FAREWELL TO 2007

I'm not often fooled, but I ended 2007 with a big one!! In looking for slides for the Christmas sideshow, I found this delightful picture of me, Steve and Tom. Hmm..Steve looks to be about two years old, so it must be 1979. I didn't remember ever having a pink and white granny square afghan, but, oh well...the shirt Tom has on is one of his absolute favorites which he wore every day and every night for months until I threw it away. However, today I looked at the picture more closely and realized that "Tom" is older than "Steve." That I really didn't have a pink and white afghan, and that I don't recognize the china cabinet in the corner!! It's actually a picture of Aunt Joan; Jeff is the two year old, and Joe is wearing the shirt he eventually handed down to Tom!! I don't often make such a mistake, but.... This is how Steve really looked in 1979!! It's probably the same shirt, since we exchanged hand-me-downs often. Tommy is the baby; Grandma Kennedy is there because Tommy was blessed on that day. The little guy with no shirt on is Zach Panhorst.

This is how Aunt Joan and I look now. How could I have made such a silly mistake??

I end 2007 thinking of a topic which I've already addressed in an earlier blog. Forgiveness. Forgiving ourselves. Forgiving others. I watched a brief tv interview concerning the fact that putting aside anger and grudges is good for one's physical health. I really believe that we could have a much happier 2008 if we would set aside our grudges, our perceived slights from others, etc. and MOVED ON. Many, many years ago a friend, who had been my roommate for several years, came to me in tears. She was to give a church lesson on forgiveness and felt that she had to ask my forgiveness before she could give the lesson. She sobbed uncontrollably, but she never did tell me what she had done for which I should forgive her! I forgave her, of course, but I still don't know of what I forgave her. The experience taught me an important lesson about moving on. I've tried to practice this principle ever since. However, I've seen so many stories recently on the news of the sad, sad results of not being able to forgive and move on. Let us not find ourselves in that position!! So, here's to moving on in 2008. Love and hugs. Mom

How Did I Get Myself Into Project Mode???

This crazy week began with a mere suggestion to Darla that I really needed to keep a promise to Heather which I had made during the Nutcracker visit! She jumped on the bandwagon and revved her project mode engine into high gear!! I abandoned my current project--one block of which is shown below. My current project is to make quilts for each member of my family who doesn't have a quilt that I made!! Given my skills, I'm not sure how wonderful such a gift will be, but I figure I have 25+ quilts in my future. Little Carter's quilt should be a masterpiece!! I began with granddaughter, DeAnne, because I couldn't think of one single handmade item I had ever given her, so I'm making her a Christmas crazy quilt because her birthday is on Christmas Eve. (This will explain for some of you very neatnik seasmstresses why you see a big, loose pile of material in some of my pictures. A crazy quilt involves using up all your extra material.) The next step was to get out the plans given to me by Heather. Here are two pages from her journal, which she keeps religiously. If it's been a while since you read Kindergarten script, I'll translate. Her writing says: "went to a party." Then she has drawn three dresses in her journal--her own designer creations. She asked me, as if it were as easy as making the bed, if I would sew her the dresses for her dollies because her Mama doesn't have a sewing machine. Giving in to that plaintive little appeal, I made a copy of the journal pages--thinking she would forget in a day or two that she had made the drawings. In the middle of the night, I remembered that she once remembered after two years what kind of ice cream bar her grandpa eats, so I knew she wouldn't forget something as important as dress designs. Besides, her birthday's January 14.

Darla and I rushed to town to find doll patterns and a sample doll who was 18" tall, since Heather is the proud collector of American girl dolls. Vale, who's been on a couple of sallies through the doll aisle, lives in dread of such trips. He stands on the very edge of the entrance to the aisle, keeping an eye out for any boy who may venture within ten feet. If a boy comes by, Vale makes a dramatic backwards leap, lest he should be perceived as being in the doll aisle. It was no mean feat to find a doll two days after Christmas, but we managed to find Walt Disney's "Belle," who is fifteen inches tall. Darla is so taken with this project that she intends to take home some of the material, the patterns, and the doll to make some doll clothes for a little girl that she might have some day.

