Day 12 – What Chore Do You Find The Most Challenging To Do?

note: this is part of #bloganuary where each day in the month of January, there is a prompt that we can write on.

Also, I am a day behind on this one and therefore did not meet my commitment of posting on the day of the prompt. In my defense, the internet went out yesterday. I will give myself a pass on this one.

This is going to sound odd, but I do not have chores per se. I also classify a chore as something that is loathsome and undesirable. For the most part we do not have “his and her” chores. Nor do I have a traditional “honey do” list. She is an incredibly strong and independent person.

She will also tell you that she can do everything that I can do, just better. Then she will say not really, but probably. HAHA

Because of this, it is difficult for her to ask for help. Why would she ask me, when she can just get it done herself. For example, one day, for no reason and without warning, she will just wake up, start pulling everything off shelves and out of cubbies and start cleaning. If I ask her what I can do to help, she will usually say nothing. I would help for sure if I had a heads up and knew that was the plan for the day. And what Dawn will tell you is that she may not know that she is going to clean until that morning. She just wakes up in “cleaning mood”. What ever that is.

However, If I am to think of one chore that I would turn down, it would be dusting. Which I know is part of cleaning. Now, I do not mind dusting the TV, the desks, the big items. I just do not want to dust all the nick knacks and collectables that we have out. UGH. The thought of picking up 100 tiny Gnomes, stuffed animals, pictures, house plants, and various items that Dawn has on display that makes our home amazing does not appeal to me.

I do know that the vacuum cleaner being left out is her way of asking for that to be done. She will strategically place it in the room she is “hinting” should be vacuumed.

Including dusting, there is not one chore that I would not, or have not done at the house. I typically clean the litter box and vacuum that area in the morning, she does it at night. On trash day, I am usually up before her and I take care of that.

But, here is the story of chores I want to share.

I did laundry for a number of years before Dawn. I did laundry when we were first married. However, I have been kicked out of the laundry room unless I have special permission.

Why? Well there are a number of reasons…………

See, I know that cloths need to be separated for the most part. What I learned once Dawn and I got married is that they need to be separated by specific colors, material, and the list went on.

What are specific colors? Great question, let’s take grey. I see grey as either the “darks” load, or the “whites” load. Makes sense to me. Apparently, that is wrong as I was instructed as much. But I digress…..

The final straw for her was when I washed my own work cloths from a week of construction. I took all my work cloths from the week, and put them in the same wash. Underwear, socks, jeans, and shirts of all colors and fabrics. It all just gets sweaty and dirty the next time and I am not trying to win a fashion show out on the job. I dump some detergent in and close the lid. Set it to warm and go. When they are done, I put them in the dryer and I am ready for the next week. Remember, these are my work cloths, what do I care. That was the last straw. She starts telling me that I have to separate colors, and material types. Not everything should go in the dryer, on and on. I was giving a list of things that for a number of years I did not know I was doing wrong.

Now, I was not quite as carefree with our regular cloths and especially hers. But here is where I was really schooled on laundry.

I did not know about all the bags that she has for the different garments that she wears.

A bag for this undergarment, a different bag for sweaters. UGH. And, I know that the washer has a bunch of markings on the dial, but seriously, I just go to warm, permanent press, and that is it. Oh no she says, you have to use the different settings. And, while I would just measure and dump in some detergent, she informed me that there is different detergent for the different cloths as well. What!

She tells me that the washer will perform a different job depending on the cloths that you have in there and that will help the cloths last longer. Whatever, sounds silly to me.

Now you can see why I am banned.

Unless, the cloths have been separated and I have been instructed as to which detergent is used, what setting to use, as well as the temperature of the water. Also, what does and does not go in the dryer. Then, I am permitted to wash cloths. But still there are items, especially the ones that go in those aforementioned bags, that she would rather me not wash. If I do, it is an emergency. Now, just because I do not wash them does not mean that I do not fold and move the clean laundry to the second floor. She figures I can not possibly mess that up.

I joke of course, I am not really banned. It has just been strongly suggested that I do other things and stay away from the laundry.

“Fine” I say, “I guess I will just go to the shed and separate and organize screw drivers.”

She does not understand.

“Babe, of course you have to separate them. Some are used for different applications and you have to have the right tool for the job so the they last.”

