friendship and the women in my life

my grandma at age 98

My grandmother was one of the kindest, happiest and loving people I knew.
She was a friend to all.  She was the type of person who took in a neighbor's child on weekdays to get him off to school because the child's mother had to leave for work early in the morning.  She gave to everyone, all the time, with no strings attached.

My mother learned from her and showed my sister and I, through example how to be a good friend. She talked to us about friendship.  It was from this springboard that I set my standards for friendship. Lately I have been reflecting on the value of this.

What would I do without my best friends?

I have women in my life that I can turn to when things are really rough.
I can call them and cry and get comforted.
I can see them after a year and pick up where we left off.
I can tell them anything with no judgement.
They try to help me in any way they can.

These women are my tribe.
Most of them don't know one another.
They are scattered all over the globe.

Some are relatives including my mother and sister.

Thank you ladies.  You keep me going.

You know who you are.
janeldawnieterrimomjillnankathyjuliettejerishubaannieradhabesspamkatecathysara

And thank you Grandma and Mom, for the example.  I set the bar high, and yet I still have found some gems in my life.

corner view~good memories

The year is 2006.  We are gathered in a small rural town in Pennsylvania for my maternal grandmother's 100th birthday.  My parents and siblings are there with most of their families.  My aunt, uncle, and cousins have come as well as another aunt and uncle from my father's side of the family.  We are six months early from Christmas day, when Grandma actually turns 100.  But this is the time when most of the family, who are spread out all over the country, can gather.  My grandmother has never been demanding and this time is no different.  She is so happy to see us all.    

We are in the nursing home where she lives, in a large room that my mother has reserved for the occasion.  It is by no means fancy, but that matters little to the people gathered there.  They are there to honor and love my grandmother, who was the epitome of grace.  Much like my mother, whose name means grace, by the way.

The above photo was a moment I captured on film that day when my oldest child made my brother laugh  -- two first borns making a connection through humor.  I don't know what she said, but he liked it.

On that day there was food and music and stories were told.  There were lots of hugs and kisses and laughter.  Photos were taken.  Gifts were given.  Friends came.  We stayed the day.  My grandmother's photo was in the local newspaper soon thereafter, a picture with then baby Shawn reaching up to her.   The photograph accompanied a very nice story about Grandma and her life's accomplishments. After all, not too many people live to be 100, and she was a long time beloved teacher in this small town.

Grandma died after she turned 100, about a year after the party to celebrate her life. My brother, pictured above, is a doctor.  He had told her years before, when she was in her eighties, "Grandma you're so healthy you'll live to be a hundred!" She believed him.

She was such a great lady.  She encouraged us and welcomed us at every visit, and supported my parents in every way.  She was always helping her friends and neighbors.  She loved to crochet and made most of the gifts she gave to us. She was gentle and kind, but a little stern.  We were expected to behave around her, but we did, we loved her so.  

Now there are even more great grandchildren in the family than there were in 2006. This summer many of us will reunite.  I am excited.  I miss my family. Thank goodness for good memories!

        Grandma with my mom and uncle

grandpa

Sky makes red Sauce, with a blur of Shawn

My grandfather had a saying he used to tell my dad when my dad was a young father. "Paul," he would say, "when you own a home, your work is never done. It's just one round of enjoyment after the next."
I feel the same way about family life.  But I would not have it any other way.

corner view~mother

She seemed natural for her destiny at a young age.

 Mom with baby me and my brother

Nancy, from the Hebrew language, means grace.

When I was a little girl, for me, my mother was a glimpse of joy.  I thought she was a real live beauty queen.  She was elected sweetheart of a college fraternity and was pictured riding on top of a car in a small parade.  I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, all elegant and poised, her smile so delicate, white pearls circling her neck.  I stared at that picture many times, hanging on our wall.  

