Sea Horses and Other Beasts

When I was five years old, dad loaded the family into the yellow Rambler station wagon and we set out for Long Beach to my Aunt Mary and Uncle John's house. I think the intention was just to visit. The gatherings of moms family were always very............... loud. A lot of talking. A lot of loud talking. With some loud laughter thrown in. 

The family called my Uncle John a crazy Lithuanian. He brylcreemed his hair straight back, always had a tan and smoked stinky cigars. He also told funny stories. He had served in the military and in fact, he and my Aunt Mary, moms older sister, had met while both serving in the Navy. She was stationed in Washington D.C. and came home with Uncle John. I understand it was quite the surprise.

I found him hysterical because he put such a funny twist on things and he was always so sweet to me. I don't know when I noticed the first time, but he was missing a pinky finger. I was fascinated by that, and finally screwed up the courage one day to ask him about it. He said he lost it when he was picking his nose. "Jammed my finger up my nose, pulled it out and that thing was gone!" My status as "high functioning blonde" started when I was extremely young, so of course I believed it, and spent a fair amount of time trying to get a look up his nose to see if the stump was still there. His finger was actually shot off in World War 2. 

Aunt Mary and Uncle John had an itchy mohair sectional of the very latest chic mid century vintage. It was black with sliver sparkles in it. Isn't it weird the things you remember? On this particular day they also had a puppy. When we walked in the door, this little brown flash of lightening ran toward us and of course, my brother Ming and I thought he was the best thing ever. Up until that point, we didn't have pets, but when Uncle John saw how taken we were with this puppy, he immediately told us we could have him. Never asked my dad if it was ok, just said he was ours. Who knew when we got in the Rambler that day that we'd be returning home with a wiener dog named Toby? Dad was sure that John had picked him up in a bar. I'm not sure what that connection was, but it seemed pretty important to dad.

"Tobias T. Mutt" went on to live until after I was married, and was a big part of not only my growing up years, but also my courtship with my husband. As a kid, he had some fish, guinea pigs and a desert tortoise but never had a dog of his own. My better half spent endless hours wonderfully amused watching Toby fall asleep while standing up. His legs were only a few inches long, so it didn't take much of a nod to smack his snout on the cement to wake himself up. To me, it was "just Toby." To my handsome boyfriend, it was a barrel of laughs. 

During my childhood, I also had lots of fish, water turtles, hamsters, the guinea pig and desert tortoise I inherited from my boyfriend when he went away to college, and sea horses that I had gotten through mail order. They were pretty cool, and even had babies in my care, but met their maker when my cousin tried to "help" by feeding them hot dogs. 

Little brother, Bunns, came along about a year after we got Toby. By then, Toby had gotten used to being the baby of the family and loved by all, and was quite depressed when mom and dad came home with the new baby. The rest of us could do anything we wanted to do to Toby, but if little brother just pointed at him, it sent Toby into fits of snarling and barking. 

Toby is no longer with us. But I'm glad that Bunns is still around. 

Then God said, 

"Let the earth bring forth living creatures after their kind: cattle and creeping things and beasts of the earth after their kind;" 

and it was so. 

God made the beasts of the earth after their kind, and the cattle after their kind, and everything that creeps on the ground after its kind; 

and God saw that it was good. 

Genesis 1:24-25

1964

Early 70's

Around Town 10 on 10

When you hear someone say they're from the south, you usually think of gracious plantation homes, gentle accents, magnolias and beautiful southern women. Well..... I'm from the south. But MY south includes deserts, tie dye, beaches and granola folk. I'm a homegrown product of Southern California. We've moved all over the country since leaving the land of fruits, flakes and nuts, but I never imagined in a million years that I would end up in the mid-west. And yet, that is where I find myself. I live in the exact geographical center of the state of Ohio. And we've set a personal record by living here longer than any other place in our married life. 