Hmmm, where did I hear that before…

Have a great Friday y’all

t.t.

Day 11 – How do you Define Success?

note: this is part of #bloganuary where each day in the month of January, there is a prompt that we can write on.

Oh my, this is going to be two days in a row and I do not have a definitive response for this. Like so many, I have spent time trying to achieve, to find success.

One of my personal successes is that I went back to college, in my forties, to finish my undergrad.

Huge success.

I have finished multiple 70.3 mile triathlons and marathons. Just being able to walk, limp, or crawl across the finish line is a success.

Dawn and I have been married 23 plus years and I written here on my pride of my family.

Immeasurable success.

There are plenty of people that have more money than I do. There are plenty of people that have far less. Here is what I do have, all the things that money can not buy.

Success.

The quote below by Albert Einstein really sums up my thoughts on striving for success:

“Try not to become a person of success, but rather try to become a person of value.”

I believe that if more of us worked to be a person of value, this view of success would make the whole world a much different place.

Peace out y’all

t.t.

Day 10 – Has a Book Changed Your Life?

note: this is part of #bloganuary where each day in the month of January, there is a prompt that we can write on. 

The really short answer to this is no. I am not an avid reader either. Although I did complete four books last year, the most I have read in a very long time.

Part of the issue reading, for me, is the noise that is in my head. I am sure that many can relate. It interferes with my focus and ability to concentrate on the book. I literally read a page, have no idea what I read, and have to re-read the page, only to realize that I once again became distracted with some random thought, or 30, and have to start again. UGH.

The good news is that much of the work that I have been doing to be present has helped, along with reading more consistently. This year I have committed to reading 12 books. Yeah me!

I do not have a favorite author or genre either. Although, if my blogging friend janetdthomas77 becomes an author, perhaps that will change. For me, whatever I read, I wish for it to be thought provoking. If I pick up a book and the intent is to tell me that what I am doing is wrong and I need to this instead, I will most likely dismiss it. When I read, I need to be provided space to sit with the material, in my world, and then reflect on the need for a change, shift, or just hold onto the information for future reference.

Also, I love to hold the book, turn pages, use a book mark. I am old school, no eBooks for this guy.

I like to read messages that do not align with mine. In other words, I would like to be educated in a way that provides information; facts that I can look into so that I can adjust my belief on my own. When I read, I want to grow. I do always have to be comfortable with the growth, I just like for the author to be coming at me from a place of honest education. I like to think that I am having a conversation with the author. In this way, I have an opportunity to learn, to grow, to take a situation and look into it from a different, thoughtfully presented viewpoint.

I do not have a book that has changed my life. But damn, if there was one, perhaps it was “Green Eggs and Ham”. I mean who has not been moved by a Dr. Suess book. And no, to all the wise cracks out there, that was not one of the four that I read last year. Seriously? …………………….. I read that two years ago. HAHA

Until tomorrow

May y’all be happy healthy and wise.

t.t.

Day 9 – What is The Most Memorable Gift You Have Received?

note: this is part of #bloganuary where each day in the month of January, there is a prompt that we can write on. 

I am going to begin by saying that I do not like to receive gifts. In todays ritual of gift giving, there is a pressure to “return the favor” and that it has to be “equal in value”. For this reason, until recently, I have not enjoyed receiving or giving gifts. More on that at the end.

As I began making notes for todays post, I also pondered that there are at least a couple of categories of gifts. Those that are spiritual in nature as in my amazing family, good health, grandchildren, public speaking, being able to write, etc. Then there are those more traditional gifts, things wrapped in paper or placed in ornate bags and exchanged.

For the purposes of this post, I will speak on gifts that are the latter of the two.

I know this sounds a bit like a cop out, but I do not have just one specific gift that is the most memorable. When I graduated from college, late in life, my wife bought me an amazing time piece and a watch box. I received many thoughtful gifts that day. Years ago, I was working with a client. I had only spoken to this person by phone over the course of the half year that we worked together on a project. He and his wife came into town and asked to take me and my wife to dinner. We did and he presented me with a bottle of bourbon as a thank you. The first batch from a friend’s distillery. It was really tasty by the way.

My late father in law presented me with a ring. It is not a fancy ring nor do I think it has traditional value. That was not the point. It was one that he really liked and felt that he wanted to give me, to show his appreciation for all that I meant to him. My mom has given us several family heirlooms and my dad, when I was building my tool collection, always made sure that he gifted me a power tool. Tools I still have and use to this day.

