Tag Archives: memories

From Silver to Gold

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Earlier in the day I’d had trouble seeing the inside of a beautiful, unusually shaped ring that I’d recently found in a local schoolyard while detecting. Rather than being flat, it was almost tubular with the inside wall of the tube cut away so that it could rest on a finger. I mentioned to hubby that I thought there was something written or stamped inside but that I couldn’t tell exactly what it was. 

A few minutes later, as I stood in the shower, he popped into the bathroom to say that he’d managed to view the questionable mark with his tiny magnifying glass and that it was “925.” That’s the mark indicating that the metal is actually silver. 

“Silver!” My mind raced back to the time when Mom embarrassed my first husband. It hadn’t been intentional on her part but, in retrospect, I must admit that she tended toward the unusual in many ways. Time would prove that he didn’t handle “unusual” very well.  

Sadly, I don’t remember the exact set of circumstances, but I think that Mom was picking us up from the airport for some reason. We were riding the train system from point A to point B. As you’d expect, there were a few other people around. That failed to stop Mom’s somewhat strange, spontaneous sense of humor, however. 

Suddenly, she began looking right…then left…then right again. Her expression was one of both wide-eyed excitement and determination. Quickly standing, she crouched and moved conspicuously down the aisle — attracting a bit more attention. (She tended to be very dramatic when given the opportunity.) Once she reached her objective, she stopped and again looked around excitedly. Without saying a word, she slowly reached toward something that was on the floor. By this time, I was wondering, “Oh no! What-in-the-heck are you up to!” and, like me, he was watching every move. 

Moving quickly, she pulled a bright metal object to her breast then, after examining her “prize,” as though in triumph, she raised a shiny stainless steel spoon above her head and declared in a loud, clear voice, “SILLLVERRR!” 

Ah, yes, it was obvious that my husband had seen nothing that he considered to be funny. As a matter of fact, his five-o’clock-shadowed chin quivered though he didn’t even acknowledge that anything had happened. That should have spoken volumes to me but, at the time, I didn’t see it. This was likely the exact point in time at which husband #1 decided that he could never like…much less love the eccentric, outspoken woman who was my Mom. She had just forced him to experience one of those “I-want-to-crawl-in-a-hole” type moments. 

Mom’s been dead for almost thirty years so I relished the time spent standing in the shower being pelted with thoughts of her and the unusual woman she had been. It was that single memory which put the smile on my face as the hot water washed over me. Even today, I can’t help but smile when I think of that…and her many other idiosyncratic antics and behaviors. Thank you, Lord!

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie…Even In The Middle of Class?

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It’s 27* this morning and Suzi and Sammie were in their traditional spot as I showered. Where is that? In front of the heater, of course. As I stood there, a memory washed over me as though straight from the shower head. It fell on me softly and took me to a place I hadn’t thought of for quite a while.

I drifted back to the time when Suzi was in obedience class over six years ago. We were surrounded by various dogs and owners at the time and were reviewing the exercise that we’d just completed. Now, you and I both know that the verbal chit chat was for the benefit of the owners. Suzi knew it, too. She’s no dummy!

As I sat there, listening intently, she was leaning back on my chest with her belly up to the rest of the world. Since, in order to train dogs to allow us to trim their nails with no trouble, I’d heard that handling each paw was a good thing. So, as I listened, I gently stroked one of her front paws. It must have felt really good, too, for she seemed very relaxed.

The instructor stopped in mid sentence and said, “Is Suzi actually sleeping during class?! I can’t believe it!” Yup! That’s exactly what she was doing. In defense of Suz…naturally, rudeness wasn’t intentional but just happened in the natural scheme of things. After all, shugs were and still are, for that matter, very important to her.

So the class ended on a less instructional note than planned and Suzi was able to snag a little nap so that she’d be refreshed for her next adventure.

“Mom’s Room”

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Display Table in Current Spot

It’s only fair to admit that it’s never been Mom’s Room at all. Regardless of what you call it, though, as I sit in my “office” (originally a formal dining room), from my chair, I look through the foyer and into what used to be the formal living room of the home that Guy T and I bought two decades ago. (Wow! Though I find it hard to imagine, that makes me pretty old.)

So, if it’s never actually been Mom’s room, why-in-the-heck…?

It’s sort of a long story so, I’ll likely be forced to tell it in pieces. The truth of the matter is that my original intent this morning had been to talk about…dusting, of all things! Well, not really dusting-but that’s where my thoughts headed before they were diverted?

I’ll work backwards, since memories are, in a sense, life lived backwards. Just before she left this earth, Mom had asked me to promise that, when she died and we got official “custody” of their home, we’d sell it and use the money for a new home. Being an obedient daughter, that’s exactly what we did.

When we found our lovely new nest, it seemed only fair to name one of the rooms “Mom’s Room”. So, the formal living room in the front of the house, was filled with some of her favorite furniture and “Mom’s Room” was born!

Picture the huge, long, blue, three-cushion couch against the far wall accented by an antique glass display table in the corner. Then, throw a lamp and sundry artistic items in the mix. Her curvaceous, wooden free-formed coffee table served as a lovely footstool. In the corner diagonal to the couch was a stately, modernish lime green chair which she’d reupholstered a couple of times. Tossed throughout the room were pillows and afghans in combinations of bright blue and lime green. Those were, you must understand, her favorite colors.

In 2002, when I received the diagnosis of ductile carcinoma, it was in Mom’s room that I suddenly found myself on my knees. No, I wasn’t talking to her but, it was much like kneeling beside her and resting my head on her lap…as I talked to God about my fears, inadequacy to carry the load, and to seek His guidance. In a sense, both were there with me. But that’s another story…for yet another time.