Pocket surprise

My Grandma used to tell us that when you put away your winter coat for the season, you should always slip a bit of money in the pocket.  That way, when you take it out the next year, you have a little surprise windfall!

Now of course, Grandma lived through the depression, so she stashed money away.  Case in point, we have my grandparents old bedroom set up in our guest room and years ago when I pulled up the really thick, old-school, plastic drawer liner, I found money there, too.  Not a "windfall" per se, but $5 under a couple pieces of drawer liner, several crisp singles under another.  It made me smile when I found it, not only because I could imagine her putting it there "for a rainy day," but because it made me think of the brand new $1 bills that used to arrive in Valentine and birthday cards she would send us.

Besides, just as Grandma pointed out with putting money in your coat pocket, it's a nice surprise.

Which leads me to two emails I got over the weekend.  They were from a bank that we used to have our accounts at before we refinanced our mortgage 2 years ago.  When we did, we moved all our accounts to that bank, because quite frankly the service at our old bank was lacking to say the least and it seemed like a good time to do it.  I remember that I dragged the process out over several months because it's such a pain changing everything over with bill-pay.   Anyway, the emails included links to check the year end balance of two different accounts at the old bank.

What?  We had four accounts with the bank: checking, savings and a savings account for each of the kids.   We had closed all of them.

Didn't we?

Having just got through a round of credit card fraud issues around Christmas (Ugh!!!), I was very suspicious.  I went to the bank website and of course couldn't log in, because I had no earthly idea what the login was.  So today I went to the bank branch we used to use and lo and behold, it seems we did not close Matt & Gracie's savings accounts two years ago.   For the life of me, I can't figure out why.  But since I can't remember what I did two days ago, it should come as no surprise that I don't know what I did two years ago.

I closed the accounts and walked out of the bank with two cashier checks for each of the kids.  And for me, I felt like my grandma reaching into the pocket of my coat and finding a $10 bill.

Welcome home!

It's official . . . my mom and dad are residents of Tennessee!

They closed on their Illinois house yesterday morning.  Because of the ongoing crappy winter weather in the Midwest, they didn't arrive here until this morning where they were greeted with sunshine and temperatures in the 60s. 

Their stuff won't be delivered until Monday or Tuesday, so they are with us for the next few days, taking care of the myriad of errands that come with moving. 

I will miss going "home" to this wonderful house that I grew up in.  We moved in when I was a 2nd grader, just like Gracie is now, so it is full of memories. My sister and many friends are nearby, so I know I will see it again, but of course, it won't be the same just doing a drive by!

Where were you?

Shortly after 9-11, Alan Jackson wrote a beautiful song called, "Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning?'  Whether you are a fan of country music or not, most will agree that Alan has a way with words.   It seems there is something in the lyrics for everyone.   Something that takes you back to "that September day" and where you were.   

I read that he originally had not planned on recording the song, but after performing it at the CMA Awards in November 2011, the live version was released, topping the country charts and breaking in to the Top 40 charts as well. 

It seems no matter what your preferences are, we can all be drawn together by music.

By pure chance, this same song popped on my iPod today on shuffle.  The hairs on my arm stood up as I listened to the words, remembering where I was 12 years ago.  I was working at the University of South Carolina Aiken as the Director of Housing and Judicial Affairs.  My office did not have a TV or radio and the websites of CNN, USA Today and others were crashing with all the traffic.  Tiffany (my assistant) fielded calls from her husband who was watching things unfold on TV and gave us updates.  There were so many questions and no answers.  

I remember going to my friend Jennie's (the Assistant Director) on-campus apartment and watching the news for a half hour or so,  feeling sick to my stomach every time they replayed the horrible footage of the planes striking the World Trade Center.  When I returned, my co-workers asked what I found out, yet there was nothing to tell.  All I knew was that our world had changed.     

Afterwards, we began trying to identify those students from New York, New Jersey and Maryland who would be most likely to have a direct connection to what had happened.  In the middle of that, a huge file cabinet for my student judicial files (which had been on seemingly permanent backorder) suddenly arrived in the office.   Ordered 3 months ago and now it showed up? Why that day?

In the end, the next couple days spent mindlessly moving and organizing files was probably a blessing in disguise.  Focusing on "real work" was challenging at times. 

