In Honor of Dad on Veterans Day

Each year on Veterans Day, this is the mental picture I see of my Dad.

Dad sent each of us a copy of this signed photograph of him in uniform when I was in grade school.

I carried this photo with me throughout my school years. A framed copy has been on my bookshelf for many years.

Dad has been retired from the Army for a long time after serving his country honorably during World War II, Korea and Vietnam. Dad served both stateside and in war zones around the world.

Dad enlisted in the Army as a young man. Like many young men of his era, Dad wanted to enlist immediately when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.

His Dad, a World War I veteran, wouldn't let him drop out of school to join when we entered World War II.

Instead, he continued in college for a while before he enlisted in the Army. Another favorite photo I have of Dad is one when he was just entering military life.

Little did Dad know when this photo was taken that he would spend nearly 30 years of his life serving his country in the Army.

According to my Mom, Dad told her he would serve a year or two.

When she asked him much later whatever happened to serving a year or two, his response was that the Army was the only life he knew.

The Army was all we knew too. Our family lived on military bases in Kentucky, Kansas, California and Alabama.

We lived in France twice, once before I was born and once after. Each trip to France, a new son was born to my parents.

My brothers Bob and Pat were both born in France, about seven years apart. The rest of us were all born on military bases across the country.

We lived in Wisconsin during one of Dad's deployments to be closer to Mom's parents and relatives. I don't remember much from that time, but I'm sure it made Dad's absence much easier for Mom.

People sometimes ask what it was like growing up as an Army brat. If you weren't there, it's hard to describe.

We moved every few years, like most military families. We didn't know any different and all of our friends were in the same boat.

We made new friends wherever we went and sadly bid them farewell as our dads went off to a new adventure.

Military brats are taught from an early age to have a sense of pride in America that you don't see much anymore.

We were also proud of our Dad, but didn't really understand a lot about his work. We knew that he was gone a lot. Sometimes he was just at work, but other times he was around the world.

Once in a while, we got to talk to Dad on the phone. I remember that we had to say, "Over" each time we were done saying something to him.

We wrote letters to share our lives with Dad when he was deployed and he wrote back about his life. He kept his letters fairly brief and the tone light.

I still have every letter and postcard Dad sent me while he was gone. I also still have the sense of pride in America that Dad's service instilled in me.

Thanks for your service, Dad! You'll never know how much your life in the Army affected all of us in ways seen and unseen.

I'm a proud Army brat who will always be proud of my Dad and the country he served.

Veterans Day is about honoring all who served our country, in times of war and peace.

From the oldest veterans to those currently serving in countries far from home, I salute you.

Your service to America secures the blessings of liberty for all of us. May your love of country live in the hearts and souls of all Americans today and every day.

Life Rocked When I was Little

As I logged onto Twitter tonight, listed among the trending phrases was #WhenIWasLittle.

As I read through what others had written, it became clear that many of the Twitterers are much younger than me.

It was also clear that their childhoods filled with Sesame Street, Power Rangers and Nichelodeon may have been wonderful, but they didn't rock.

When I was little, life rocked. I had my black-nosed doggy and I felt that I was invincible.

Black-nosed doggy accompanied me on all of my adventures and so did my little brother Mike.

We had a black and white TV where my favorite dog Lassie appeared. Lassie.net and other media sources say that Timmy came onto the Lassie show in 1957, the year I was born.

Many people don't know that Lassie was actually a series of male dogs.

I found many photos of Lassie on a Google search, but none was exactly right.

The photo that I most remember of Lassie was at the end of each show when Lassie waved good-bye with her paw.

I would stand at the TV, shaking paws with Lassie and crying like crazy because 'my' dog was going away.

I found a couple of photos of Lassie with her paw up to shake, but they were in color, something our TV didn't have back in the day.

We didn't have pets in our family. Dad was in the Army, we moved a lot and I don't think Mom had the desire to care for pets. Lassie was my first dog, followed by Rin-Tin-Tin.

Like Lassie, I was afraid of nothing - well, not counting the dark.

Before there was such a thing as ziplines, we were the cool kids AKA Junior Paratroopers as we zipped down this line.

We rode our bikes with no hands, build forts in the woods, climbed way up high in trees, all without adult supervision.

Cool kids grow up to be cool 'tweens and teens and I was no exception - or so I thought. My little sister thought that I was the most awesome of all.

It may seem amazing to today's youth and teens that our lives were so filled with adventure.

We didn't have computers, video games or many of the other toys that kids enjoy now.

The great outdoors was our playground. We could be found hanging out in the backyard, playing football in the street or playing freeze tag or Ghosts in the Graveyard after dark in our neighborhood.

It didn't take much to make us happy and we didn't expect someone else to be responsible for making us happy.

