I found out this morning that a very dear neighbor and friend had passed away this week. My heart just hurts thinking that I will never again sit with her in person and share news of the neighborhood and our families. I will never again hear her generous compliments, her wise insights, her unfailingly positive voice. I will, of course, have talks with her and hear her voice - but only in my head - in my memories. She will now be in that part of my life that holds memories of my grandparents - rich, full memories - but not nearly as wonderful as all those in-person chats - not nearly as comforting as warm hugs.
When we moved to this street in 1975, Babe's mother lived at the end of the street. Grace was an old woman at the time - at least to my 25 years. I liked her because you always knew where you stood with her. If she wasn't pleased, she told you - likewise, she never hesitated to pass on a compliment. She had the most incredible gardens. They reminded me of my grandmothers' gardens. In the early 80's - shortly after we moved into this house on the lake, Grace passed on and Babe and her husband, Glenn, moved into her house. Babe immediately became a favorite neighbor. She was an excellent role model for aging gracefully. I don't think I have ever met anyone as genuinely positive and appreciative of those around her.
Babe had back problems and let a lot of the gardens go back to lawn. In the process, she shared countless plants with neighbors and friends. I remember talking to her one year shortly before my birthday. I mentioned that I loved Siberian squill or scilla. On the morning of my birthday, she came down the street with a small bucket full of scilla and other treasures from her garden! She never failed to mention how much she loved my gardens - or to tell me what a wonderful man I'm married to - or what wonderful young men I've raised. I am going to miss her terribly.
This morning our son came out to visit - and do a couple loads of laundry. We were talking and I mentioned that I had seen Babe recently at the nursing home, and that she had said how much she had enjoyed seeing him a couple years ago. Our son said why don't we go down and visit her this morning? We decided to wait an hour so she would be up and ready for the day. A half hour before we were going to head out the door, Babe's son called and gave me the news. I was so glad that we had been thinking of her before John called - it actually helped soften the blow.
Next spring, when the ground has thawed and plants have sprung back to life, I will walk down to her yard and ask her son if I can dig up a few things from her gardens. John will say of course - Mom would want you to have some plants to remember her by. I won't need plants to remember Babe - but I will treasure having a small part of her in my gardens.
I've been going through old photos and scanning some of them into the computer. I came across these two the other day and thought you would get a laugh out of them. Being a farm girl, I was in 4-H growing up. I learned to make bread the old-fashioned way - lots of hand mixing and kneading. I truly like the new wet dough way better! This was a bread-making workshop during the summer before my 8th grade year (if memory serves me right). Our loaves look kind of puny - but I remember that they smelled heavenly. Oh - I'm the cute one in the center - LOL!!
When I was nine years old, my mom wanted me to take music lessons. Our house was quite small at the time, and there wasn't really room for a piano. So I started taking accordion lessons. I want you to know right up front that I usually do not share this info until I have known someone a very loooooong time. It's not that I'm ashamed or embarrassed...well, okay, maybe a little embarrassed. I recently told Nadine, my French teacher, and she thinks I should buy another accordion and start playing again. Evidently accordion music is much more hip in France than in my little corner of the world. Here was my reality: my grandparents loved Lawrence Welk, and any time we stayed at their house, we watched the show. As some of you may remember, Myron Floran played the accordion on the Lawrence Welk show. He was a wonderful and very talented accordionist (??), but he was not exactly idol material in my book. So, while I played very well actually, I have not willingly shared this info with very many people. (My favorite performers on the Lawrence Welk show were the Lennon Sisters - I even had their papers dolls - a high compliment indeed!!)
My accordion had a candy-apple red metallic finish and my name was on the front - in diamonds! (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) As I said earlier, I actually played quite well and took lessons for 3 or 4 years. When I was in high school, I played the French horn in band. And several years ago, my mom gave me (she says loaned) her piano, and I play that reasonably well - for someone who has never taken piano lessons. So even though it feels totally dorky to tell someone I played the accordion, I think the lessons paid off in the long run. Thanks Mom & Dad!!!