If you know anything about the currently popular American girl dolls, you know that they are expensive collector dolls, and they come with a book about themselves. So, Darla spent a lot of time writing a cute little book called "Heather Feather Clothes Designer." It is too precious for words and will be found on Darla's blog, http://darlasdomain.blogspot.com/ when she finishes it. I have been doing some of the sewing. Vale wants nothing to do with the project; he's exhausted from hiding out from other boys, and he has a dozen new games and an XBox to keep himself occupied. Dad's getting a little tired of fending for dinner for himself, but he's busy watching all the preparations for the Iowa Caucus.

I've sewn and sewn and sewn as has Darla. We've produced the three outfits shown below.

What has been the most fun of all is that, for the first time in a long, long time Darla and I have been able to work on a project together. We've thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. There's been a sweetness about our project because it hasn't been for ourselves. Now, she's leaving me to clean up the disorganized sewing room!! Ah, well...what's new?? Cheers from the windy, rainy climes. Mom

Check out my Slide Show!

Check out my Slide Show!

Grandma's Message

Christmas Hiatus

Dad turns 69

Christmas changes when you're retired. There is a lull in Christmas that exists at no other time in your life. I've done Christmas for 36 years now, know all the ins and outs of Christmas purchases, wrapping, cardding, baking, cooking, etc., etc. Some of the ritual has even become departmentalized; I know what groceries to purchase for the annual goodies without writing them down, finished all Christmas gifts so long ago that I've already begun January sewing, which has nothing to do with Christmas!! So, there's been a lull--a hiatus--the last few days that is a calm before the storm. Today, Darla and I are doing a Christmas project that will probably take well into the night, and Monday will be filled with shopping and baking, the hiatus over.

There have been unique experiences this Christmas. Last year, we received a Christmas card from a dead man; this year a card from ....... This year there's been lots and lots of snow, although there probably won't be a white Christmas unless Vale's prayer for a white Christmas can negate the prayers of thousands of travelers who want to get home safely for Christmas. We pooped out on our Christmas decorations this year; the house is beautifully and elaborately decorated by most standards, but one day we just said, "We've done enough," and packed up what wasn't done and put it away for next year. Tom and I have no gifts for each other under the tree, although we are expecting Nancy Newyear, who will bring a fancy new camera. We just can't think of anything we want or need enough to wrap and put under the tree. Objects don't seem important. Don't misunderstand; nothing has changed for us; we're just in that Christmas hiatus--that lull. In our shopping tomorrow, we may find gifts for one another which just have to be bought and shared on Christmas morn, but so far.....

This Christmas has been more nostalgic, more about reminiscings and rememberings than others I can remember. We've laughed until our sides ached through several hundred old slides we found which depict the early years of our life together--side burns, horn-rimmed glasses, trim bodies, and tiny children, sniffled our way through several old nostalgic Christmas movies that we would have ignored just a year or two ago, stood looking at Christmas displays and half-melted snowmen for several minutes rather than with a fleeting glance. I think, it's the luxury of being older of not being subject to deadlines, of smelling the roses.

Tom turned 69 yesterday. He looks to me just the same as he did in March of 1971 when he peeked in my apartment window, and I fell instantly, eternally in love with him. Age has added some wonderful smile lines and crow's feet and a greyish sheen to his hair, but his spirit and personality haven't diminished in any way. He has treated me as a queen all our married lives; there have never been harsh words of any kind, no criticism, no doubting me. A raised eyebrow perhaps, a quick sigh, but full acceptance of who I am. He is a true renaisance man; I think I have the term right. He is a gentleman, a hard worker, a caring father, a loving grandfather. He's sentimental, loves chick flicks and sentimental movies, watches three or four shows at once on tv, devours the current political scene with enthusiasm but can walk away when he feels he is too consumed or upset. He is a scriptorian, a Biblical scholar, and a living testament of what he believes. He's witty; he can be a tease...He's a good, good man, and I still wonder, after nearly 37 years of knowing him intimately, how all the stars aligned so perfectly to bring him into my life!! I will never know, but I think, knowing my luck on some other levels, that it is best not to question, best to enjoy... Cheers, Mom