We made our own fun and had a blast living life to the fullest. Life rocked when I was little. Come to think of it, life still rocks. Although I'm not a kid anymore, I'm still a kid at heart and always will be.

When I see a giant boulder or a perfect climbing tree, I feel the need to climb it and see how high up I can be. Being king of the world wasn't just for the long ago me.

Adventure is still the name of the game for the me of today.

Life still rocks and I love living it to the fullest and making memories wherever I go and whatever I do.

Until the next memory is made, I'll take what I can get when I can get it and do the best I can to face each day with a smile on my face, a prayer on my lips and a song in my heart.

Blogging Grandma Sandy, signing off for now.

Halloween Memories Through the Years

I have always loved holidays. Although my favorite is Christmas, Halloween is filled with many happy memories for me too.

In this photo, I spent hours creating my own Halloween bag, designed like a Coors beer can to complete my bum costume.

My younger siblings were wearing the best of Halloween costumes from back in the day, including Nancy in the gorilla costume we all wore that featured a moving mouth for easier eating of Halloween candy.

The only bad Halloween memory I have is the year my brother Mike was sick. My youngest brother Pat and I carried three bags with us to bring home candy for Mike. Instead, we were jumped by a group of boys and young men, who took our candy and our pride, leaving the clown costume my Mom had made for me that year dotted with my blood from a minor wound suffered when I didn't want to give up the candy.

The fun didn't end when I grew up. One of the best things about being a parent is reliving your childhood as you share in your kids' fun.

I always dressed up when the kids were younger and still do most of the time.

Whether handing out candy, helping with parties in their classes or trick-or-treating in the neighborhood, I was usually spotted in a witch's costume with some sort of spooky mask.

Jenny the clown was carrying a Care Bear I made for her in this photo, taken when I was a mother with only one child.

Carving pumpkins was part of the fun when the kids were younger too.

Before the days of pumpkin patches and corn mazes, pumpkins were carved at home. Usually we carved pumpkins a day or two before Halloween.

 
I made a lot of the kids' costumes when they were little, including Jack's first clown costume, which he wore trick-or-treating when he was just two weeks old.

We decorated our yard each year, a tradition that continues to this day.

Although my yard decor isn't quite as elaborate as it was when the kids were young, it's still fun to put out all of the Halloween decorations.

As a grandparent, it's been fun to have the grandkids help me decorate the yard for Halloween.

We usually have a Halloween party with lots of fun and spooky foods for all.

Trick-or-treat was the best part of Halloween for me when I was a kid.

Going from house to house and begging for candy - what could be better than that?!?!

When we lived at Ft. Leavenworth, there were a couple of houses where we had to do tricks to get our treats.

Cartwheels were always my trick of choice when I was called upon to perform for my candy.

Boys are different from girls when it comes to Halloween costumes.

My daughters usually wanted cute costumes with princesses, unicorns and other fun characters, although some years there were witch and ghoul costumes too.

My son and his friends always chose spooky costumes. At Sandusky Elementary School, one of the best parts of Halloween was the costume parade on the middle school track.

I've enjoyed reliving Halloween memories as I've enjoyed trick-or-treating and Halloween parties with my grandchildren through the years too.

Halloween is a great time to make family memories. Make some memories with your family this year for Halloween.

Until the next memory is made, I'll take what I can get when I can get it and do the best I can to face each day with a smile on my face, a prayer on my lips and a song in my heart.

Blogging Grandma Sandy, signing off for now.

Live Like You Are Dying

American country music singer Tim McCraw released the song, "Live Like You Were Dying" in June 2004. The song rose rapidly to the top spot on the country music charts.

The song tells the story of a man who is in his early 40s when his father is diagnosed with a life-threatening illness.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, the son takes away the message to live his life like he was dying, doing all of the things he wants to do like skydiving and mountain climbing.

Like the man in the song, McCraw's dad was given a short time to live after being diagnosed with a brain tumor. Tug McCraw died in January 2004, after being diagnosed in March 2003.

Not many of us live our lives like we are dying. Instead, we slog through our daily lives, marking the passing minutes, hours, days and years as we wait for moments in time including: the weekend, vacation, the holidays, the kids getting married, the house being paid off and retirement.

I tell people that I was blessed to grow up in a family where nobody died. I wasn't exposed to death much during my childhood.

My grandparents all lived long lives. I don't remember anyone on either of my parents' sides of the family dying until I was an adult.

As an adult, I've struggled with the concept of death, especially sudden death. Although I truly believe that eternal life with God awaits those who die, death is so final and cruel.

I've lost numerous friends and relatives to death as an adult. The pain of each loss was different, but each of the deaths left behind family members and friends struggling with their loss.

