My Perfect Morning

As I was walking around campus this Wednesday morning, I thought of My Perfect Morning.  It is still June and is somewhat cool in the mid morning hours.  I wrote this five years ago when another morning walk on campus during June inspired this musing.

 

My Perfect Morning

The picture I had vision in high school was a not-so-fresh cut lawn (which was already raked of excess grass clippings).  I painted the sky a pale yellow, with a hint of a pale baby blue.  The sun is no longer on the horizon, but it is somewhere in the sky where it doesn't bother my eyes. 

When I walked this past week on the University of Utah campus, I remember that painting.  (I can't remember if I actually painted it or just visualized the painting)  Except this time, I feel the freshness of the morning.  I imagine the temperature to a bit warmer, because it my vision of a perfect morning, I am wearing short sleeves and a modest pair of shorts.  I picture myself being ten or twelve years old, but this time my red hair is just past my shoulders and not just to my chin. A white stretch cotton headband is keeping my hair out of my face. I've decided this morning takes place in the early summer, probably Memorial Weekend.  I am sitting on a park bench that swings; it has a canopy that invisible to the naked eye.  The sun is allowed to shine on my back and I am allowed to see the pale yellow sky with a hint of pale baby blue color lurking behind it.  My flip-flops are discarded on grass in front of me.  And maybe I have a good book in my lap.  (To Kill A Mockingbird or A Separate Peace).  If I am drinking something, it is a glass of juice, probably a combination of grape, apple and cranberry flavors.  I am at peace and just enjoying the moment.  It is quiet and no one else is around.  If my mom is up, she is the house, doing whatever she pleases.  My dad is out in the field, working hard and soon will come in for breakfast.  So I guess my mom isn't doing what she pleases, because she probably fixing breakfast.  This moment won't last long, because soon I will be called to eat, the sun will get higher in the sky and the day will get warmer.  The freshness of the morning will disappear and cares of the world will sneak in once more.  I will remember my perfect morning as I attend to all the daily demands of an adult.

Pat on the Back

I saw this postcard or whatever you want to call on Facebook. Sad to say, I laughed. But then I got to thinking about this postcard in a different light. At the first of the month, I attended a session on change while I was at work.  It inspired my first post for May. This month brought some changes, not so much in my own life, but in others.  This postcard began to take on a different meaning. Sometimes we have to take a big pat (shove) on the back to motivate us to change because it usually isn't what we want, but something that will make us a better person. But I have to admit, I like what a 13 year old Laura said thirty something years ago, ”Sometimes it would be nice to receive blessings that aren't in disguise."

Memorial Day

Memorial Day was first observed sometime in the 19^th century as a way to honor Union soldiers who had perished in the Civil War. It eventually came to be a day of observance for all those who died serving our country; I hope that includes the Confederate soldiers who died serving a nation that was temporarily divided.  In 1971, it was moved to the last Monday in May. It was until recently I noticed that Memorial Day was for those who died serving our country or died in the line of duty.

My first impression of Memorial Day was 1^st unofficial day of summer. In Minidoka County, school got out just before Memorial Day. I really didn’t know why Memorial Day was celebrated; I just knew it was a holiday. Our family didn’t visit the cemetery in Paul or any other city in the Mini-Cassia area. Mom prepared a picnic and we ate on the front lawn as we swatted and slapped away the flies who thought the feast was for them. After a few years in Salt Lake, I would hear people talk about leaving flowers on graves of family members on Memorial Day. I think I always knew that Memorial Day was day of remembrance, because I wasn’t surprised that visiting graves was an activity for this holiday.  Somewhere in my subconscious, my mother or one of my teachers told me what Memorial Day really was.  It wasn’t the1^st Official Day of Summer Vacation and isn’t National BBQ & Picnic Day.