One of the most special gifts that I have are Christmas ornaments, given to me by my grandparents each year. When they were alive, my brother and I would open their gift on Christmas Eve and hang it on the tree. Just before my grandmother passed, she presented me with one of their favorite ornaments. It is a really old, peeled, and faded Santa Claus. Each year that Dawn and I decorate our tree with these ornaments, I open each one and it takes me back in time. Each box labeled with the year that it was given to me. As you can imagine, it is an elegant, eclectic mess. But it is beautiful in its own way. Each year the tree is covered with the memories of our lives.

Now, in full disclosure, for the past two seasons these have stayed in the box. We love our cats and they are part of the family, but there would be hell to pay if they had a love of climbing the tree and demolishing items that can never be replaced, along with the memories. Fortunately, the little trouble makers have not attempted to climb the tree and play with any of the plastic items that we have hung in place of our traditional ornaments. Even Loki, our bringer of Chaos, has not brought any havoc to our tree.

Taking a look at the items above, these are only some of what I can remember. The list goes from what could be precious and invaluable, to a simple thank you gift. But what all of them have in common is real honesty, gratitude, care, and love. They are simple and genuine. That is what makes them memorable.

For me, it is not the gift that I receive, it is the meaning behind it, the look in the person’s eyes when they present it. The genuine smile and excitement on their face when they see the joy that it brings me. I believe that over the decades, in our attempt to do better for the next generation, gift giving has become an exercise in who can outspend. If the gift is not expensive enough, clearly you do not like, love, respect, me as much as I thought. (shallow)

This past year, our family adopted two families who had children being treated for cancer. We had a secret elf and exchanged a $50 item with that person. The rest of the funds that we would have spent on trinkets and such, were spent making a difference. Dawn and I made ornaments this year for our two grandchildren. Our attempt to carry on the tradition that my grandparents had for us and that my parents had for our kids. Someday, when they are in their 50s, they too will be able to open one box at a time and instantaneously be transported to a memory.

For generations to come, our family will know the feeling of receiving memorable gifts.

May y’all be happy, healthy, and safe.

t.t.

Day 8 – How Far Back in Your Family Tree Can You Go?

note: this is part of #bloganuary where each day in the month of January, there is a prompt that we can write on.

I am excited about this prompt as I have two really interesting sides of my family tree.

I will begin with my moms side. There is a great story to tell, but in need of more research to get a clearer look at that side of my history. My grandfather was born and raised in Scotland. He came here with his mom when he was 16, or at least that is the age he claimed when they landed on Ellis Island. I did a very shallow search and found that there seems to be a discrepancy as to the year my grandfather was born. On one hand, he came to America, claimed his age to be 16, and that was it. On the other side, I found a birth record that initially seems to indicate that he was in fact born a year later. This would make sense. Back then, if he wanted to be able to work when he arrived in America, he would have to be 16 to do so. To make this more complicated, my great grandmother had an earlier son, who died right away. Both my grandfather, and the other boy were given the same name. More on this as I begin to research that side of my family.

On my dad’s side, it has been laid out already. My aunt, dad’s sister, has done the work. After years of research and countless hours at the library she has filled in several branches of our family tree. Two items of note. My dad has ancestry from the Isle of Man. It is always neat to see the surprise on someone’s face when I recognize the symbol for this country.

I am not sure all of the steps that led back to this. However, my aunt, the keeper of the tree, has traced my furthest ancestor to none other than, Daniel Boone. One of the early settlers of America. I have been to Boonesborough as a child without being aware of the heritage and it will be great to return there again with a different interest.

As with so many folks, I have a melting pot of history. I know that there is some English heritage in their as well. It really strikes me when I stop to think that I am second generation American on mom’s side.

One of our bucket list items for Dawn and myself is to travel to Scotland once I have done some more research and see if we can retrace some of the steps that my grandfather and great grandmother took.

Looking forward to reading your stories of your own family trees,

Have a great rest of the day,

t.t.

Day 7 – Write a Short Story or Poem about Rain

note: this is part of #bloganuary where each day in the month of January, there is a prompt that we can write on.