Our first love is that of a mother.  There are some mothers who embody grace and class and kindness.  They put others at ease.  People come to them when they need support, a smile, a hug.  These mothers always know what to say, even when a thirteen-year-old boy has broken their newly teenaged daughter's heart, or their bald, teary, cancer-stricken friend has just vented for a half hour.  They bake for the widower neighbor, the recluse guy who never talks to anyone, just because.  They utter daily prayers, mostly for other people.  They take the time to make things beautiful in their home, so when you visit, each room is tidy, comfortable, blessed with fragrant lilacs and soft buttercups.  These mothers make things from scratch with no effort at all, and they only eat pie when everyone else has been served.  They remind you to enjoy your life when you forget and get stressed.  They store your things in their basement for years until you decide what to do with them.  And their door is always open to their children, even when they are grown, and living thousands of miles from home. 

These types of mothers have inexhaustible hearts.

These types of mothers are perfect grandmothers.

These types of mothers are the best kind of mothers to have.

I am so lucky that God blessed me with a mother like this.  I love you Mom.  Happy Mother's Day!     

corner view~wisdom from an elder

My grandfather was a kindhearted, happy, giving man that everyone loved.  He was always patient and caring with all people he interacted with, and I never saw him lose his temper.  I was blessed to spend a lot of quality time with him as a child.  What I remember about him most was that he was always laughing and making jokes.  He had white hair when I knew him, but as a boy he had bright red, curly hair, "so thick you couldn't get a comb through it," he would always tell me.  I think he related to me because I too have red hair.

He played the trumpet, often accompanying my grandmother while she played the piano.  

Grandpa, as we called him, made friends with everyone.  He was forever helping people in need, and loved hard work.  Many a tree was trimmed, many a driveway plowed, many a field mowed due to his generous spirit.  He lived in the country in a rural neighborhood, and took it upon himself to take care of all of the open space in this neighborhood.  In the winter he would take us into the woods and we would pick ground pine that he would make into beautiful wreaths.  In the summer we picked wild berries for hours, our arms and legs covered to protect us from the prickers.  Each summer I spent a week by myself with him and my grandmother, and after supper every night we would take a walk.  We would be out for an hour or two, until twilight, as so many neighbors would come to say hello to their neighbor, "Bob."  He was the most popular person in the neighborhood.

"Look at this girl turn a cartwheel," he used to brag.  Sometimes he even asked me to do it in stores, or parking lots.  I was always happy to oblige.

Grandpa didn't discriminate much with friends, and some of them were more colorful than others.  He had a knack for making friends with people with the strangest names.

Flick Haley
Mike Ice
Uni Gagen
Clarence Kinyon
Timothy Splitfinger
Turd Willager
Ferman Sweetapple

The wisdom he imparted was by example.  However he did have a few classic sayings that we heard many times growing up.

*Money is like manure.  It's no good unless you spread it around.
*It's good to get together with family for awhile and have happy times.  It doesn't cost anything to laugh.
*A bottle of beer is okay once in awhile but you don't have to drink the whole case.
*If you listen to your mother you'll be all right.  If you don't you won't.
*Do you live to eat, or eat to live?
*That woman hates beer more than the devil hates holy water.
*It doesn't cost anything to be nice.

The most important lesson he taught me was to be happy and enjoy life.

Thank you Jane, for giving me the opportunity to choose this week's corner view.  For more wisdom from elders all over the world, go to the sidebar here.

I want to welcome my other daughter, Annabel, to corner view.  She's 11. Check out her post today.

Also please check back this Thursday, as I will be doing a surprise giveaway.  My first.

generations of flower lovers

My mother is notorious for unique gifts.  My sister too.  A few years ago my mother gave me a framed set of 2 old schoolwork assignments that belonged to my great aunt, my grandmother's oldest sister.  A simple dried pressed geranium attached with white tape, with some handwritten notes she had written about it.  And one about a bachelor's button as well.  No Wikipedia, just a botanical book for a resource.  No font to choose, just her elegant script.

I never met this aunt, the woman whose name we chose for our second born.  Annabel. 

My grandmother loved her sisters, there were many of them growing up on a farm in rural Pennsylvania.  I knew most of my great aunts, Molly, Sib, Frances, and of course, Aunt Ella.  My grandmother was the glue, one of the youngest, but good to all of her sisters, different though they were. 

The framed set now hangs in my hallway as a reminder of my grandmother and those aunts who are long gone.  A generation's love of and dependence on growing things, not only flowers for beauty and medicine, but of food for survival.