The Bootlegger

When little brother, Bunns, was born, it became evident to my folks that it was time to build on to the house. Bunns was bunked with me, and the novelty of it wore off the very first morning he was there when he chose to wake me from a sound sleep by dropping a glass baby bottle on my head. The new space didn't happen immediately, but eventually a second story took shape above the garage. It housed a family room, and a bedroom which big brother inhabited, so that little brother could move out of mine and into his old one. 

Our neighborhood was made up of ranch style houses and so any sounds that emanated from this new second story carried well. It provided a source of continuous entertainment to the neighbors as mom and dad engaged in  whatever happened to be on television. They both knew how to laugh, and just listening to them usually brought others  to laughter too. The folks never held back, and so their personalities made them quite the story tellers as well.

I grew up hearing tomes about their own upbringing, family facts and traditions, experiences, etc., and I heard the stories so often that I admit I quit listening early on. A story would come up that I had heard so often, I could probably tell it myself without a script and so I would tune out. Now, I wish I had not only listened better, but also recorded them and their words. They experienced some amazing things; from the story about dad scaling the face of George Washington on Mt. Rushmore with friends to retrieve a baseball cap that had blown away and caught on Georges nose, to their time in France while dad served in the Army. 

But one story that mom told again just recently on a day unclouded by an ongoing battle against dementia, had to do with her own dad. 

I never met my Grandpa Draut. He died before any of us were born, and I can't help but believe that I really missed out on not knowing him. My dad's father died when my dad was 14, and so I never enjoyed a living grandfather. But my dad took to the man that would become his father in law almost immediately after meeting him. I think he really needed a good man in his young life and God gave him Joseph Draut. 

My own dad was famous for nicknames which were always rooted in affection for the one being tagged. He often called me "barge bottom", or "flutter butt", which were both hysterical because I was such a skinny kid, and "Sarah heartburn". I trusted him and never took offense. He was a good guy who loved me without limits. 

He called my Grandpa Draut "Colonel". And evidently, Grandpa was always so honored. Little did he know that dad spelled his nickname a bit differently. "Kernel".  Like the center of a nut. 

These were the type of stories I grew up hearing. But I did a little math recently in connection to the one my mom told about her dad and was shocked at the result. Joseph Draut, worked in the oil fields in Long Beach, CA after moving his family west from Kansas.  He loved his new state and much to their chagrin, drug his transplanted family all over the place at every opportunity to explore their new home. They always lived hand to mouth, and one of his past times before leaving Kansas was brewing his own beer in the cellar. Mom tells of hearing the jugs explode on occasion when they weren't sealed properly, and how they grew up drinking beer with meals.

Not only did my venerable grandfather brew his own suds, he also used it to supplement the family income as he sold it out the back door during Prohibition.  I realized the Kernel was a bootlegger!! How many people can make that claim!? Priceless!

Listening to my folks tell their stories gave me reason to laugh especially when they went from the ridiculous to the sublime. And they're a part of what makes me who I am. Evidently, the granddaughter of a bootlegger. 

Honor your father and your mother, 

that your days may be prolonged in the land which the Lord your God gives you.

Ex. 20:12

"The Kernel"

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Wedding Gifts

Recently, our pastor reminded us to "Live our lives in a manner that would allow us to sell the family parrot to the town gossip". A great challenge with which we have a bit of experience.

My better looking half and I just celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary. I used to look at people that had been married that long and think... "They're so OLD!!" And while I wanted to stay married forever, together through thick and thin, I really never wrapped my head around what that would mean. Like, the better part of my whole life!! We've been married way longer than we were unmarried and you'll be happy to know that we're not near as old as people used to be when they were married that long!

But when we got married, it was kind of the beginning of wedding registries, and weddings weren't the ridiculously expensive affairs they are now. Ours  ended up being much bigger than we had planned, but I had a huge family, and ultimately we wanted those who were special to us to be included, so we just went with the flow. Even though large, we kept it pretty simple and enjoyed the day.

We experienced many of the wedding traumas that you hear about. 1/2 of our wedding pictures didn't turn out because evidently, the film (yes children, actual film) didn't wind up in the camera and when the photographer opened it up it kind of sproinged out like a joke can of peanuts.  All that were taken before the wedding were lost, so other than a couple of fuzzy photos that were snapped with an instamatic camera that one of the bridesmaids had, we don't have any leading up to it.