THE GIVING OF A GIFT

The magical weekend lingers only in my memory!! I've flown over the Grand Canyon with my daughter, seen the "Nutcracker," ridden in a mini-Cooper with the top down, walked through the lighted grounds of the Mesa temple, and been treated to a concert of "Mary Had a Little Lamb." Plus, I have slept like a queen in a bed which has a remote to lift the head or foot of the bed, a remote to turn on the tv, a remote to control the lights, an anti-smog mirror in the shower, but no magic snapping finger to make the bed! Seen Heather's "private, secret 'things,'" been privy to TJ's "important" secret--that there is no Santa Claus, and re-discovered Toby's lost Baby who had found his way under the bed. A wondrous weekend. There is always within one special gift--many myriads of other gifts! The gift of a wonderful weekend was special, but even more special was the gift of my daughter!! What a priceless treasure to peek in on her sleeping once more in the room she had as a tiny baby, watch her eyes light up

when she saw the snow on the sun deck, experience her tender solicitiousness of me as we searched for the car, observe her whispered explanation of the pantomimes to her five year of the Nutcracker, and on and on and on--the gift of her sweet spirit and loving kindness. How we must give thanks for the tender mercies of the Father in our behalf!!

It is always fun to see the little dittoes in the children of your children. Susan was so solicitous and sweet all weekend, and Heather was half-a-step behind. This summer, I took some of the grandchildren to see "Ratatouille," which I found disgusting--not even Walt Disney can make rats cute for me. When the Rat Army came on stage, Heather told me, "Don't worry, Grandma, the soldiers will take care of the rats." Wisdom from a five year old. Blessed day to all. Basking in memory. Mom

BLANK MIND

I intended to write a blog before my magical trip to see "The Nutcracker," which begins in about an hour and a half, but my mind is a complete blank!! So, I decided to download some pictures to get some ideas stuffed into my blank mind.

As you can see by the picture of Steve and Kobe, our decorating is nearly done. As we dug out the decorations, it was almost as if one of those clouds from a Disney movie with a little genie came floating out as well. So many memories are connected with Christmas decorations. Kobe was a walking Fan Club--"This is way cool, Grandma." He loved the Christmas village and returned to it again and again. He loved our large Magi on their magical camels, and he loooved the snow globes. Such admiration and excitement make hours of decorating well worth the time spent.

I understand that many people are cutting back on all the Christmas hoopla, and I can understand why. In this day and age of hurry, hurry, hurry, the decorating, cards, candy making, and gift giving/making are time consuming and expensive. When I went into the post office with my big pile of Christmas cards, a stranger came up to me, turned up her nose as I shoveled cards in the slot, and said, "I don't do that stuff any more. Too expensive." I suppose it is too expensive, but good memories and good friends aren't. Most of the cards I send are my only link to some relatives and some friends from long ago. I cherish the time that I spent, however brief, to write them a small note of remembrance. To remember that, at some point in our lives, we nurtured a true friendship which has mellowed and fine tuned itself over many years. I don't see many of them as they probably look now, but as they looked when we were together. One letter I received was from the wife of the bishop of our church when I was a young girl. She has to be in her late eighties by now. Whenever I picture her, she is a young woman with long blonde hair who, in my mind, was the epitome of style and grace when I was growing up. I thought of her as the most elegant woman I had ever known. I often remember that she and another lady, Ida Mae Romm, were our youth advisors and would often chaperone us at church dances. Their modus operandi, because boys weren't not allowed to turn down a request for a dance, was to ask a boy to dance, dance with him for a few minutes, and then say, "Oh, I have a sweet young girl I'd like you to meet," and steer him our way--much to our total embarrassment!! Today this lady described her experiences in warding off the loneliness of being a widow after over 50 years of marriage by telling of sitting in her rocking chair and singing all the hymns in the hymnal at the top of her lungs!! Such a memory and picture cannot be dismissed by ignoring Christmas because it's too expensive!!

