The Bon Bon Club 1985 to 1987 ~ part 1

     My body was swollen with child when we moved into the house on Bridge Road.  I was almost seven months pregnant and useless when it came to moving unless you call pointing to where a box was to be put.   My ankles were swollen and if I laughed I potentially would pee in my pants.  I cried easily and often before, during and after our move and wondered what kind of personality my unborn child would have with such an emotional mommy.

     We had bought this wreck of a house that needed much work, just the type of house my Love and I could buy to fix up and eventually sell with a profit.  I however, was wanting a home and was willing to settle for this sad house knowing that my Love would make it a place that would become a home.  Because a house is just a place that you can see in any neighborhood but a home is where we can nest and fall in love all over again.

     When we brought the families over to see our new home I saw the look on my mom's face that fell like a souffle.  My father believed in my husband and his family always believed in him  knowing his construction abilities.  Of course my mom was already bothered with me for being pregnant with my third child.  I had upset the "apple cart" by having one more child.  How would three fit into her Mercedes Coupe, I projected of her thoughts.

     The house was tri-leveled, old and neglected.  I believe the previous owner had died and I hoped that he or she did not die in the house owing to my belief in the supernatural.  Upstairs in the future nursery and our master bedroom were wide cracks starting from the middle corners of some of the walls reaching towards the ceiling.  Our bedroom had french doors with a faux balcony and his and her walk in closets.  The kitchen had no disposal let alone a dishwasher with dingy painted cabinets, but on the bright side it was large and had a breakfast nook.  The living room had a charming fireplace that at last I could place Arleen and Clark's andirons they had given to us several years before.  There was a bonus room on the lower part that would be perfect as a playroom for our daughters multitude of toys.  The backyard was tiny but the swing set my Love had built would fit.

     Prior to our moving in we painted, scoured and scrapped wallpaper, and did deep cleaning of the bathrooms and kitchen, leaving our two girls at their Grandma's home since it was close by.  It was especially appreciated of her always having a hot meal for my Love and I when we were done working.   My Love had rented a steamer for us to attempt to get the horrendous wallpaper off the walls.  Yes, there I was on a step stool, holding the steamer plugged into the wall with an extension cord while it emited hot humid steam,  with my huge belly having Braxton Hicks contractions  and trying to be as careful as I could not to fall.   I was mad at the former owner for putting this paper on only to find another layer underneath.  Some days I would go alone and  I would cry in this house while I went up and down, over and over to attempt to peel off the wall paper, wondering if this was the best we could have found for us to live in.  I was overwhelmed by a move while this far into my pregnancy and feeling bereft of my mom and her attentions.

     I don't know what the neighbors must have thought of our comings and goings.  We took our time fixing and cleaning and the day of our move felt like a tornado had dropped our belongings there.  Since I couldn't pack like I would have the organization of what were in boxes was not done.  My brother by marriage and father by marriage assisted with the move and toys were throw into boxes like we were running out of town on a fast escape.  Once again I sat on the floor crying in our new home, trying to find the doll that my little E. wanted and was afraid didn't get moved.   Moving is hard on children who just want to see their belongings and feel secure.  I prayed my dishes didn't get broken with every box that was dumped on the floor.  

     To welcome ourselves to the neighborhood my Love and I had a garage sale.  What better way for the neighbors to get to know us than by seeing what we were getting rid of!  My Love and I sat on our camping folding chairs while kids rode by on their bikes, back and forth, their curiosity finally driving them down our deep driveway to check us out.  And really, that is how we all got to know each other.  It was the kids who met us first, followed by my first new neighbor girlfriend- to- be  Janice.  She had three kids, one our oldest daughters age and two boys.  And with that our house became a home.

 

Gifts from the box

Those cleaned hankies and my Nan's nurse's cap...yes, I said I was able to get all the spots off.  I did, but some have come back...oh well.  I am just as happy to have them at all.   

To you my Nan....just because.  I love you.

B is for "Bebe" my Nan's nick name

Hearts for someone who was so full of love

Dainty....

G is for "Gilmer" her married name

 

Nan's Hankies and Nurse's Cap

     The boxes are emptied, the photos in piles.  I've gone through the newspapers and clipped what I felt I would keep and tossed the rest.  My dining room table is still in a disarray but what a treasure hunt!


