:Family Matters

September 27, 2009

As you know, not a great deal happens when living in a RH. Therefore the tiny things that do occur assume a much greater import than they would if MGH and I were still living in ‘the real world’. You know the place where most people are busily engaged in keeping the machinery working that allows we, who live in RH’s to enjoy the many things that lead to the comfort and security of our latterly years, Thank you very much. This was made painfully obvious to me last Wednesday when I went to have my teeth cleaned at the dentist. This is not something I enjoy and which I attend to with great reluctance. However, and for whatever reason behind this aversion I have recently, albeit reluctantly, resumed this pursuit once more after a hiatus of some dozen years. Obviously, not because it was something I believed strongly in doing but rather because the Medicare Advantage program we had signed up for promised to pay a very small portion of the expense which was all the encouragement I needed. That and my conscience which had been nagging me about my choice to ignore the condition of my chompers.

So there I was, having assumed the position that allowed the hygienist to have access to the inner workings of my mouth and she, feeling the need to entertain herself, or me, or both of us, much on the order of getting ones hair cut where the time can be pleasantly spent in conversation, began to ask me questions. Her first question was, had I done anything interesting during the summer to which I replied “unghuh” which was the best I could manage with my mouth wide open as she busily probed and poked at the contents therein. Much as a mother can understand the sounds her toddler is trying to form into words, what sounds like gibberish to everyone else she can interpret and respond to, so it is was with my hygienist. Having drawn a blank from her first salvo she quickly fired another with, “had I gone to any reunions?” Again a strangled sound emerged from my open orifice which then led her to asking if there had been a vacation in my summer past to which I replied with the response she was beginning to expect which led her to change the direction of her questioning to, “had I grown a garden?”

At last she hit pay dirt, here was something I could answer and as she had removed her fingers from my mouth I was able to answer her query with, “Yes, did you grow one?” I did not tell her that my garden consisted of three tomato plants I had carefully nurtured which netted me 5 cherry tomatoes and 3 small ‘Big Boys’ one of which the birds ate and the other two were still trying to fully ripen. My answer was enough to get a conversation, such as it was, going and so the remainder of the time passed most agreeably as she regaled me with how much canning she had been able to do with produce from her garden and how all her friends hated to see her coming because her garden’s largess had spilled over to benefit them to the point of satiation.

I have rehearsed the above to you, not because I think you are interested in my dental hygiene, but rather to show you how bleak some might find RH living to be. Please don’t waste anytime feeling sorry for MGH and me as we manage to find many pleasant things to fill our days—you just have to reach a certain age to fully enjoy these humble activities. I also feel the need to add that we did have Sylvia, Tom and Franklin spend several days with us. Grandsons Charlie and Bryan stopped in on their way to and from the blessing of little Lydianne in Arizona. Then there was another visit from Brett, recently returned home from his mission in Malaysia who was headed to Santa Clara to have his eyes checked by his Uncle Kyle. Bryan hitched a ride with him and stayed several days to help his grandpa get organized which was greatly appreciated. As for reunion’s we drove to Murray for a get-together of MGH’s Missionary Chorus whose friendship with these good men dates back to their growing up years in Draper which makes it close to 80 years for some of them. There was also a mini reunion of 3 Gano Sisters held for 4 hours at the Garden of Eatin’ in Fillmore, Utah. Not forgetting, as well visits from Sherman and Vicky and their two darling little girls. So, all in all, I would have to say our summer wasn’t completely devoid of AOONFARH (Activities Outside Of Normal For A Retirement Home). Not bad at all for a pair of old fogies. . . .

I suppose now I best go on to a cautionary tale much on the order of Beatrix Potter’s Peter Rabbit in that mine will also involve what happens when offspring fail to listen to their mother, wherein much can be learned. Peter went into Mr. McGregor’s garden and almost got caught and lost his fine new clothes and ended up in bed with a cold while his sisters enjoyed blackberries with their supper. Mine involves discovering much as #4 son did when he was around three years of age who told me when I found him with the sugar bowl in his hand, “Sugar tastes good with nothing under it”. You see I discovered the same thing about brown sugar and even though warned by my mother about what would happen to little girls who ate sugar like there was no tomorrow To which she added as she always did when passing on Parental Advice to my sisters and me, “You’ll be sorry if you don’t”. Sadly I ignored her and continued on my merry way. Was she right in her warning? Alas, I must say she was and I have the fillings in my teeth to prove it.