The other picture is of Tom's father, Tom. (Notice how trendy he was with his tattoos--a decision he regretted later in life when the tattoos became faded and wrinkly, and he felt unsightly.) Grandma Kennedy often compares Grandpa to our brother/son, Tommy, men with a wandering heart and soul. Both Steve and Tom have talked this season about their roots--who they are and what is their heritage. Are we Kennedys Irish? The answer is No, not really. Although all Kennedy family records say that Donald Kennedy, Dad's great-grandfather, was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, I have not yet located the marriage or birth records to verify that information which was found on his death certificate. The Irish in us came from Grandma Whitby's side of the family, through her mother, whose maiden name was Cocheran. I've decided to use this blog, at times to tell you of our ancestry--both Kennedy and Whitby, and so I've posted Grandpa Kennedy's picture and include a small biography written by Grandma Kennedy some years ago:
Personal Writing of Margaret Bailey Kennedy:
Tom was probably best known during his early years for his ability to get into and out of a flight without injuring himself or anyone else--fatally that is. He didn't believe in holding a job or staying in one place long enough to get bored with either.
He married Peggy (Margaret Olive) Bailey during the Depression in 1932. They became the parents of three children: Elizabeth Maxine (Betty), Douglas Allen, and Thomas Gene. The next twenty years were spent shuttling between the mines in Butte, Montana and the machine shops in Keyport, Washington.
Tom suffered a fractured spine in the mines in 1950 and after his release from medical care the family left Butte permanently to make their home in Poulsbo and later in Seattle. Tom went into partnership with Bill in a West Seattle tavern. Later, Tom bought Bill out, taking a former bar maid, Phillis, as her partner. For the first time in his working career, Tom had work which he really enjoyed and an outlet for his particular talents and personality.
In 1968 he sold the tavern and he and Peggy bought a home in Bremerton where he died September, 1972.

None of you remember this fine man, but I do. My most favorite experience with Grandpa was during my courtship days. I had gone to visit Grandpa and Grandma in their little "doll" house which had a white picket fence lining the driveway. When I was ready to leave, I realized that I was totally broke and didn't have the 10 cent fare to get across the toll bridge to West Bremerton. I didn't know Grandpa well, but I asked him for the fare, which he produced with a smile. Then, being the spatial klutz that I am, I backed out of the driveway, taking the entire picket fence with me. I was so embarrassed and tearful, of course. He gathered up the fence with a big smile and cheerfully sent me on my way, telling me not to worry!! Several years later, I found out that he had spent that entire morning restoring the picket fence to its original position because Aunt Marian had taken out the fence only hours before me!! Need I say how much I loved him for that??!!

Well, my bags are packed. Susan and I are on our way; both Dad and Eric are biting their nails--can we really get along without them?? Of course we can!! Cheers, Mom

FELLOWSHIP OF THE UNASHAMED

I have been sputtering and spewing for some time now about the press the Mormons have been getting due to the candidacy of Mitt Romney. Although President Hinckley has assured us that unpopular publicity will never hurt the Church and "good may come from it," I have been particularly hurt by the unfounded charge that Mormons are not Christian. This accusation has affected me profoundly. I have, in all my life as a Mormon, worshipped Christ and God the Father. I've tried to pattern my life after the teachings of Jesus Christ; I've knelt in fervent prayer and found answers to my prayers to the Father in the name of Christ. All of my most profound actions and decisions have been measured by the age-old question: What would Christ have me do? So, to me, it's seemed most un-Christian for so-called Christians to make such accusations concerning a Church and teachings they know so little about.
My husband has taught me that the charges of Christians has come to Mormons not because we are necessarily un-Christian in our attitudes and actions, but because we do not believe in the fundamental conclusions drawn about the Godhead by the Nicean Creed which is the generally accepted standard of all other Christian religions. Our job should be to teach others about the logic of our position on the Godhead. Most of the enemies of the Church will not be persuaded because they will always hate Joseph Smith's audacity at claiming that he had seen a vision of God the Father and his Son. However, most Christians, I think, would begin to understand our beliefs and, at least, tolerate them if we did more teaching of our beliefs. Therefore, I have accepted this pledge given by President Henry B. Eyring. I am not positive if this pledge is President Eyring's original work, or he is quoting another source, but it applies to all who are Christians!!