Well this will be fun. As I have seen a few others comment, I am also not a poet. I do not really like poetry, I do not understand it. However, improving my craft means taking the risk to explore the uncomfortable. Even if it is awful and just for fun. This is based on a trip Dawn and I took last month to a rural cabin. The photo above is from that day.

Here we go……

A Rain Storms Beautiful Gifts

The heavy rains came down on vacation day three.

Alternate plans for my wife and me.

A rainy day meant just staying put.

Enjoying each others company,

inside, some games, and a book.

Grateful for what would be revealed the next day,

as we traversed muddy paths under skies still grey.

Creeks filled with new drops, ebbing so strong,

I stand silent and listen to their babbling song.

Waterfalls alive, forty feet tall,

We stand at their base, amazed by it all.

Aside from the falls, there is nary a sound.

Just the beautiful remnants of rains that came down.

I gaze at the creeks and enjoy their gentle hum.

In wonder and I ask, where did you come from?

We stop and we look, for one final time.

Taking it all in, her hand in mine.

May y’all be happy, healthy, and safe

t.t.

Day 6 – Why do you write?

note: this is part of #bloganuary where each day in the month of January, there is a prompt that we can write on.

I had wanted to create and write a blog for a while. As I noted in an earlier post, It was less than a year ago that I created my first post. Right here during bloganuary.

What I have discovered is something that I did not see coming. I am not sure where this will ultimately end up, but currently this is what this past year has revealed to me, to why I write.

First, I truly enjoy telling a story. I have been writing speeches and presenting in front of audiences for several years. Being able to tell the story, verbally, and writing a story is different. As I learn to write my stories, I get lost in my thoughts, losing track of time as I tap away at my keyboard. It is one of the most amazing feelings, to be that focused.

When I begin, I start with paper, a blank sheet, void of character, voice. I jot notes by hand. A once blank sheet of paper now has lines of ink that become evidence of thought. I love how the words flow from my brain to my fingers, words tuning into sentences. Sentences into paragraphs, until the story is complete. I love my process, from thought to outline, to final copy. I can get lost in the process.

I write because I love the deep space in my brain that I did not know existed before this. The exploration of thought, looking for a different avenue of thought.

I write because I find a calm and peace when I do.

I write because, I have discovered I can.

Happy Friday Y’all

t.t.

Day 5 – What Brings You Joy in Life?

note: this is part of #bloganuary where each day in the month of January, there is a prompt that we can write on.

What brings me joy is two parts……

My family

Mom the matriarch, and because of that, the head of the family. She is in her 82nd year of life. She gets out of the house nearly every day to run errands that she could probably take care of in a single day (you know I’m right mom). She has really shown us what being involved with children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren is all about and the importance of being active. Mom embraces getting up every day,,,,

Our Kids. We have three that we blending into one family unit. It was not always easy, but we worked at it tirelessly. As a parent you do not always know for sure if the work you put in, the decisions you made, were the best for your kids. Sometimes it takes years. For us, our hard work paid off. Our teamwork paid off, and we have three really great kids that we could not be more proud of. Not because of the accomplishments they have made or the career path they chose. That’s the easy stuff. They are good people. They, have great partners. My role moved from parent, to coach, to mentor over the years. They look to me for advice. They are more than my kids, they are my friends.

My Brother and his wife have two kids. We do not spend as much time together as he or I would like. They live out of town and he works long hours and has a lot of responsibility with his company. I see his success and the kids that he and his wife have raised. They are good kids, a great family.

Dawn and I are in our 23rd year of marriage. I am not sure how she stuck with me this long. It has not always been easy. We did not start out as soul mates. There was a lot of turmoil at the beginning that we had to wade through. Well, I brought the turmoil and she agreed to wade through it with me. When we travel, we do not use navigation. She has the directions written down and communicates them to me at the appropriate check points. The hours of travel seem to just pass on by as we chat, jam tunes, (she also likes the radio turned up) and look for off the path coffee shops along the way. Now, she has capped road trips at 10 hours one way, but I am in negotiations for an extension. Our vacations are epic and fun, always. Our time working around our home is fun. We may not have begun as soul mates, but she is mine, she is my best friend.

Two Grandchildren, each will be two years old this year. Toddler grandchildren are the best. They are silly and you find yourself doing the silliest things with them. They find fun in everything. Watching them is amazing. Watching the amazement in their eyes of the most mundane things, it brings me to a smile and a pause. But watching my kids, interact with their kids. Watching my mom with her great grandchildren, watching Dawn with them too brings great joy.

