string”.

A beautiful surprise: a brown paper package tied up with string…

Wonder, why, love…were the thoughts and questions I asked myself as I read the sticker on the paper with the string forming a frame around the words, “Thanks for being you.” I was deeply touched.

I carefully untied the string and removed the brown paper. It was a small, vintage book titled, One year of haiku. What a thoughtful gift. I like books, especially old ones. I write haikus, and like to read haikus written by others. The gift inspires me…not only to write haikus, but to pay it forward.

Thank you, friend.

And so, I wrote a haiku:

Given from the heart
Unexpected gift tag read
Thanks for being you.

Sasha

The young man in the photo is Sasha. I have been praying for him since the invasion of Ukraine from Russia, and Ukraine’s decree that all 18-60 year-old men “cannot leave the country, but be prepared to fight.” That would include Sasha…he’d be in his 30’s now.

I met Sasha in 2004 when I was in the Ukraine on a mission trip, helping with an English Language Camp in Cherkassey, south of Kiev. He was 14 or 15 years old and one of the students in my group. He was a wonderful young man, and we made a special connection. Sasha gave me the pink elephant (pictured above) at the celebration for the completion of the language camp at the end of that week. Over the years, I admit, I did lose touch with him, but he has been on my mind these days, and worked himself back into my heart as I pray for his safety during this conflict.

I’m praying, too, for a miracle, and for peace to come quickly to the Ukraine. And for all the wonderful people I met there.

(My grandchildren now play with this cute elephant which I wrote about in a previous post. )

More Photos from Dubuque

Dubuque is Iowa’s oldest city. It was founded in 1833, 13 years before Iowa became a state. The French-Canadian fur trader names Julien Dubuque was instrumental in settling the area, thus its name.

The city has designed a lovely river walk in Port Dubuque, along the Mississippi River. On my recent trip there, my friend and I walked along it several times.

The River Walk along the Mississippi River.

We also sat on benches and watched a lot of river traffic…barges, tugboats, speedboats, etc. I always enjoy watching the “boats go by.”

This recreational boat looks so small next to a long barge and tugboat, on the Mississippi River.

The Shot Tower is located one end of the river walk. It is a national landmark, being one of only a few remaining historic shot towers in the United States.

A visual of how the shot tower made lead shots.

I recently learned what a shot tower is, and found it interesting. According to the plaque, “The Shot Tower was constructed in 1854 to manufacture lead shot ammunition. Molten lead was poured from the top of the tower and passed through a series of sieves to form the shot into its proper size. The shot then landed in a tank of cold water at the bottom of the tower.” Thus, making the ammunition.

There are 30 murals around town, resulting from an event called “Taking it to the Streets”. We noticed several of the murals. I assume there would be a map at the chamber of commerce so one could locate all of them and learn about them. We did not look into this, but there was one mural directly across from our hotel. It was titled Solidarity. It was painted by 75 volunteers, painting side-by-side in one- hour shifts, on this paint-by-number style public art piece; 105’ long X 25” tall.

We walked by the Town Clock. This Town Clock was originally erected in 1873 on top of a building on Main Street, then the clock was moved to the Town Clock Plaza in 1971, where it is today. The clock supposedly maintains accurate time within half second. It stands 110’ tall.

The Grand Opera House, still offering live performances (pre and post Covid of course.)

We also walked by the Grand Opera House which was built in 1890. It is on the National Register of Historic Places.

Closer look at the Grand Opera House stone design.

A super moon was scheduled to rise on our last night in Dubuque, so we purposely went to find a bench on the river walk to sit and watch the full moon rise over the Mississippi River. It did not disappoint!

The full, super moon rising over the river.

We had a wonderful time in this historic river town…There is so much more this city has to offer. We’ll be back.

Out with the old, in with the…old

My picnic basket fell apart. I had it for many years, and used it a lot. It was a durable, wicker basket; deep, with a strong handle and flaps over each topside opening. Eventually the top flaps broke off but it was still a sturdy, useable basket. During the pandemic this past year I kept the basket stocked, and in the car, ready for any opportunity we might have for eating a meal outdoors. It was stocked with hand sanitizer, disinfectant wipes, flatware, drinking cups, paper plates, napkins, and a tablecloth.

My beloved picnic basket – it served us well for many years.