Fellowship of the Unashamed by Elder Henry B Eyring.

I am part of the Fellowship of the Unashamed. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I won’t look back, let up, slow down, or be still. My past is redeemed; my present makes sense, and my future is secure. I’m finished and done with low living, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap giving and dwarfed goals. I no longer need pre-eminence, position, promotions, plaudits or popularity. I don’t have to be right, first, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean on His presence, walk with patience, and am uplifted by prayer and labor with power. My face is set; my gait is fast; my goal is heaven. My road is narrow; my way is rough; my companions are few; my guide is reliable; my mission is clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, divided or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the adversary, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity or meander in the maze of mediocrity. I won’t give up, shut up, or let up, until I have stayed up, stored up, and paid up for the cause of Christ. I must go till He comes, give until I drop, preach until all know, and work till He stops me. And when He returns for his own, He will have no problem recognizing me. My Banner will be clear.
Cheers, Mom

OF PRESENTS, BANNERS, AND TECHNO

I wonder what I'm going to write my blogs about once Christmas is over!! Life has been busy and filled with reminiscing and renewing.

Christmas preparation has now moved into the decorating phase. Remember all those bins on the back porch?? Now they're in the living room and family room, waiting to be emptied. As I opened one bin, which has been outside and sealed up since June, a little moth flew into my face. I'll bet he was glad to get out of that little coffin. We were a little Ho-hum about the decorations, thinking that no one would see them but us, but we now have a little blonde-headed visitor, Kobe, coming tomorrow night, so it seemed imperative to get, at least, the village set up. I've created one new decoration to fill an empty corner in the living room, as you can see by the picture--three banners to hang in the corner. We'll see. If the project to hang them from the ceiling, in the corner, goes as some have recently, we may have some fun!!

Can you believe how techno Dad has become?? He's using the computer, talking on the phone, and he's discussing his online BillPlayer account! Dad says I'm taking far too many pictures of him for these blogs, but doesn't he look great?? How can I resist? Speaking of techno, our bridge transponder has become quite the source of gritted teeth. The transponder is a sticker with a bar code on it which is read by a machine which then orders the barrier to come up. We have two vehicles, and I was the one who made the maiden voyage through the Breezeby. We were told to practice with the sticker before sticking it to your windshield, so I drove to the barrier with sticker in hand, and my mouth open to start my explanation. To my total astonishment, the barrier went up, and there was no one in the booth to give my explanation. I felt a little guilty, thinking I was getting through without paying, when Dad explained that the machine had read my transponder in my hand. Okay, so I should tape--at least smart enough not to stick--the transponder on the left side of the windshield in the corner. Nope, didn't work. "Supposed to be under your rearview mirror" from Bridge Guy. Stick it under my rearview mirror--Nope, doesn't work. "Ma'm, it has to be below that little black grid under your rearview mirror!" FINALLY!

Our classes for the semester end tonight. In the class picture, the girl on the far left, Alisi, enters the MTC on January 17 for her mission to Argentina. The girl on the right with the logo on her sweatshirt turns in her paper for a mission on Sunday. The Oriental girl on the left side of the picture was baptised on Saturday. They're such a fun group. It's always fun. The re-headed young man on right is a recovering alcoholic/addict who has also recovered his deep, deep spiritually and is a wonderful contributor to class discussions.