I can’t think of anyone in my family, including extended family members who died while serving their country. My dad served in Alaska during World War II. His name is on a monument along a highway in Conejos County in Colorado. When my dad died, my cousin, Bryant showed up in his Marine uniform. Bryant’s brother, William also served in the military.  Bryant’s daughter, Courtney is active duty somewhere in the world. Quite a few of my high school classmates have served in the military. Uncle Charley and Great-Grandma Boice were the first relatives I remember passing on. My parents didn’t go to my mom’s grandma’s funeral, but they did go to Uncle Charley. I don’t really remember much of them and I am not sure if I had met them.  We lived in Idaho and they lived in Colorado and New Mexico. Gas wasn’t cheap then either and farming left no time for vacations.

The first relative’s passing that had an affect on me was my cousin, Edward, Bryant’s older brother. For a time, Edward and Bryant’s family lived in Blackfoot and we would visit when time allowed. A few months before Edward died; he came home from Ricks College with my brother, Mike. I saw a quieter version of my cousin. He was kind and thoughtful. This was the last time I saw him. So on this Memorial Day, I remember him and yes, I miss him. Edward was a good man. Since Edward; there have been others, my dad, my mom’s parents, some uncles and aunts, even another cousin.  My mom’s siblings are still living, but my dad’s siblings are gone, except for my Aunt Wilma, who married a Jackson. Each has touched my life. Uncle Herb was kind and taught me thru his example of how thoughtful and resourceful Japanese people are. My Aunt Isabelle was charitable person.  She opened her home to my mom’s sibling when my Grandpa Boice died.  Jackson’s are just like that. I miss Paul, even though I only met him as a child. He is teaching me understanding and to be non judgmental of others now.

So this Memorial Day, I remember those who have passed on, even if they didn’t serve in the military. They deserve recognition on this day.

Skylar & Applesauce

When my nephew, Skylar was 18 months old, Jay and I spent the week in Western Washington babysitting him and his brothers, while their parents were on a cruise somewhere nice and warm.  Laura had applesauce in the cupboard, which was one of my favorite breakfast foods. One morning I was holding Skylar in my lap while I ate my breakfast. I gave a spoonful to Skylar and then I took another spoonful. I might have given Skylar a few more spoonfuls. The next morning I did the same, but I had to give more to Skylar. Apparently he was to have every other spoonful. If I took a spoonful out of turn he let me know in no uncertain terms that I was out of line. When Laura and Bill got home from their cruise, I had to them that their baby was addicted to applesauce. Never let your sister babysit your wee one for a extended time. (see earlier post - Oh Peas No)

Return to Honor

On Friday when I was helping out at the Race for the Cure, I stopped by the Merchandise Booth, since I knew I would want to do some shopping.  I noticed the “Co-survivor pin” and I thought of my niece, Tracina. If anyone deserves that pin, it is her.  When my sister, her mom, Mary got breast cancer almost seven years, Tracina was there for her. Tracina just had her second daughter, Isabella at the end of March. My niece, along with other family members, was there at the hospital when Mary had her surgery to remove the cancerous tumor. Tracina helped take care of her parents and her siblings that October.  Quite a few pictures were taken during the time, but the one that says it the most (for me) is the one where Tracina is washing her mother’s hair. Because of the surgery, my sister could not lift her arms. What a wonderful way to honor her mother; to return the kind acts of service rendered in her behalf as she grew up.

A Mother's Heart

This morning I logged on to Facebook, I saw my friend, Jeannie’s post that made me pause when she wrote “Whether you have given birth, adopted, nuture the neighborhood children, are a step mom....if you have a Mother's Heart you are a Mother.” I thanked her for posting this, because it reminded me of my Aunt Gladys, who never had the chance to be a mother, but has loved and cared for her neices and nephews. This post prompted me to post something on my wall or timeline. ”To all the Aunties out there. Happy Mother's Day. I'm fortunate to have had my Aunt Gladys who never got the chance to raise a child of her own, but always looks after her nieces and nephews. She thinks of us in our times of need. She is there for us even when our moms are there for us too. Thanks for setting example of great aunthood, Gladys.”