I took it along on a recent trip to Iowa to meet up with a friend for a few days. As I put it in the car I felt the handle (which had already been fixed once with wire) was loosening up. But I still put it in the car. Then while there, I took it out of the car and the handle broke completely. The picnic basket was no longer functional.

But the timing was good. My friend and I like to frequent thrift stores so it was the perfect time to look for a new-to-me picnic basket, and we were successful in finding one.

When I got it home I cleaned it off and set it in the sun to disinfect, and now it’s ready to “carry on” the task of holding our picnic goods for many more years, I hope.

Dubuque: A very long barge traveling down the Mississippi River.

Turkish Delight

A few weeks ago, a friend dropped off a gift for my birthday. It was a bag of Turkish Delight. I have been reading the Chronicles of Narnia so I’m not sure if that is what prompted the idea for the gift. In the book, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Edward is enticed to go with the wicked White Witch because she offers him Turkish Delight, which he cannot resist.

I had never tasted Turkish Delight before. It’s good… sugar-covered nougat with pistachios. My train of thought from tasting the candy was as follows: it started with the gift, to the book series I’m reading, to nougat candy, to candy stores, to Apache Plaza where my friend Diane and I would go to the Fanny Farmer candy store and buy a quarter’s worth of almond bark! What a crazy thought pattern.

I grew up in northeast Minneapolis, in a wonderful neighborhood filled with a lot of kids to play together. My two best friends lived across the street: Donna & Diane. A few blocks away, past a section of woods where we would often play, then across a couple busy streets, Apache Plaza was built, in 1961. It was the second enclosed mall in Minnesota, Southdale Center being the first.

Our moms would let us girls walk up to Apache Plaza together (neighborhoods were safer back then). I remember the layout of Apache well. We usually entered through Murphy’s Department Store. After looking at all the trinkets we’d go into the plaza and walk around. JCPenney’s was an anchor store, as was Montgomery Ward.

In addition to buying a quarter’s worth of almond bark at Fanny Farmer, we would sometimes go to the soda fountain at Woolworth’s and order a coke and French fries (I’d like to do that again!) I bought records (45’s or albums) at Musicland and spent hours in Minnesota Fabrics looking at sewing patterns and fabric. There was Brown’s Photo where our family had film developed, a pet shop we always walked around in to see the animals, and downstairs was a bowling alley. Apache Plaza was damaged by a tornado in 1984 and demolished in 2004.

The Turkish Delight was a delightful, simple gift given, that brought back such fun and crazy memories, especially a quarter’s work of almond bark!

Florence

Another significant loss in 2020.

Florence would have been 100 years old Saturday, December 26, 2020.

She almost made it…She was still living by herself in her home of 52 years, where she died last Saturday…two weeks before her birthday.

Her house was one I always liked to go to, and she was a woman I always liked to visit.

She was like family to me…she was my aunt’s forever friend and they lived together since high school.

A photo of Florence on the left, and my Auntie Ag on the right, in 1997. Two remarkable women in my life.

She was there before I was born. She was there at our extended family Christmas’. She was there for the holidays, the confirmations, the graduations and the weddings. She was just always there, a part of the family.

Auntie Ag and Florence were dear friends. After my aunt died in 2004 we continued to keep in touch with Florence. Florence was an independent woman, and stubborn too, and insisted on staying in her own home by herself. Her mind was sharp and she took care of her finances until the end…but she was losing her hearing and that made communication difficult. But there are many fond memories.

God bless you Florence. May you Rest in Peace. You will be missed.

God Remembers Me

The room where we met was the kitchen…wallpaper – circa 1970.

We sat at the vintage kitchen table in the new addition of the old farmhouse. There was plenty of light; one large picture window facing south, that overlooked the driveway and the cornfield. Out the other window, facing west, you could see the barn and other farm buildings. There were always a lot of cats hanging around outside the back door by their food dishes, and birds at a birdfeeder right outside the front window. There was life.

The farmer and his wife, really a city girl converted to a farmer’s wife, were in their late 80’s when we first met. We attended the same church but we didn’t know each other until we began our coffee visits. We started to meet regularly.

The coffee cups were cracked and mismatched but we didn’t care. The coffee itself was very strong but ready upon our arrival to their place. We always provided sweet treats, which they liked. After awhile I started to set the table when we arrived, and served the coffee, since it was getting harder for them to get in and out of chairs. We settled into a comfortable routine.