The Fur Babies, Loki and Nakia. Have to include them. The god of chaos and the undercover agent. They are the silliest, most playful cats we have ever had. He is all Black and she is a muted Torte, and she is polydactyl. She has thumbs. From the moment they came in the house, we fell in love. Watching them interact, play, chase things in the yard,,,

That brings me joy (watching Loki catch chipmunks and carry them around, not so much joy) HAHA

I have found joy in my personal life too.

Public Speaking is for sure terrifying, but I love it. I get such a charge when I get in front of an audience, be it three, or three hundred. There is an amazing amount of energy that can be generated in a room. The feeling that I get when a planned joke is executed properly and the audience reacts with laughter and applause and joy. When I train a group of professionals and they tell me that they are excited to implement the training into their professional and personal lives. Knowing that I helped someone in some way is an amazing feeling.

Woodworking is something I restarted this past summer, making a learning tower for each of my grandchildren. I designed and built it from scratch. It was assembled using only dowels. From Pencil to Polish, it is my creation and watching my grandchildren play on them, knowing that this heirloom piece will be here long after I am. There is so much joy in that.

Remodeling is something that I have been doing most of my life. Currently working on our home, it is a prideful feeling when I finish a project and project manager, Dawn, is excited and happy with the results. Every time I walk past a completed project I can say I did that.

I have so much to be joyful for. I have so much gratitude for my life.

May y’all be happy, healthy, safe, and full of joy.

t.t.

Day 4 – What is a Treasure That’s Been Lost? Vehicle Simplicity

note: this is part of #bloganuary where each day in the month of January, there is a prompt that we can write on.

I really enjoy this exercise for this reason. I enjoy looking for the thought less traveled, at least for me I enjoy the brain exercise.

Simplicity is where my brain went this gloomy Ohio Morning. Specifically, the loss of treasured simple transportation. I have been around for many decades and have seen some amazing advancements. When I was younger, I was eager for technology. It was cool. I remember our excitement when we got our first push button telephone. When I was a senior in high school, our school got its first computers. I felt important carrying my first pager and when cell phones arrived and I got tired of waiting in line at a pay phone to return a message, I decided to be an early adopter of this really fantastic piece of technology. So many advancements have been made that are supposed to make life easier. But has it?

I am a car guy. I grew up being around the now classic Chevy Camaro, Ford Mustang, the Corvette. Work trucks with three on a tree or four on the floor and a floor shifter that operated the 4X4. At one point vehicles had the basics – heat, a steering wheel, four wheels, and a motor. That was it. My first car was a 1981 Honda Civic, manual transmission and a radio. I had so much fun in that car. I never had an 8 track player in my car, but I remember when the 8-track to cassette tape converter came out and how cool you were if you had one. Then single CD players, multi-disc players housed in another part of the vehicle. After market radios with remote controls….

I had one of those and I remember Dawn being very vocal about how ridiculous it was that I had a remote for a radio that I could just reach over and operate. Whatever, I’m just cooler than you. HAHA.

In 1983 or 84, my mom and dad bought a new car, a Volkswagen. I remember how mad dad was that he had to have air conditioning because he wanted the diesel engine. All through the 80’s, a/c, power windows, even having an AM or AM/FM radio were usually options that you could choose to pay for.

Now, I am that guy that loves to jam tunes , sing loud with the windows down, play air drums, so to not have an upgraded radio in my vehicle would not be a consideration.

When you bought a car, you went in and negotiated a price. I remember when mom and dad bought the above vehicle and dad actually passing paper back and forth with the sales rep as each wrote a counter offer until an agreement had been reached. The car was simple, it got you from point to point, and you were off. Now, I know that upscale brands had more options in those days, but for the working class person looking for reliable transportation, the vehicles were simple.

Oh, but not any more. In 2017, Dawn purchased her second Honda Civic. Her previous was a 2003, 5-speed, AM/FM stereo, a/c, power windows, and a sunroof. It was simple and for nearly 250,000 miles it got her reliably from point A to B with minimal repairs and the original clutch. She decided, for obvious reasons, to buy another. This was also a manual transmission, this time a 6-speed. But to get the few options that she wanted, it required a package that included an upgraded radio. When we went to the dealer to pick up her new whip, the sales rep spent 45 minutes explaining,,,,,,,, just the main elements of the infotainment system!