Here I must confess that I have never come out of the closet with this story until now. I do so in the hopes that the telling of this sad tale will have a salutary effect on any of my posterity who might be similarly inclined. ‘Nuff said about my past indiscretions. I have learned my lessons the hard way just as my mother promised me I would all those many years ago. Correct me if I am wrong but I even think there is something in the Ten Commandments about honoring one’s parents with a resulting promise if followed that would allow one to pass through metal detectors at airports without setting off the alarms. Oh, well. . . .too late now.

I came across the following quote by Alfred Sheinwold which I feel can be applied to the wisdom I have just shared: “Learn all you can from the mistakes of others. You won’t have time to make them all yourself” I know for a fact that this is true having worked my way through a number of things that could have been avoided had I been willing to heed this particular bit of wisdom. Therefore let it be known to one and all—Stay away from large quantities of brown sugar! While your dentist will not be as rich your teeth will thank you!

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September 14, 2009

Ah so, still many lessons to be learned by elderly woman as she experiences another of life’s interesting moments which while not truly of large or magnificent import, on the grand scale of things, still provided much for her to think about. To wit having candles in ones emergency storage does no good if one cannot access them in an emergency. Have I piqued your curiosity yet? On the off hand chance that having read this far you dear reader will continue to peruse further I will attempt to explain just what it was that caused this epiphany for EW at such an advanced stage of her earthly sojourn when, according to theory wisdom has become embedded as a ‘right’ of passage in one’s psyche.

This, is how it all began. The lights started to flicker on and off around 3:30 this afternoon which caused, among other things, the television to go into meltdown mode after blinking off and then immediately back on. Unfortunately, for the viewing public, of which she is one, Cedar City has many such moments. Although not life threatening it does mean she spends a great deal of time administering TLC to all things electronic that resent the loss of their power source even if only a nano-second. Her TV shows it’s dislike by petulantly refusing to tell what program is currently playing when the remote requests such information on all of the gazillions of channels it can access so that she can find something to wile away an hour or so, instead choosing to defiantly state TO BE ANNOUNCED for the next hour until the little man who sits inside the television gets his act together and starts things working again. While frustrating to the viewer, that would be her, it is not of a life threatening nature because she only watches about 4 channels out of the hundreds available and pretty much knows what comes on when, but still. . . having paid good money she would like to have it whenever she desires.

She eventually left the resetting of clocks, etc for a happier pursuit and went over to her friend Sue’s to help with the quilt she is making for her granddaughter’s wedding. She stayed there happily doing one of her most favorite activities i.e. the pricking of her fingers until they are a bloody pulp, otherwise known as quilting. When the outside light began to fail she quickly hied herself home, which is an oxymoron as, even when trying to move fast, she doesn’t. Sigh. While walking along she noticed without thinking anything of it because that is what one expects to see as the sun is setting that lights were on in the four-plex that sits on the corner just down the road from her home so when she got home and found HGH sitting in the darkening front room she asked him if he would like her to turn the light on as she was up and he was down but he just shook his head morosely and said the power was off and had been for awhile and who knew when it would come on again as he certainly didn’t. This condition flummoxed her as her usual routine at days end was completely discombobulated. Just what does one do in the dark when it is only seven-thirty? She and HGH tried conversing with each other which they did in a desultory fashion, but having spent 48 years with each other they didn’t have much to say that hadn’t already been said so that didn’t hold the interest of either very long.

The old brain cells don’t fire as quickly as they used to but EW finally realized that this might be a good time to light a few candles while there was still light enough to do so. AHEM. This is where the afore mentioned ‘problem’ arose as she had cleaned out the drawer where miscellaneous items such as candles used to reside in a fit of organizing a few months earlier and placed them safely with all her emergency supplies downstairs in the room with no windows which meant that in the rapidly failing light there was absolutely no light in that room. Of course there was THE flashlight but it was in the garage which by now was a perilous place to attempt to find anything in as the workbench, where the flashlight spends most of it’s time could only be reached by a tortuous route that required LIGHT which was now, AWOL. EW fearing for safety of life and limb if she ventured out there declined that as a viable option.