I was VERY late getting to the church, and my better half's grandmother was pacing and wringing her hands in fear that I wouldn't show. We had dated four long years waiting for this day and standing him up was the last thing on my mind. In my defense, it was a very long and busy day leading up to the ceremony, and I was ready to go on time. A friend of my dad's ended up driving me to the church, and in a very calm way, reminded me that nothing could start until I arrived. Sweet sweet man. 

The ceremony finally began and went off without a hitch. My better half wore his dress USAF uniform and on the cassette tape (the very best technology money could buy) you can hear people gasp when he came in. And while friends and family, bridesmaids in gold and yellow dresses wearing big sun hats and carrying baskets of flowers, and groomsmen in brown tuxedos with yellow ruffled shirts and velvet bow ties looked on, we finally tied the knot. 

 May 27, 1978

No one loved me enough to tell me that in later years, my color choices would bring uproarious laughter from my teenagers. It was popular. I just wanted to get married. What did I know?? The icing on the cake, so to speak, was the fountain that was a part of our wedding cake. I asked for yellow food coloring in the water to "match" the wedding. Again, no one loved me enough to question me. *insert laughing emoji here!*

The best and most fun part of the day came when we all trooped back to my folks house and actually opened the wedding gifts. An amazing creative and precious assortment provided by people who cared for us. Included was an awesome macrame wall hanging and a harvest gold hand mixer. I loved the 70's! But by far, the most unique gift we received was living and breathing.

A couple of my friends gave us a cockatiel, already finger trained and complete with a cage. Yes, folks, that would be a bird. Neither of us had ever had a bird. We named him "Hot Pongo" and he was a lot of fun. We taught him how to talk and he picked up some simple tunes. We even took him outside when we worked in the yard and he happily sat in a tree or bush and supervised. His wings were kept trimmed, but one time he did take flight and ended up at our neighbors house a few doors down before we caught up with him.

Hot Pongo loved Doritos and even though they gave him horrendous breath, we let him eat them. He also liked sitting on the edge of our cereal bowls to share breakfast. Anything shiny always caught his eye, and he decided that the diamond on my ring was intriguing so he bit it off. Yes, you read that right.

He spent his days with free run of wherever we happened to be living at the time, and his favorite place was always in front of a mirror, talking and singing happily. He discovered that if he put his head in a corner or in an enclosed space, it made his sounds really fun, so he experimented a lot with that. Hot Pongo was truly a gift that kept on giving. 

We had another cockatiel in later years, but she wasn't near as much fun as our first baby bird. 

Thankfully, we had nothing to be embarrassed about when we introduced our "parrot"... usually. Except when people found out that his favorite enclosed space to sing was actually into our mouths. Great acoustics, evidently.

May 27, 2018

Guard my soul and deliver me;

Do not let me be ashamed, 

for I take refuge in You.

Let integrity and uprightness preserve me,

For I wait for You. 

Psalm 23:20-21

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Why Cleaning Out My Closet Wasn't A Good Idea

I find myself engaged in the ever increasing struggle to control my closet. Yes, there are too many things in there, and while they all fit, they don't all "fit", you know? But the battle isn't against the size of my wardrobe.  I'm actually fighting against barreling down geezer road in there. 

 Elastic waists are so alluring. Fluffy pants are calling my name. Unstructured t-shirts and a full collection of "cruise wear" beckon me. 

I began a new decade on my last birthday, and it served to motivate me to take a critical look at the closet. I tossed all the dresses and pantyhose awhile ago and now I own a single pair of dress slacks, basic black, and everything else in there goes with jeans. 

In my earlier life, I pretty much lived in levi's and t's. And I find that for the most part, I've  gone back to the old reliable look. It's comfortable and familiar. The experts aren't ok with that. The experts say that you should never wear blue jeans after 53 years old. Yeah...

My jeans might be stretch denim, but they're not elastic waist and I try to stay stylish with my t's. A friend even made me one to match my bitmoji!! 

(Yeah. We'll call that stylish even though I'm sure the experts would not)

 

My grown daughters are my muses. I pay much closer attention than they realize to how they put outfits together and attempt age appropriate parroting. That usually works pretty well for me. 

I've also been considering doing the "Capsule Wardrobe" thing that's been so popular lately.  That would require some really heartless cleaning out.