Yes, the box in the center of the dash that used to play music in her pervious car, now runs her car. There are few buttons, but most operations are accessed via a touch screen. The buttons have been replaced with a variety of menu options that in some cases lead to more options. UGH. If I want to change the intensity of the fan, it is safer to have a co-driver that can operate the temperature control system or select music. Talk about distracted driving. And I know that many of you are in the same boat. I see new vehicles where the entire dash is basically a video screen with multiple displays. I just need to see how fast I am going and if the components of the vehicle are operating appropriately. Oh, and the radio needs to be really loud too.

This is all really cool stuff, things that my generation only saw in movies or spy shows. I think of early James Bond, Get Smart, or Batman with all their gizmos and gadgets.

For me, I miss the simplicity of driving my vehicle. I even miss having to take hot water out to the car in the winter to pour over the drivers door and key hole so that I could get in, hoping that the door mechanism did not freeze in the open position. Power door locks were not standard either. In fact, I was amazed just a few weeks ago when I saw a young person use the key to get in their vehicle. I do love the steering wheel controls that allow for drivers to keep eyes on the road. In my 2017 Ram truck, I can hit a button and ask to adjust the temperature or make a call. However, mine is a simpler vehicle too with actual buttons that I can just reach over and feel to make adjustments.

Back in the day, we knew where all the buttons were and which one did what. We did this by feel. If I wanted to change the temperature, I could simply feel my way to the temperature slide mechanism. There were only five presets on my radio and the buttons were huge and distinct. In the snow, we did not have all wheel drive or traction control. No, you had to know how to rock your vehicle out of the snow if you were stuck. Today, if I want to rock my truck, I have to find the button to turn of the traction control and give back the control I need to move. I am fortunate that my truck has a single button for this. For Dawn, it is buried in, you guessed it, the infotainment system.

I miss simplicity, and I love technology. I am torn.

Simplicity is the treasure that I miss, however. I find myself craving it more and more. Dawn and I pass through Amish country from time to time and I always wonder if I could live that simple. On some days, I say yes, let me go back to heating my home with wood, hanging cloths on the line and playing games with the family and not on the TV. This past Christmas however, I am not sure that taking my horse to the store, when it is 30 below is something that I would be particularly happy about. I would just opt to have groceries delivered. Wait, no phone! Drat!

Well Batman, I guess I will just tap a button on my watch, that starts my truck, warms it, and drives itself to the front door so that I do not have to be in the cold too long. I guess complicated technology may have a place. Either way, it is here to stay.

Knowing that this reaches so many different countries, with varying technology in vehicles, it will interesting to see the comments.

May y’all be happy, healthy, and safe.

t.t.

Day 3 – What Is The Earliest Memory You Have?

note: this is part of #bloganuary where each day in the month of January, there is a prompt that we can write on.

I am going to be interested in reading what others have to say on this and I would love some feedback from all of you as well.

I write this in honor of my dad, who left us, and all possible memories since his death way too soon.

I am not sure what my earliest memory is. I will be celebrating my 56th year of life in May.

feel free to put that in your calendar and send me a gift, I like bourbon FYI

As the years go on, more and more seems to get distorted. The timing of memories is one of those things. For my 50th birthday, Dawn put together a memory book, in it were photos from years ago that she gathered with the help of my mom. One of those photos is above. That’s right, that is me (on the right) and my brother not doing a very good job of hiding. Some of these photos jogged my brain and took me back in time. Some are pictures of me captured in a moment that I do not recall. Like the one above. I would not have remembered many of them had it not been for those photos.

My childhood was complicated with incidences of being bullied, mentally tormented, and teased once I hit school age. The body has a way of protecting itself. Blocking out harmful events from the brains memory banks is one of those powerful tools. It seems that not only does it block memories that are harmful, it blocks out entire spans of time. Because of that, I do not have any vivid memories until I was in what I think was pre-school or perhaps kindergarten.

Even though I do not have a clear timeline of early memories that I can call up to share with you, I do have some fantastic memories that I do remember from early in my life. Some of which are going to create tears. Sorry Dawn and Mom.