What to do. What to do. There she sat dithering and thinking and wishing she had her candles easily to hand as the light grew dimmer and dimmer. Then EUREKA she remembered the candles she had hanging decoratively in her sewing room. While she had not actually planned on ever using them for their intended purpose she figured, “what the hey, any port in a storm” and retrieved them which brought her to her next problem MATCHES. “RATS”. They also had been moved down by the emergency candles. . . . EW can be quite thorough when on a roll. . . . Then she remembered there was a tiny box of matches used to light birthday candles somewhere in the cupboard that held the spare light bulbs which is over the refrigerator. This meant she needed to drag a chair to climb on in order to reach that cupboard. Oh dear reader, you will never know the trials we who are vertically challenged must face. Not letting that fact keep her down, she hoisted herself up and began the delicate task of finding matches in near darkness. A task made harder, I must add, by the top of the refrigerator needing a good wash which she believes in doing at least once a year whether needed or not. (This fits the maxim, of which she has many “a time for everything and everything in its time.)

Matches/candles secured she was now ready for the lighting ceremony when the next problem presented itself. Small candles, which these were, need a small candle holder which she did not have have. Sparing you the details of her resourcefulness, suffice it to say she finally found a small brass vase with a very narrow neck that was pressed into service.

At last, LIGHT and not a minute too soon. Not a lot, to be sure but much better than the alternative. HGH(Her Good Husband) even read for a half hour by its wavering glow. (Having made his point that it could be done, which she had questioned, he then gave up and went to bed.)

As to the cause of all this hardship. Seems a ‘pole’ had caught fire and taken the transformer out in the process. We learned this from our neighbor who had called the power company who also told him that they were working on getting the problem fixed and should have the power on by midnight, which they did. (She knew this because she was still awake when the power came back on having felt a need to care for all things electrical which had been running when it went off and now needed to be shut down. Duty can be a heavy burden to bear. . . .

This was a localized loss of power and so it was frustrating to be in the dark and see lights blazing away down below us . Comforting, if that’s the right word, to see darkness northward down Wedgewood and to the east of us as misery loves company. It also brings to mind the old adage, “You never miss the water ’til the well runs dry”. To which EW now adds “candles” as well. EW is, of course, making plans to put her emergency lighting necessities closer to hand and has promised herself she is going to do this as soon as she can get around to it as forwarned means she won’t be twice burned!