Over the past decade, several friends of my children have died, including best friends of my son and my younger daughter.

My son's best friend died instantly in a car accident in March 2007. My younger daughter's best friend died in January 2009, just a few months after being diagnosed with cancer.

Since then, we have known several other young people who have died unexpectedly. This week, a wonderful, kind, talented and loving young man we've known for years died suddenly, leaving grieving family and friends to struggle with his loss.

The grief that accompanies death is always difficult, but somehow it seems worse when the person who dies is young.

Nearly all of the young people I've known who have died enjoyed many great experiences in their short lives. However, the unfairness of death still looms larger than life.

Parents aren't supposed to outlive their children. It goes against the unwritten rules of the universe and against our view of how life should operate.

Sometimes the death of a young person leaves family members and friends angry with a God who they feel cheated them out of a future with their loved one.

When a young person dies with much of their life left unlived, their goals unaccomplished, and their dreams unfulfilled, it seems unfair to most of us.

Maybe some of the unfairness we feel is based on our own unfulfilled dreams, goals we haven't accomplished, relationships that haven't worked out in our own lives.

The closing hymn at the memorial service Saturday was one of my favorites, a hymn I chose years ago to be used at my own funeral: "On Eagles Wings."

"And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His hand." 

Like the lyrics of "Live Like You Were Dying," the lyrics of "On Eagles Wings" imparts a message about death. Although the messages are different, they are still similar.

One of the reasons I love this hymn is that it seems to be about triumph over death. But isn't living your life like you are dying also a triumph over death?

Mark Twain wrote, "The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."

Maybe the answer to putting the fear of death behind is simple: to live like you are dying. Instead of marking time, embrace life and make memories along the journey.

Until the next memory is made, I'll take what I can get when I can get it and do the best I can to face each day with a smile on my face, a prayer on my lips and a song in my heart.

Writers and Runners: Because It's What We Do

On a dreary, rainy Saturday morning in Central Virginia, there are runners out doing what they do best.

Although it was sunny and clear for this year's Virginia 10 Miler, that's not always the case.

Runners run because it's what they do. Whether it's sunny or stormy, they lace up their running shoes and hit the road or trail.

Long runs mark their days off and rising with the roosters to get in an early morning run before work is the norm.

Writers are a lot like runners. Writers write because they have a story to tell, information to share and something to say. In short, we write because it's what we do.

Most of us follow the news closely and keep up with local activities and events.

Many of us work in cluttered areas with little scraps of paper floating around on the table and ideas for the next article floating around in our heads.

We are an inquisitive bunch, always asking questions about new things.

Most writers I know love to learn about stuff. Maybe that's one of the reasons they became writers.

I caught the writing bug in high school, thanks to a wonderful teacher who was known to us by her nickname, Pic.

Pic taught creative writing and challenged us to write every day. Although I got away from writing on a daily basis as an adult, I retained the writer's spirit.

Little did I know then that writing would become my hobby again later in life. Putting feelings and words down on paper is an honor.

This is a shout-out to all of the writers out there: the well-known and those whose writing is known only to themselves.

Keep up the writing and challenge yourself to succeed in your goals, just as runners do every day.

Blogging Grandma Sandy, signing off for now.

Field Tripping with the Next Generation

When my kids were growing up, one of the benefits of working night shift was my ability to participate in many school activities.

Among my favorites were school field trips. From the time my oldest child was in preschool until my youngest child graduated from high school, I was happy to serve as a chaperone for many field trips.

This past week, I was delighted when my schedule worked perfectly to accompany my daughter and my youngest grandchild on a preschool field trip to Johnson's Orchards.

Also known as "the apple porchard" by my granddaughter, Johnson's Orchards is a favorite school field trip destination.

On the day we went to Johnson's, there were quite a few field trip groups also touring the grounds.

Not much has changed about school field trips in a generation. The parents and grandparents are still more interested in what the guides have to say than the kids.

It's still impossible to get a group of kids to all smile or even all look the same direction at the same time for a group photo.

The kids still find excitement in things that aren't part of the field trip. At Johnson's Orchards, the little train next to the Johnny Appleseed statue was the first thing that drew the kids' attention.

Kids still hear what some, but not all, of what is said during the talking portions of the field trip. A comment about painting with apples is what drew my granddaughter's attention the most during part of the field trip.

She asked numerous questions about painting with apples in a very excited voice as the tour guide tried to get kids to talk about what you could do with apples.

Like her mom before her, my granddaughter loved the farm animals. Some day, she may report that the animals were the best part of the trip to the apple orchard.

There's nothing like being a grandparent to take you back in time to the days when your kids were younger. I could almost hear the excited chatter of my own kids in the background as I listened to the group of preschoolers.