One of my earliest memories, I think, is following behind my dad as he mowed the lawn. I had a toy lawn mower and I can see, even now, my dad in front of me, doing his work, and making sure that I was doing my “work” too.

My brother and I were born almost exactly three years apart. I do not remember him being born or any of the events surrounding his birth. I hear from others that have a similar age gap and they remember their younger sibling coming home from the hospital. Perhaps it was the era, perhaps it was just something that I have buried deep in my memory.

We grew up in a schoolhouse that was built in 1885. Up in the attic there was some old stuff and I can remember going up there and just looking around. Our house sat across the street from a farm. In fact, the farmer’s wife was a teacher years earlier when my home operated as a school. Growing up in the country, my brother and I were left to make our own fun, or our own mischief, depending on the day. We did not have much and my dad had worked out an agreement with the farmer that if we helped with some of the chores on the farm, we could receive a discount on the the beef and lamb. What this really meant was that dad intended for my brother and I to work the farm in order to “learn valuable lessons”. HAHA

Because of that, the farm was just an extension of our home and my brother and I would often wander over there and play. There was a hay slide that traveled from the hay loft above to the stalls below. Over the 100 plus years, and I am figuring thousands of hay bales being shucked down, it been smoothed out and shined to a glassy finish. My brother and I would spend hours trying to walk up the slippery wood surface just so that we could turn right back around and slide down. With it being right across the street, the only rule was that we had to be home for lunch. Remember, no phones, no texts. Instead, we had a big school bell in the front yard that could be heard for quite a distance. When it was time for lunch, Mom would ring the bell and we would head home. After lunch, if we were bored with the slide, we would climb the big maple tree in the front yard across the street or perhaps the giant pine tree in our yard and challenge each other to hang drop.

One specific memory I have, and I know we were pretty young, is that my brother and I challenged each other to go out and get the paper for Mom and Dad. It would have been a weekend, probably a Sunday morning, as Dad typically did not work on that day. This was not a simple challenge. It was winter and there was at least a foot of snow. To make this more fun, we had to stay in our pajamas and the paper box was across the street. We made it to the paper box successfully but a car was coming and for some reason we had to hide from the car. I think we were pretending to be on a secret mission. So in our pj’s, in a ditch, in a foot or more of snow, we had to crouch down behind the wind row of plowed snow on the side of the road. I am not even sure that we had shoes on but I remember he and I running back in the house to successfully deliver the paper to Mom and Dad, still in bed. I am not sure that they were thrilled with our challenge.

I remember going to the grocery store with Mom, Country Counter it was called. A small store just down the street from us. At that time, they had free coffee for shoppers and it was my job each time we went to the store, to get Mom her coffee. She drinks coffee black so it was pretty simple. I can still envision the counter where the coffee was.

On rainy days, there were no video games and I am not sure that Mom would have let that go on for too long anyway. And TV, we had 3 channels that came in when the rabbit ear antennas were aimed just right. Instead, I can remember moving the furniture to make forts or my brother and I would set up feet of hot wheels track up and down the furniture.

My dad usually worked long hours and I remember Mom always having dinner ready and us kids helping set the table. We always ate as a family regardless of what time we sat down to eat.

I do have early memories, however, my brain is a bit scrambled. From years of memories, from suppressed memories, from blocks of missing time. I do not know when these events took place, only that they did. I do not know how old I was. I’m not sure that matters.

I suppose that we have a choice with memories. If you are especially critical or a person who focuses on the bad of each situation, you will find the bad in everything. I know that I do, or did, with my personal experiences. Assuming that is true, would not the opposite also be true? That we can find the positive in almost anything. My memories, just like yours, are our interpretation of what we remember. If we choose to remember the bad, for whatever reason, that will shape not only that memory but could influence our ability to look at each memory as an individual event instead of a much larger body of work that it may not belong to. I am spit-balling here but it seems to make sense.

I do know this, despite some of the memories that I have long forgotten or suppressed. Despite the early trauma that bullying had on my mental development, I had a fantastic childhood. A childhood filled with imagination, made up fun, a simplicity that even when Dawn and I were raising our three kids who are now in or near their 30’s, just does not exist. Memories that instilled the values that I have today, that Dawn and I have passed on to our kids. And that they can pass to theirs. Memories that will last and help solidify our family legacy for generations.

tommy t