Like Jeannie said Aunt Gladys has a Mother’s Heart. When Jay and I were buying our condo, she gave us words of wisdom. Aunt Gladys encourages us to do temple work by sharing her research with her neices and nephews. She was heart broken when our cousin, Paul suddenly died this spring. Aunt Gladys makes an effort to keep in touch with all (I hope) nephews and nieces. My brothers and I usually get a Christmas gift from her. I doubt we are the only ones who are remember at Christmas. We are the children she shares with our parents. Her example has taught me how to reach to my neices and nephews. Aunt Gladys lets me know that Mother’s Day isn’t just for Mothers who raised children, but all women who have cared for the children who have passed thru their lives. As Jeannie said “....if you have a Mother's Heart you are a Mother.”
*The picture is the brownie that all the woman in my ward got today. I believe that most women have a Mother's Heart* 

Crystal & Race for the Cure

In 2004, Crystal walked her first Race For The Cure. She walked for her Grandma Bee, who was a survivor.  When I told her brother, David that she was walking her 1^st 5K at the tender age of nine (she was actually two shy of being ten), he told me that I would have to carry her across the finish, if not most of the race. I picked up the t-shirts and bibs before the race. Crystal spent the night before the race at my condo and early the next morning we rode Trax. When we got to the Gateway, Crystal filled out her “I race in celebration of” and then had me pin her bib and card on the back of her t-shirt. She was walking for her Grandma Bee. I wore my bib in front and my cards in the back.  I was walking for Crystal’s Grandma too and my cousin’s neighbor who had been recently diagnosed with cancer. I was also walking in memory of Dixie Crystal, who was the reason I started walking the Race for the Cure years before.  About the time Dixie died of breast cancer, I got a pamphlet in the mail inviting to race in the Susan G. Komen (probably because I done the Salt Lake Classic).  Even though I didn’t wear a card at that time, I walked in her memory. Dixie was a teacher aid in high school and we grew up in the same ward. During the race I had Crystal call Grandma Bee on my cellphone and when we crossed the finish line, I had Crystal call David to tell him of her accomplishment.  Even when we got home, Mark, another brother, couldn’t believe she walked the whole 3.1 miles in less than an hour. I like to think that Grandma Bee got Crystal to the finish line, but then Crystal is no quitter. Besides, she had to prove all of her brothers wrong.

Crystal and I walked again the next year, but we didn’t walk together again until two years after that.  In 2007, Crystal not walked for Grandma Bee, but her Mom also. I walked for my sister, who just either finishing or just finished cancer treatments. When Crystal found her Mom was a survivor, she was bent and determined to run the Race for the Cure, but since Mom and most of her sisters were walking, Crystal had to walk the whole 5K. 

Due to a busy life, that was Crystal’s last Race for the Cure. She has since ran a few Salt Lake Half-Marathons and a few other races. But if she ever decides to do the Salt Lake Race for the Cure, I doubt her brothers will question her ability to run the whole 3.1 miles. After all she endured 13 miles.

Volunteering at the Race for the Cure

Today, I volunteered again for the Race for the Cure in downtown Salt Lake.  This year it moved to

Library Square

because it outgrew the Gateway, where it had been the last year. As I ate breakfast at McDonald’s in the City Creek Center, I thought about what got me started in as a race volunteer.  My first experience as a race volunteer was the Salt Lake Classic in Liberty Park. I was employed at Blue Cross Blue Shield of Utah and decided to get involved after hearing a ward member tell me what a good time she had when her family helped out a race that Blue Cross sponsored. Her dad worked in marketing at the time. Volunteering led to helping out at the Olympics in 2002 and eventually the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. I started volunteering at the RFTC after I started working for the University of Utah. By then the Salt Lake Classic was a thing of the past and I was looking for some service to do. Cheering on the marathon runners during the Salt Lake Marathon just wasn’t enough.