Field tripping with the next generation may even be more fun. Unlike some school field trips in my past, I wasn't assigned to the unruly group.

Fun memories are always waiting to be made in the land of grandparenting. The joy of being a grandparent is an adventure I don't want to miss.

Until the next memory is made, I'll take what I can get when I can get it and do the best I can to face each day with a smile on my face, a prayer on my lips and a song in my heart.

Blogging Grandma Sandy, signing off for now.

Just Call Me the Runner Wannabe - For Now

When you grow up sandwiched between brothers, it's best to just be a tomboy. One thing's for sure; it worked for me!

Running and jumping, climbing trees, riding bikes with no hands and spending days in the woods were what my life was about when I was a kid.

I found trouble and I made trouble if there wasn't any to find, but it was all good fun - well, mostly good.

I don't remember this photo being taken, but it's clear that either three of us were thinking about a way to get all four of us into trouble or we were already in trouble.

Despite my lack of girly girl skills, my younger sister was quite a girly girl. But she still thought I was funny when I did silly tomboy stuff like ride a bike no hands or hang upside down from the clothes pole.

Not much changed as I grew older. I wore skirts and dresses to school because it was required. I wore makeup in high school because I thought it made me look oh so cool.

I was never a girly girl except maybe for a while in my teens. I wasn't a girly Mom and I'm not a girly Grandma either.

Despite all of my tomboy ways, I never played team sports. There weren't many of them back then and I wasn't terribly coordinated. But I played a ton of backyard sports.

As a Mom, I did a lot of Dad things for several reasons. I enjoyed being outdoors and playing ball. My kids' Dad worked in the evenings and he really wasn't much into sports anyway.

Some would say I lived vicariously through my kids, but I'd have to disagree. I was just there to help, however help was needed, but I will admit that I had a blast doing it all. Along the way I coached a lot of teams and learned some of the things I didn't know about sports from the other dads.

I never really thought about running or about becoming a runner. I'd watched my son competing in cross country when he was in high school. It looked like fun, but wasn't necessarily something I wanted to do.

When I began writing online content, my focus was on family topics. Then came the day when they were looking for writers to cover other topics. One of those was topics was local outdoor recreation.

The tomboy in me jumped at the chance to write about outdoors stuff. At the time the assignment started, it was running season. What I didn't realize then is that it's always running season!

It didn't take long for me to get bitten by the running bug. I was immediately drawn to the camaraderie I saw within the Lynchburg running community.

More than that, I got drawn into the excitement the runners felt as they competed and finished the course. I walked my first 5K to support a friend.

A few weeks later, I covered my first Virginia 10 Miler as a writer. I made a promise to myself that I would be running in the next year's 5K and hopefully the 10 Miler.

As I do with most things, I jumped in with both feet. Like many new runners, I didn't spend enough time learning the basics and warming up.

Hello, plantar fasciitis! Did you know that if you Google "plantar fasciitis" you come up with 5,555,000 results in 20 seconds? It's true!

Sidelined, I worked on getting my bad foot better. Therapy and exercises helped and eventually I got back to brisk walking. I walked multiple 5Ks and hoped to notch it up a bit.

Then, BAM! I got hurt at work, straining my back in a nanosecond while doing nothing wrong. A very painful week off from work and multiple doctor visits followed.

My back isn't as bad as it was in July, but it's sure not where it was before the injury or where it needs to be. So people were quite surprised when I joined the local running club AND signed up for the Turkey Trot.

A girl's gotta have a dream, even if she's not a girly girl. This blogging Grandma's dream is that I will get better and I will eventually run.

But I'm definitely not planning on the running thing happening any time soon. I am hoping to walk the Turkey Trot, just as I did last year, assuming the doctor says it's okay.

Walking is not on the verboten list, at least not at this moment. As for joining the running club, it makes me feel less like a moocher when I attend events and meetings.

I'm glad to be part of such a great group of people. So, yes, that's me posing with those runners on a recent early morning in front of Riverside Runners, my favorite running store.

Included in the photo are two world-famous runners, Kathrine Switzer and Roger Robinson, who I met on the morning of the photo.

As they all jogged off down the Avenue, I got into my car and drove to work. I'm no fool and my back's not healed enough to run, not even at a slow jogging pace.

But stay tuned, the story's not over yet. Time heals all wounds, or so they say.

For now, I'll have to live vicariously, writing about the mudders and 5Ks, half marathons and fulls, triathlons and fun runs that other people are running.

But one of these days, when my back's all better, you may see my smiling face in the middle of a pack of runners on the way to the finish line.

Until then I'll take what I can get when I can get it and do the best I can to face each day with a smile on my face, a prayer on my lips and a song in my heart.

Blogging Grandma Sandy, signing off for now.