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August 25, 2009

Today is my mother’s birthday. If she were alive she would be 93 years old. As the oldest, I was named after my mother her full name being Nellie Juanita Waddington (Gano). My full name is Nellie Joanne Gano (Andrus). Because my parents didn’t want the confusion of two ‘Nellie’s’ I went by my middle name Joanne. I don’t think I’ve ever given much thought about what an honor it is to be gifted with another’s name although we have certainly done that to many of our children by giving them the names of family members. For instance there is our oldest daughter Marie who was given the French Marie which translates into Mary in English as they wished to name her after her mother. By doing this they could call her by her first name and solve a lot of problems in one fell swoop. (Boy did I ever say that awkwardly. I’ll have to think on it and see if I can smooth it up a bit or perhaps I’ll just turn it over to Marie as she has just completed an editing class and now knows all about how such things are done. I mean, what’s the benefit of having a ‘passel’ of kids and then not get some good out of them? But then, who are we kidding as we all know that no sooner do they get big enough to be of some real use and they go hareing off on their own. Not that I am complaining as this is what they should be doing if you’ve raised them right but oh how I miss those chocolate chip cookies the girls used to bake especially when they came hot out of the oven and the chocolate chips were still runny so they melted in your mouth when you took that first bite and invariably burned your tongue which is why you had a big glass of ice cold milk already poured and ready. Could there be anything better? Sadly, my cookie bakers have all gone on to bake cookies for their own families and so I rarely enjoy this treat anymore unless I go visit one of them. What bake them myself you say? No way say I—after all that’s why I had kids!)
I got carried away there and off topic but will quickly repent of my divergence which puts me in mind of a story told about J. Golden Kimball who was often rebuked for using salty language in his sermons and gave this response when told he needed to clean his language up or face excommunication. “Cut me off from the church? They can’t do that! I repent too damn fast.” Which in my case means I might get off subject for a bit but I usually correct myself within a paragraph or two and get back to where I meant to be, which in this case is telling about names of various family members because, of course, I mean to go through the list of children born to this family. What a pleasure it is for me to recite their names. As prayer beads slip through the fingers of supplicants giving comfort in the recitation of familiar verses so does saying the names of our children as they slide past my tongue bring memories of them and their growing up days when we laughed, cried, learned from each as we were joined together in the unique grouping know as ‘family’. Come say their names with me, Marie, Robyn, Dawn, Kyle, Mark, Jay, Sylvia, Ford, Brooks, Sherman, Joy. . . .
Marie Lenore Andrus (Scott), named after her mother using the French word for Mary and her maternal grandmother’s first name.
Robyn and Dawn are twins. I’m not sure if their names have any special family significance other than their mother just liked them. She also chose not to give them a middle name as she felt most women had one name too many when they married if you included a middle name. As fate would have it neither of them ever married and have gone through life with only two names which only adds, in my opinion, to their uniqueness.
Kyle DeVon Andrus, as everyone who grew up in a certain era and was a fan of football was named after football great Kyle Rote a man so greatly admired by his teammates on the New York Giants for his leadership skills as well as his playing abilities that many of them named their sons Kyle as well. As first born son he was also given his father’s name.
John Mark Andrus, was named after his maternal grandfather John McAdam. His middle name has no family significance but is one that both his parents liked.
Jay Franklin Andrus was given his paternal grandfather’s middle name as his middle name. The name Jay game, of course from his dad’s love of sports. One Jay his dad admired was a relative, Jay Lambert who used his boxing skills to earn money to pay for his medical degree. Jay who was a contemporary of his dad’s. I never thought of Jay as being popular name but there were a lot of them his dad admired. Figures as Jay is a natural athlete with tremendous athletic abilities.
Sylvia Joanne Andrus (Breu) whose first name is a variant of of her paternal grandmother Bertha Sylvira Wright’s (Rasmussen) (Andrus) middle name. She is the only one of the granddaughters to be named for her grandmother. In addition her dad liked the song “Sylvia’s hair is like the night, touched with dancing starry lights” which is somewhat of a misnomer as Sylvia was a blond as a girl and even though her hair has darkened over the years it was never even close to black. Like the song she is and always has been beautiful.
Ford Gano Andrus was named after my father Ford Iman Gano. While I think he has come to accept his name it was the cause of much sorrow for him while growing up as he was teased unmercifully by some of his classmates who took to calling him “Chevy” in an attempt to get his goat.
Paul Brooks Andrus has my grandfather Paul Elbert Gano’s given name as his given name as well. If you are a fan of baseball you would immediately recognize the great 3rd baseman Brooks Robinson who played for the Baltimore Orioles as the inspiration for his middle name. Without realizing what I was doing, which could be the theme of my life, I inadvertently have caused Brooks a great deal of grief as I thought Paul Brooks sounded better than Brooks Paul with the result that Brooks is often known as Paul to many of his non family friends and acquaintances.
#6 son is named for my grandfather William Sherman Waddington. We also afflicted him with my maiden name as his middle name. Who knows perhaps that was a blessing provided by his dad as I wanted to name him William Sherman Andrus.
As for our #5 daughter I gained the inspiration for her name from her brother Sherman who at age six was standing on a chair so he could talk on the wall phone to one of his school friends and who I overheard telling his friend, “My mom’s name is Joy Anne”. That’s all it took. I knew that’s what her name would be and as her dad agreed completely with me on this one, it was done.
So there you have it—the names of the children born to this family. Say their names with me again, Marie Lenore, Robyn, Dawn, Kyle DeVon, John Mark, Jay Franklin, Sylvia Joanne, Ford Gano, Paul Brooks, Sherman Gano, Joy Anne. Don’t they slide easily off the tongue . . . .

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