When I volunteered for the Salt Lake Classic, I usually worked in the refreshment area or the finish line, but when I walked the race, I either helped out with registration or pre-race activities. One year I helped out with post activity race. I stopped volunteering for the Classic when Blue Cross decided to help with the RFTC. But I never signed up for Team Regence (Blue Cross became Regence Blue Cross Blue Shield of Utah in the late nineties.) because volunteering met working during the race. My volunteering for the race involved raising funds for the Race for the Cure. When I started volunteering my time to RFTC, I worked in Team Packet pickup and the next week in registration. Then I became a regular in t-shirt pick up.

For the first time volunteering, I had to have a background check. Not because the venue had changed, but because I worked in Donations. There were only two of us working under a sign that read “Registration” and we both had to wear hot pink plastic paper bracelets, signifying we were okay to handle money. Our tent wasn’t set up due the rental company being late in delivering the tents, table and such. We never got our chairs, but I still had good time.

When I got done, I did the usual shopping for RFTC merchandise. I enjoy giving little things to my nieces who are related to survivors. Most of my nieces have participated in a Race for the Cure, even Bella, who rode in her stroller the whole 3.1 miles as very young toddler.

The Year I Grew

On December 26, 1979 I experienced a moment that defined the coming year. And yeah, my life hasn't been the same since.  My younger sister, Laura and I were involved in a car accident on State Street in downtown Salt Lake City. It was my fault, but lucky for all involved we all walked away basically unharmed. My car spent a month in body shop at Rick Warner in downtown Salt Lake City.
Soon after getting my car back, my dad died. Yes, it sucked losing my dad at 21 years of age. and I still miss him. But he is okay and I am basically okay too. 
A month later, I had another accident as I was driving home to Idaho. It spent another month in a body shop in the Mini-Cassia area. When I got the car back, I lost my job at Rick Warner. Yeah, that really sucked too. I got two weeks severance pay and a week’s worth of unemployment pay, which is a lot less than a week's worth of regular pay. I found another within the month, but I took a cut in pay. At least my new paycheck was more than what my unemployment check was. I did meet people in that job that I would not have met otherwise, so I did have doors of opportunities that opened for me. Somewhere in the drama of the changing career event, I found out my Grandma Boice had brain cancer. My mom went to LaJara, Colorado to take care of her parents. While she was there, my brother Mike took care of Jay and Laura, who were middle school age. Over the July 24th weekend of 1980, Mike drove his younger siblings and me to Colorado (but not Mary, who was raising a family in Washington state and Steven, who was on a mission.) We visited with my Mom and some of her family. It was sad to see my Grandma. She couldn't talk, but she could understand us. She had no hair. Before labor day, we all said good bye to Grandma. It had to be hard on my mom losing her husband and her mom in a six month period. I think she drew on the strength her mother taught by example.
When I was driving home from Christmas 1980, I heard Barry Manilow on the radio singing "I made it thru the rain" and it hit me. I made it thru a difficult year. I grew in unexpected ways. I had experienced trials before like death of a cousin, uncles and a neighbor before that awful year, but not this closely related. Looking back at that year, I realized at 22 years of age that I didn't want to go back to the life before December 26, 1979. Life before had it challenges, but none that had strengthen me like 1980 had. I learned what having faith was. And I am still learning about faith.
Now in 2012, I look back and I cry for the young adult who had to experience that difficult year. It wasn't fair, but that if life; it throws foul balls at the spectators. But I also look back at that young adult self and I realize I wasn't alone. My family, my friends, my church were supporting me in my time of need. I could not have faced that year without their love and support. I knew God was watching over me and loved me. Jesus had and still does wrap his arms around me. I have been blessed with a strength to carry on. My dad loves me still and so do my grandparents. There is hope in the midst of life's storms. (Sometimes the foul balls aren't that bad. A younger Jared got to keep one that hit him. The guy behind Jared thought it was only fair that he did and Jared thought it was awesome that he brought home that baseball.)