This little town is known as the "City of Respect" and holds its place in history as the birthplace of the tomato. I kid you not. Evidently a city father propagated the very first domesticated tomato. We even have an annual Tomato Festival with a queen and everything. So, next time you bite into one, you'll know where those little red beauties got their start. The township sits on the National Road which was originally intended to run between Cumberland Maryland and the Ohio river. I'll admit, I lived here quite a long time before realizing the historical gem that ran just a few streets from my door.

So, here's a peek at my little piece of America's heartland. Enjoy.

The towns history is captured in a beautiful mural on the National Road. We just call it "Main St."

Yep. Our little Main Street is famous.

The mural sits right across the street from the old hardware store. Every mid-western town needs at least one vintage neon sign.

We also have a tank that sits proudly in front of the VFW. 

There are lots of working farms and this one right across the street reminds me so much of the farms in Lancaster Pa. Yep. We lived there too.

We have some beautiful architecture and this is much smaller than it appears. It's known as the Tower Building.

And we have our fair share of irony. Why is that you ask? Because you can't get any further to the rear of the property than this little garage. All the parking is actually in front of it.

This is a community of contrasts. On one road, we host the beautiful Macedonian Orthodox Cathedral, but just a few streets away......

.....there is an abandoned Quonset hut. These were used by the military all over the Pacific theater in World War 2 to house personnel and supplies. I even got in on the fun when the military sold them as surplus and my school district in California picked up a few to use as additional classroom space. They were hot and stinky. I'd love to know how this one landed in the middle of a farm field in Ohio only to be forgotten. 

I'm always amazed at what I find in this little town. This is a Lustron Home from the early 50's. Built from steel. All steel. Top to bottom, inside and out including the shingles. Contrary to popular belief, it's steel construction actually makes it extra safe in lightening, but hanging pictures is a challenge. It's been several years since I spoke to one of the residents, but as far as I know, it still belongs to the original owners.

I'm many years and a long ways away from SoCal, but for now this is home. 
And more interesting than I ever realized!




For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.
2 Cor. 5:1




Linking up to: Rebekah Gough

Happy Birthday, Dad

My dad at 19 years old. Brand new to California, 

and contemplating just how big that ocean is. 

He always hated the beach..........

Today would have been my dad's 86th birthday. His name was Norm Newberry, and he was a good, hardworking family man from Nebraska. At the age of 14, his own dad suddenly passed away, and even though he wasn't the oldest of the brood, my dad always felt that it was his responsibility to care for and support his large family. His mother, my grandmother, was able to keep the family relatively stable until dad graduated from high school, but shortly after that, the family moved to California. In his heart of hearts, he was always a Nebraska boy, and would have loved nothing more than to raise us in his home town of Alliance. His own father would have been so proud of the man he became.

Dad was from simple stock. The family wasn't wealthy, nor did they possess myriad advanced degrees, but they made a good way by working hard and doing what was right. I haven't been a 'Newberry' for nearly 40 years, but I still carry the lessons my dad taught me. He wasn't perfect, but he passed along so much and I do my best not to embarrass him. The older I get, the more I appreciate those simple homespun lessons I learned from my dad.

He was a dental lab technician, and most mornings, when I got out of bed as a child, he was already gone for work. He also ran a 'side business' in order to support us and that kept him working at the kitchen table until long after I went to bed. I remember on a few occasions that I insisted I could keep pace with him and stay awake until he finally retired for the night. So I sat across the table talking with him until finally falling asleep with my face buried in the last thing I was trying to eat when I finally gave in. He taught me the importance of working hard and earning my own way.

He was pretty stubborn, and I think that was what made him capable of handling the sometimes huge challenges that life handed him. When I was in eighth grade, he and my little brother were in a serious car accident. Dad spent months in a hip cast with pins in his leg before transitioning over to a leg brace. While he was still in a wheel chair, he lost his job. So with a family of five depending on him, he started his own business full time. He turned part of the bonus room upstairs into a dental lab while still in a short cast and later in the leg brace. He did all the construction, plumbing and electric required to create the lab all by himself and that same lab served to support the family until he finally retired in his sixties. Occasionally he would express his frustration at the situation, but he never bad mouthed the dentist that had let him go at such a difficult time. 