With all of that in mind, I cleaned out the closet and drawers recently, and I actually got especially brutal with the scarves (which seem to accumulate because I live in cold weather) and socks. There were several things that I had been holding on to because I knew if I passed them along, I would need them. 

Even though all the experts say that if you haven't worn it in 5 minutes, it should be given away. 

But today, I found myself trying to get dressed for a somber occasion with a real problem, and realized

THOSE EXPERTS ARE WRONG!! 

About a week ago, I tossed those drawers and reveled in the spare look of them!! And guess what I needed this morning!! A pair of socks to go with the black dress slacks and shoes that had survived the cut. The socks had been purged. *sigh*

 

So that's why I ended up wearing Easter egg socks and a scarf that was totally inappropriate. 

I managed the look by bunching up the scarf and sitting in a way that didn't show the socks. 

Obviously, age has sucked all good taste and appropriateness out of me. 

If you need me, I'll be out shopping for socks.   

She makes linen garments and sells them,

And supplies belts to the tradesmen.

Strength and dignity are her clothing,

And she smiles at the future.

She opens her mouth in wisdom, 

And the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.

Proverbs 31:24-26

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Journeys in an Orange Jacket and Other Lessons

Several years ago, I purchased a jacket to make a trek to the Pacific Northwest. We've traveled a lot over the years, thanks to my handsome half, so I knew the jacket would get a lot of use. What I didn't anticipate were all the lessons I'd learn along the way. I'm sure you've read all kinds of travel primers, that are polished and informative, but maybe you haven't really considered the bottom of the barrel basics. 

So, because you obviously have nothing better to do, here's my list of basics. 

Packing

We raised fairly self sufficient children, and one of the earliest lessons they learned about travel is to travel light. "If you bring it, you carry it. If you can't carry it, don't pack it." They learned the value of such preparation when they began traveling with school groups and girls that brought monster suitcases they had no hope of carrying, so expected the boys to be their pack mules. No bueno. NO one wants to carry your junk, NO one wants to help you load that beast in an overhead compartment, and most airlines prohibit their flight crews from helping because of injuries. 

A sub lesson to this one is already well known. Only bring half of what you think you'll need. Trust me on this one. If you're desperate and you didn't bring it, go to the store. That's why God created them.

Last but not least, take clothes that are flexible. My jacket also serves as a belt.

Security

Not all travel involves security, obviously, but often, even if you're traveling by car, you'll run into border crossings that call for patience. And though borders and TSA are supposed to be uniform in the way they function, they aren't. Trust me, you never know from airport to airport, border to border, what will be required of you. It's always going to be different. Be patient. These people really aren't "trying" to be difficult, some are just that way naturally. And the least you can do is not add to it. They can make your life extremely difficult. 

Restrooms

So. Just a few basic things. Obey the signs, people. I had a friend laugh uproariously at this one, but we've seen a bunch of shoe prints on potty seats over the years and these signs are necessary. The basic ones that anyone can decipher: 

And the more complicated ones obviously designed for English speakers: 

Pay attention, people. Sometimes those babies rock a little and no one want's you falling off that porcelain tower and breaking something. NO rescue squad wants that duty!

Public restrooms are bad enough, so please show a little courtesy:

Leave a tail. It makes it so much easier for the person following you. 

And for heavens sake, people, WASH YOUR HANDS!!!

Traveling "companions"

These folks are often surprising. You never know who you'll end up with in the seat next to you, in line in front of you, or waiting too closely behind you and literally breathing down your neck. The definition of "personal space" is different from place to place, and most cultures don't respect the arms length unwritten rule. Do your best with this one. Take a deep breath.

Signs

Believe it or not, signs, whether they're for warning or restricting, are there for everyone. If you're supposed to remain in a certain area, stay in that area, if you're supposed to stay on the trail, Stay. On. The. Trail. On recent hiking trips in National Parks, I was shocked to see the people tromping off into restricted areas so they could get a better selfie. Really people? I'll admit. I wanted to slap them. 

Be flexible

You'd think this would go without saying, but I've seen the melt downs. "My trip was SUPPOSED to go this way or that." Yeah, well, welcome to travel. Even in a private jet, sometimes things don't go the way you planned. Life is unpredictable. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. I know as well as anyone the frustration of being left at the gate or getting caught in traffic snarls, and mix ups in the various stages of getting around. But temper tantrums won't change things. 