It all began when I heard he wanted a regular visitor for his wife. He had been living with cancer for over 30 years. Mayo considered him a miracle. He was starting to have other health issues; she was in the beginning stages of memory loss.

So I called to ask her out for coffee. In our initial conversation she asked, “Just me and you?” I laughed and said, “Well, I think my husband would enjoy visiting with you and your husband, how does that sound?” “OK.” And so our visits with the four of us began.

They were engaging folks…they had a lot of interesting stories to tell and yet they were always curious about our lives too. We met for a couple of years on a regular basis. We enjoyed each other immensely. For my husband and I, it was nice to have elders in our life once again since all our parents had passed away.

As time went by they slowed down more and more until he died at age 90 leaving behind his wife of 69 years! They had four children. Their son was their neighbor, living conveniently on the next farm over. The other three daughters lived in the cities but were able to come down often to visit and care for their mother. She was loved.

I continued to go and have coffee visits with her after her husband died until Covid-19 reared its ugly head. She moved into her son’s home and we were all in lockdown.

After March 2020 I tried calling her but I usually had to leave messages on her answering machine…she picked up once or twice and the conversation was just a few minutes long…”how are you? fine”…and I know she understood the pandemic situation. Then that stopped. She didn’t pick up any more. I would send her notes telling her I was thinking of her so she would know I hadn’t forgotten her.

I had her son’s phone number. Six months went by and one day I called and left a message with him. His sister, one of the daughters, called me back. She said their mom was doing ok, had more bad days than good. Thankfully she did know all her children and grandchildren but unfortunately, according to her daughter, she no longer remembered who I was.

And that changed everything. I confirmed to her daughter that I would no longer call or send notes. It felt like a rejection. In my head I know it’s not but in my heart I was very sad.

It was hard to think that my special friend no longer remembers our conversations about her 35 dresses in her closet when she was a child, and about the Young-Quinlan Store in downtown Minneapolis. We shared memories of both growing up in the city of Minneapolis, and then she moving to the farm and I moving to a small town near her farm and our paths crossing at church. She doesn’t remember showing me the photo of her dearly beloved grandfather E-V-E-R-Y-T-I-M-E we were together…”He was born in 1856 and died in 1955, just think of all the changes he saw in his lifetime” she always said. She no longer remembers our chats about her beautiful dishes…and our mutual fondness of dishes and her showing me all her dishes.

But I remember…I remember hearing the stories of this city girl who grew up to be a strong woman…she liked to drive fast cars and she was one of the first women to work at the air traffic control center in Farmington for 27 years. She was also a farmer’s wife, fixing tractors and driving tractors and helping on the farm. Oh what a life she led…

She knitted beautiful sweaters. She learned to knit in elementary school – quilt squares for soldiers in WWII – and she never stopped knitting. She had four children who “she never had to worry about.” I was privileged to get to know her story a little bit…and I grew to love and care for this woman very much, never realizing the sadness it would cause when she didn’t remember me any more.

I cherish the memories. I smile a little when I remember our good times together, then I cry a little when I remember she doesn’t remember them, or me, anymore.
I have more empathy for those sons and daughters whose mothers do not remember them.

But thank God – He remembers me, and He will never forget me.

First Snow

We woke up to three inches of snow. It was the first morning on a recent trip to Madison where I met up with my friend from Indiana. This was the end of October, and to see 3″ of snow was a little earlier than I’d like, but it was beautiful.

However, our plan that morning was to go to Olbrich Botanical Gardens and the snow only enticed us more…we were excited to see how the snow enhanced the gardens.

It was a delight. The skies were fall blue, the air was crisp and the paths were inviting…we said we felt like we were in Narnia.

From an elevated platform in the gardens.

Snow covered the tree branches and plants and bushes…all outdoor furniture… and a gentle wind blew swirls of snow off the trees. The paths were mostly clear because the sidewalks were warm enough to melt the snow as it touched the ground.

After spending a good amount of time outside we finally got chilled and went indoors.

IThe snow had already melted off this fall display.

Once inside we walked through the warm, tropical conservatory with birds and butterflies. It was a great way to warm up our whole body.

Even though I’m not ready for winter to begin, the first snowfall of this season turned out to be a wonderful event. But I’m thankful we were in Madison and there was no snow back home in Northfield.