This is one of those defining moments of a generation.  Except in this case, it's for all generations.  Truth is, I also remember where was I was when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded (Miss Guy's reading class), when the hostages in Iran were released in 1981 (home sick from school, watching it on TV with my mom), when the Persian Gulf War officially began (sitting in the Youth Room at Gloria Dei), seeing the fall of the Berlin Wall (wondering why David Hasselhoff was there), when Lady Di wed Prince Charles wed (dragged out of bed by mom way too early in the morning to see it!) and during OJ Simpson's low-speed car chase (I fell asleep on my parent's couch waiting for him to get out of the car). 

Yet I don't simply remember 9-11.  Those feelings of anger and fear changed me and are part of who I am today.   For me, the footage is no easier to watch 12 years later than it was 12 days after it happened. 

And I think that is probably okay.  Because I never want to forget.  

Memories of Beth's dad . . .

My heart has been a bit heavy the last two days.   Yesterday morning, I learned that my dear friend, Beth, lost her father.     He had been diagnosed with Parkinson's over 20 years ago.  And although he had been in declining health recently, his death was unexpected and he died in his sleep.  

My heart aches for Beth and her family.   She has been part of a close circle of friends for 27 years.   Our families went to church together.   The  Hagens were even our "sponsor family" when we joined Gloria Dei, which was lots of fun for Beth and I, but maybe less so for my sister and her older brother, who despite being classmates, didn't quite have the same bond. 

Beth's mom is famous for making a zillion kinds of Christmas cookies every year.  And that number is only a slight exaggeration.  The woman bakes like nobody's business.    I can safely say I sampled each and every kind, too.

Every.  Year. 

Needless to say, it made visiting their house in December very enjoyable.  I can remember sitting at their kitchen table surrounded by tins and containers, talking and laughing with my friends.  And all of the sudden, this deep voice would say, "You know, you girls won't always be able to eat like this."  

And while he was right (unfortunately!), the memory even sweeter than those cookies is that Mr Hagen would join us in the kitchen as we binged on sweets, laugh at our silly banter, throw a few one-liners in himself and then would quietly slip away, undoubtedly to some peace and quiet elsewhere in the house!

I miss those days.   And I will miss Mr. Hagen.     

It's the first day of school!!!

Other than the day a child is born or your wedding (and maybe a particularly well-costumed Halloween), there aren't many days that garner as many photographs as the first day of school.  

So in celebration of that, I give you our first days of school!

Because when you're already bummed about how fast the summer zoomed by, the only thing that will make it worse better is too look at how the YEARS have zoomed by!

Tata

Yesterday Bassam's dear grandma, "Tata," passed away.

Our hearts are so heavy with sadness, but at the same time, we are glad she is out of pain and with the Lord.

Then Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest."
(Matthew 11:28)

A time to look forward, a time to look back. . . .

Just a couple short days left in December, which of course means a couple days left in the year.   It sounds cliche to say, but where did 2011 go?   I suppose this is one of those times I should be glad for this blog--because it reminds me what we were doing all year, at least for the things that I chose to write about.   Looking back, it seems strange that I can write a whole entry about Charlie's enlarged prostate, but have yet to find the words to write about the challenges and frustrations that surround Matthew's ADHD diagnosis this summer.  

Somehow lost teeth, soccer games, funny things my kids said, home improvement projects gone amok and a less-than-brilliant dog are just more fun to write about. 

On the whole 2011 was a good year.  We were blessed with good health (despite Matthew's finger incident in June and Gracie's surgery in November), steady employment and wonderful family and friends.   I'm not sure what 2012 will hold---but I'm looking forward to it and may even make a few new year's resolutions. 

Or maybe not.    I still have 2 days to figure it out, right? 

The kids helped me pick a few of their favorite pictures from each month of 2011 to put together this little video.   They've enjoyed watching and we hope you do, too!  Be sure to turn up your sound!




  

As the World Turns

Today I watched the very last episode of As the World Turns. It went off the air after 54 years. Quite amazing, when you think about it. I'm not a soap watcher, but have very fond memories watching ATWT with my Grandma and Grandpa when we would visit them. They loved "their story" and watched every day after lunch. Grandma and Grandpa have been gone for 16 years . . . . and watching today made me think of them. And smile.

In remembrance

Is it really possible that it has been 9 years since the attacks of 9/11? In some ways it feels like it hasn't been nearly that long. Or is that just a factor of getting older?

Of course, in the last 9 years we've moved, changed jobs and had 2 kids. In that regards it also seems like a lifetime ago.
We remember.