We've found the most amazing things because of kinks in our travel plans. Beautiful things we may not have seen otherwise. Sweet times with our kids spent in airports because for one reason or another, we couldn't take the flight we planned. Even traffic jams have been quite entertaining if approached with the right attitude. 

While it may be hard in the moment when you're trying to fully grasp the challenges that have been placed in your path, try to take a step back, take a deep breath and remember that raising your blood pressure won't change what you might be facing. And people will be much more helpful if you're more pleasant. 

Bottom line, travel.......... any kind of travel is an amazing privilege that many don't have the opportunity to experience. What do you want to remember about your journey? I choose sweet memories created by the challenges.

My jacket has a lot of miles on it. It's not in style anymore, I'm sure, but given enough time, it'll come back. For now it's still more than serviceable. I look forward to the journeys yet to come. 

For He will command His angels concerning you

to guard you in all your ways;

they will lift you up in their hands,

so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

Ps. 91:11-12

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Bye, I Love You

Every time I leave the airport, I tend to reflect. This time was no different. I think about the number of airports I've driven away from, the number of times that bags have been pulled from the back of the car, the number of curbside kisses and hugs and reminders to "be safe". How many times have I said the words "I love you" amidst the cacophony of sounds of jet engines cycling up, screeching tires, and the smell of various and sundry kinds of exhaust?

  

Pinning on those wings!

The airports are all different. Some military, some civilian. Some small operations, some are of the huge international variety. I've driven away in sweltering heat, freezing cold with ice and snow covered roads, sometimes when the sun is out, but most of the time it's "0'dark thirty". We change places in the car and I get in the drivers seat, close the door, wave good bye one last time, take a deep breath and drive away. For years I've done this. Different jets and different cities, but the experience has always been universal and included the same things in the same order. 

 

Leaving the airport this time was the same as it's always been. My handsome half, dressed in his sharp uniform with 4 stripes on the sleeves and the shiny gold wings over the breast pocket, went to work. He loves his job and I do too. It may have it's challenges for both of us, but it's what he's always wanted to do, and what makes him happy, makes me happy. I can't imagine being married to a 9 to 5ver. What would that be like? He spent some time on the management side of the operation for awhile and I got a bit of a taste, but even that job included weird schedules and absences.

The man I married decided he wanted to fly at 6 or 7, actually started to fly at 14 and has been sitting in the front seat gazing out the windscreen ever since. For 47 years he's literally been seeing the world from the best seat in the house. He's explored the spaces from sea level to 51,000 feet and everything in between all over the world, experienced inflight emergencies, flown in every kind of weather imaginable; he even got the news at altitude that I was in labor and managed to make it home in time to experience the birth of our second daughter. 

It's been an amazing ride for me as well. The first time in my life that I ever flew was at barely 17 years old, on August 17, 1974 with him, my 18 year old boyfriend, at the controls. We took a 2 seater airplane on a journey to Santa Catalina Island off the coast of California. They had good buffalo burgers at the FBO on Catalina so we flew over and enjoyed a great lunch before flying home. On the way back, he turned the airplane on it's side so that I could get a good view of the boat races that were going on in the ocean below us. 

 I've gotten to do things because of his career that most can't imagine. I sat on the grass between two runways while he did touch and go's in a supersonic jet. I looked up from our back patio while he flew over the house so low that I would have sworn I could count the rivets if he'd only slowed down. LOUD. That was very loud. I stood in the cockpit while the jet did touch and go's. I've flown flight simulators, experienced in-flight vertigo, and I know what his symptoms of hypoxia are after seeing him in an altitude chamber. He made sure I understood the  controls, and the order of business so that if there was ever a need, I could land what we were flying. We've "lived a lot of places, done a lot of things, and collected a lot of stuff". I see a hashtag in there somewhere!

We dated for 4 years before we got married and today, May 27, 2017 marks our 39th wedding anniversary. As has been the case on several anniversaries, he isn't home. But I have high hopes that he'll make it before midnight. 

May 27, 1978

It's been a good life. I wish I could do it over again just for the fun of it!  I'm beyond blessed.

Intreat me not to leave thee,

or to return from following after thee:

For whither though goest,

I will go;

and where though lodgest, 

I will lodge:

Thy people shall be my people,

and thy God my God:

Where thou diest, will I die,

and there will I be buried:

The Lord do so to me,

and more also,

if ought but death part thee and me.

Ruth 1:16-17 

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