     That box that said "Bebe" on the side, the one that had the oddest collection of my Grandmother's, my Nan's belongings is the one I hoped to find and I did.  It didn't contain all that I wanted but I found the photo I was looking for in another box and that put a smile on my face and heart.  My Nan in her nurse's uniform.  You see my Nan was a public nurse.  I had heard she would go to folk's homes to tend to them when they were ill, driving her car to where they lived.  All by herself with no doctor, on quiet country roads.   Perhaps she even did a bit of midwifery for the country ladies.  Later she worked in hospitals as a Surgical Nurse.  I would love to have heard her stories of those times.  I think she tended folks too poor to see a doctor as a Public Nurse.  My Nan had such a good bedside manner.  I never really minded being sick as she would bring me my meals on an aluminum tray as I was propped up in my bed with pillows.  She took my temperature and kept me comfortable with all the love a Grandmother could give as well.  

     What I didn't expect to find was her Nurse's cap.  Still stiff with heavy starch.  It was spotted with a rusty color all over it and smelled of that musty odor that my nose wrinkled up too.  My Nan's cap.  Those were the days of the white cap, white uniform dress, white hose and white shoes.  She was a registered nurse that was given much respect by her peers.  She had years of experience.  


     I took that cap and brushed it with my special mix of hydrogen peroxide mixed with powdered Oxy Clean to make a thin paste.  I let it sit all day and then soaked it all night in a bowl of cold water and Woolite.   The next day nary a spot was in sight.  My Nan's cap pure white.  Tomorrow I will press it stiff just as she would have.  She would have put in on her head with hair pins to hold it in place for her hours of work.


     I found a pile of hankies, equally spotted and stained.  I did the same with them as the cap.  No spots to mar them.  Each different and dainty.   I can't say that I saw her use them all the time but I know she used tissue that she would tuck in the sleeve of her sweater to dab her nose.  I wonder if I gave her one of these hankies that I have in the pile?   The one with tiny red hearts around the edge?  The one with little flowers of blue?   Just the kind of gift a little Granddaughter would give her Grandmother.


     That box contained an old bra, a girdle, two pair of hose, two slips with one of white and one black, and a pair of her glasses in a gold cardboard box with a pink paper flower on top.  Why my mom saved her under garments I do not know and I never will.  My daughters were intrigued by these relics.


     As I attempted to make order in my dining room by separating the stuff I had trashed into recycle and garbage boxes, I came upon some wad of paper stuck to the bottom.   I don't know what made me try to get this out but I did.   It was unrecognizable of what it was, a foot long and a smashed roll of stiff paper with some rot on the bottom that was black.  Not good.  I tried to open it without success as I could see that it was more than just one paper.  I don't really know why I even kept trying but I gently rolled it between my palms and low and behold a seam opened.  I was able to unroll it and what I found was my Grandmother's Nursing credentials.  Two of them from 1925 from the school she went to in Tennessee!   How did they wind up so smashed up?   Why weren't they in a frame or rolled in a tube?  All those years buried at the bottom of a rotting box and I just happened to give that box one more look before I took it out to the garbage.  


     I don't know why I have become the custodian of the family treasures.  I do think I was destined for this though.  I am the keeper.  The older I become the more protective I become of what was "special" long ago.  I don't know what will become of what I so eagerly try to archive but I will take all the care in the world to help it find a safe spot of honor while I breath in this world. 

A family in mourning

She left her home on Monday with a bright red sweatshirt on, riding her bike and went to school.  She didn't stay but got on a Bart train heading to San Francisco.  A photo of her exiting the station shows her with her bike, wearing earphones for an iPod.  The last image of a beautiful young woman.

What happened to Allison?  What triggered her to leave with the intent to end her life?  I am torn up inside with the questions.  She was 15 years young the same age as my son.  She felt she had no friends is what my son heard.  They went to different high schools in our town, he didn't know her.  My son tells me this as we drive home from school today.

I want to hug my son but I am driving the car in the crazy school traffic outside the campus.  I tell him what he already knows, that he can talk to his dad and I anytime about anything.  That we love him so very much.  That he is loved by all his family.  


Allison left a trail.  I want to believe she wanted to be found and did not want to end her life, for why ever else would she have done this?  On her computer it showed directions from the Dublin Bart station to the Golden Gate Bridge.  Her bike was found, locked, in the Presidio area in San Francisco near the Golden Gate Bridge.  She left a suicide note at home and was considered "at risk".  Was she "at risk" before or because of the note?


They know she went onto that bridge because they have found footage of this on the two cameras at either end of the bridge.  She never walked off.


So now her family waits for the discovery of her body.  The pain they all must be feeling.  The pain Allison must have felt to plan her last day, her last moments.  