On a final note...yesterday, I received one of those presents which take your breath away and remind you how much you are loved. One gift had already come, Steve and Kobe will be coming for a visit tomorrow to spend a few days with us. Then, Susan called. She wanted to discuss my Christmas gift--would I join Susan and little Heather in attending a performance of "The Nutcracker in Mesa on the 15th? Now, you must understand that many years ago, I took Susan to the "Nutcracker" for her birthday, and we've attended several performances over the years. But...money's tight for us right now, no way could I afford a ticket. No...no...no. I didn't understand. Eric had thought about getting Susan an expensive piece of jewelry for her birthday but thought she would enjoy more coming to visit Mom and Dad all by herself and to bring Mom back to Mesa for a few days. (Dad could come too, but we all know how he feels about girlie stuff.) All of this would by Eric's generosity and careful budgeting. Then, later the same day, Darla and I had been manuvering and finagling to see if there was any way we could get cheap plane tickets, so they could come for Christmas. It was a tearful process, since we're both broke...no way. Vale and Darla have never spent a Christmas at home alone, but there seemed no way to work a trip in and pay for all of the car repairs our Altima needs. To the rescue comes Herb, Darla's boyfriend. He's a man who's devoted and caring to his mother, and he insisted that Darla make her reservations, and she'll find the tickets in her stocking!! President Eyring in his Theory of Gift Giving and Gift Receiving states: Well, there it is--a simple theory. When you're on the receiving end, you will discover three things in great gift givers: (1) they felt what you felt and were touched, (2) they gave freely, and (3) they counted sacrifice a bargain." Aren't Steve, Eric, and Herb great gift-givers? Hopefully, their acts will be an inspiration for me. Cheers, Mom

Phase Two of our madness has begun! Only two packages remain to be sent. One will be mailed tomorrow, and the other hand-delivered. Never, never, never can I remember having gifts completed so early in the game!! There is such deep satisfaction in giving gifts because sometimes one feels so inadequate to think of ways to tell another, in a tangible way, that you love them. Of late, I have lots of time to think about the gift I'm going to give, and I remember my mother. We've all listed, as our fondest Christmas memories, Grandma Whitby's gifts. She, who had a Social Security check budget to live on, always bought from the "Big Store"(Goodwill) or sewed with her own hands a gift for each child and grandchild. We laughed sometimes at her gifts with the strong odor of cigarette smoke still clinging to them:garish, outlandish, out-of-style ties for the boys for church, dresses too small or old-fashioned, stuffed animals made of strange patterns or garish materials; others we cherish--comfy pjs and quilts we still wrap up in in her memory. Especially, we knew that she spent every dime she could possibly spare to tell us, in a tangible way, I'm thinking of you and love you. Would that I have emulated her in this way.
We're now in decorating mode, and we're doing our decorating in a snowstorm. Because my Christmas gifts are done, I haven't a sewing project--Heaven forbid that I should go even one second without a sewing project, so I'm making Crazy Quilt patchwork blocks (bottom, right-hand corner) for Christmas pillows. The goal is to use up every bit of leftover Christmas material I have in my quilters stash. Dad struggled yesterday with setting up Christmas trees and finishing up my village structure. Of course, I worked upstairs and Dad worked downstairs, so we often met, one at the bottom of the stairs and the other at the top, to talk and clarify what we'd been trying to shout to one another. Old age certainly ain't for sissies.
We've had two back-to-back snowstorms. When the second storm roared in on the tail of the first, we hunkered down. We had to cancel one class because there was freezing rain predicted for the Gorge. The prediction didn't materialize, so we could have made it for class, but we weren't willing to take the risk. Next week is the last week of our classes, so we're having parties in each class. I decided to look for some recipes for homemade candy that Grandma Whitby had, and, as I opened her old recipe box, the smell of cigarette smoke still lingering on the old, yellow index cards reminded me that Christmas always spells LOVE.
The transponder I wrote about so enthusiastically in my last blog?? It's a sticker to be glued to the windshield to be scanned by one of the toll taker. My kind of electronics. Stay warm. Love, Mom