Dad was an excellent listener, and often got to the point of what we were trying to say before we even knew what the point was. He taught me how important it is to make a conversation a two sided affair. Never let things end until asking the other person how they are and listening to the answer. Nothing is more hurtful and frustrating than talking to a person for a long time and not once having them ask about you and your family. Like they're the only important ones in the conversation and you really don't matter. It happens all the time in our egocentric society. I work hard on this one. I want people to know that I care and I'm so thankful when they care enough to ask about me and those I love.

Dad also liked a good debate and would often say the most bizarre things to spark one. Unfortunately, at the time, I often didn't catch that they were merely verbal challenges 'to make us think' and would actually think he truly believed in what he had just said. Of course, it set me up perfectly. He was an amazing wordsmith too, so I usually walked away from the conversation scratching my head and wondering what just happened. My little brother inherited this talent with words and the ability to reason me around the corner into a state of complete confusion. My daughter recently shared the label 'high functioning blonde' with me. I'm not a blonde, but it fits. 

My dad enjoyed "dad-ism's" that we heard often growing up. "How are you, Norm?" To which the answer was always "I'm pregnant!" If we inserted ourselves into a conversation and asked who he was talking about, he would answer "Who? Who? Your feet don't fit a limb!" I spent so much time trying to figure out what a 'fitalim' was that I was into adulthood before I really understood what he was telling me. I think that was much kinder than telling me to stop being nosy. Even in the last weeks of his life, when he could no longer be understood when he spoke, was in terrible pain and confined to bed, dad was still full of the dad-ism's. I was able to pass along the answers to the questions being asked simply because I had heard them so many times over the years. He body was failing fast, but his sense of humor was just fine.

It was my honor to help in my dad's care in the final months of his life. He gave me so much and it was a gift to me to be able to give back dignified loving care. With his family surrounding him, praying and citing Scripture, and in his own home, his life on earth came to a close. Dad didn't like moving, and when he and my mom moved into the little house in which he died, he commented that he'd only leave that place 'feet first.' That's exactly how he exited the last time. In the time that he did battle with the cancer that eventually took his life, he never complained. And at every opportunity he expressed his gratitude for what was being done for him. Amazing. Simply amazing. 

I can't believe it's been over ten years since his death. He was a life long smoker and lung cancer finally had its way with him. My oldest daughter had the privilege of christening his 'grampa name' and he was tagged 'Papa' early on. Since he's been gone, four of his six grandchildren have married and brought a total of nine great grandchildren into the family. Number ten will be here in just a few weeks. Dad loved kids, and he was better with babies than most women are. Nothing would have made him happier than to have had a houseful of them. I so wish my son in laws and my grandchildren could have known him. 'Papa' was a good guy. 

I wish you could have known him too. He wasn't perfect, and could be a bit curmudgeonly at times, but he was genuinely nice and I guarantee that he would have made you comfortable and given you a reason to smile. My ultimate example in life is my heavenly Father, and He is the One I seek to please. But I have a pretty great legacy from my earthly father too. I always try to stay mindful to live up to both, and by God's grace, sometimes I'm able to. 

Tell those around you how important they are to you today. Tell them how much you appreciate and love them. Time goes by too fast, and before you know it, the opportunity will be passed. 

Just as a father has compassion on his children,

So the Lord has compassion 

on those who fear Him.

Ps. 103:13

The family had gathered in California for a visit, and it wasn't very often that all of the kids and grandkids could be together, so on this visit, we made sure to get some good family pictures. It was the same weekend that he learned grandchild #6 was on the way. The look on dads face perfectly reflects how he felt about family. Time together is all he ever wanted. I inherited that from him.

With Bunns, Ming and the folks

We've bid farewell to two, but added fifteen!

The summer before he died. This was taken in my little brothers back yard and he was watching the bedlam of his children and grandchildren playing cards.
Nothing made him happier than being surrounded by family.