I have never been so sad or depressed to feel that I can not live in this world any longer.  I can't know that pain.  I only know that I wish that she could have been helped to know she was loved.  That she had a full life ahead of her.  She was in sports and will be missed by her teammates.  She will never get to go to Junior Prom or the Senior Ball.  She will never graduate from High School or go to college.  Never travel, never explore.  She will never find the love of a soul mate or have children of her own to love.


I hope that in the sweet hereafter Allison is being held in loving arms.  Surrounded by those who will let her know how loved she is.  I hope that her family are surrounded by loving arms as well because their deepest pain has only just begun.


Today started off rainy and grey and they gave way to blue skies and puffy clouds flying by.  The green leaves on the trees dancing and swaying in the gusty wind.  How can life be so beautiful but not beautiful enough?  Oh Allison I am holding you in my arms and wanting to sooth your troubled brow.  I want to rock you and let you know life is more than precious.  It is more than words can say. 





 

Clearing the head

My doggies and I had a lovely gentle hike yesterday.  Blue skies with a gentle breeze.  There is nothing like a walk in nature to clear ones head!  Just some photos so share and a short video of  what we saw.

The birds were singing, the once green grass is slowing drying out into the golden brown grass of a California summer.  We saw a lot of cows.  Young ones I would say, all lazy and not eating the grass that is so bountiful.  Maybe they have had there fill for that time of day.

Annie and Stewie doing the "doggie pant".  Oh do they love a walkie!

Me too needing some sun on my pale winter skin.  I love where I live!






Walking with the poochies from Ellen F. on Vimeo.

Mmmmm comfort food...

Comfort food....oh today I need comfort food.  I have no idea why curry gives me comfort.  I am not Indian or Thai yet the aroma of curry and coconut has this way of making me feel hugged.  I love to wake up the next morning still with the aroma of these two scents in my home.

I am sharing a wonderful soup that spells comfort out so well.  C-o-m-f-o-r-t...try it and tell me if you feel the same way.....

Curried Carrot Coconut Soup

2 T butter
1 small onion (I like a sweet one)
2 garlic cloves, pressed or minced
4 tsp curry powder or paste
1 tsp kosher salt, (not table salt!)
2 lb. organic carrots, chopped
4 C good chicken broth
2 cans (15 oz each) coconut milk
1/2 C plain yogurt, homemade preferably


1.  Melt butter in a large soup pot over medium high heat.  Cook onion, garlic, curry powder, and salt until fragrant, stirring often, about 2 minutes.  Add carrots and broth and cook, covered, until very tender, about 12 minutes.

2.  Puree soup until very smooth, using a blender and working in batches.  Stir in coconut milk and heat until hot.  Serve in bowls of soup with a dollop of the yogurt on top.

Breathe in the lovely smell of curry and coconut and r-e-l-a-x.......

The best parts of Mother's Day for me

I had a baby in my house for this weekend, my 9 month old great-niece E.

To hear the sounds of a baby in the morning was music to my ears and to my Love's as well!

She was here with her mommy and daddy to come and see her Great-Nana for the first time and we all had such high hopes for this.

This is my nephew K. with E. riding high on her daddy's shoulders.  Safe and secure as she tugs his hair.  My nephew who grew up from the little boy playing rough and tumble with his brothers.  He is a wonderful daddy, this I can see.  He is "hands on" as they say and I think of my Love and I in our first year as a mommy and daddy with our daughter K.,  our first child.  So much to learn about each other.

Her is E. with her beautiful mommy R.  Look at those smiles....

Miss E. with her daddy and my Love...oh he was so happy to play with a baby! 

Then there is E. and me.  Do I look happy or what?

My middle daughter E. came with a yummy, delicious, multi-layer cake that had a raspberry filling between the layers of the most moist white cake with a hint of lemon flavor topped with a lighter than air frosting that she torched!  Great fun to watch her handle a blow torch of my Love's.

My youngest daughter is in Rome so sadly we will not have her around...miss you M...knowing you must be seeing such wonderful places and delicious food.

These words that from a letter my daughter K. that she sent to me...just a snippet from what she wrote,  that touched me deeply....


I am grateful for the womb I inhabited in your body. I know it was a good place, being there with you. It was there that I began, dreaming. It is there I return, in Bret's arms while sleeping, in the forest under an embracing tree, in a hot bath that steams my being to stillness.

"I'm thankful

I'm grateful

To Spirit

To be alive"

I rained blossoms of compassion onto you tonight.
I sang a poem to you tonight.
I held you like you have held me a thousand times.