SHIRLEY MAE, surely may be an angel.

It has been months since I have written. But now, it is time to savor the the friendship of one that died. Let's reflect on her funeral.


Her name was Fanny Cosby; she was one of many who wrote songs of praise at the turn of the century. To many of us, those became hoe down songs at family gatherings when everyone sang while Bob played guitar and/or Dorothy played the piano. Simple times and precious memories. Harmony, the purest kind.
Today, the pianist played all those old songs before the funeral. The words were in the Seven Day Adventist Hymnal just like they must have been in the Mission Covenant hand book. If one didn’t know these songs and were around the Anderson family, you soon would! All the verses. All. Just remembered the music being kicked up a notch.
Shirley was dressed in a maroon top. Her nails were beautifully painted. Last time I saw her in the real, she had long hair, it had been cut and curled and was so cute on her almost impish face. The family who knew her and saw her daily were very pleased at how nice she looked. Her casket was light blue and the cascade of flowers were colorful and mixed. Her friend, Linda remembered Shirley wanting to be buried in a purple shirt and a straw hat with flower. Knowing the inner secret, Tom wore a purple tie.

There were folded notes in the casket with her. I was hopeful someone would share what they said. Many times, the letters are read out loud. What was in the letters where truly personal between Shirley and the writer. Perhaps they were shared the night before at the prayer service.

Dr. Bray read the history, which was the obituary. He talked about the pain he had inflicted on Shirley. He had done her surgeries. He didn’t quite make it to the humor line OR is typical in Northern Minnesota, too stoic or it was an inside joke. They had known each other since 1968. I wanted to turn around and look for his wife, Lois. She had taken Shirley to Fargo a few times and is a grand lady. We would step into the gym near the church later to say hello.
Before the service, the minister, a mid-fifties man with half glasses on the tip of his nose, read a poem Shirley had written in 1981. It was to do with attitude. He could have stopped right there; she had made her point. Maybe there is something to be said about writing one's own good bye. Maybe there is something about having the last word. Oops, that isn't what funerals are. Maybe they should be.

The sermon was based on John 11:1-45. The question to all of us was: Are you in a difficult trial? Do you feel like God is delaying much too long to answer your need? Do you trust God even in the delay? Remember the story of Lazarus. Your situation could not be any worse than his! Trust that God must have a purpose for your trial, and that he will bring glory to himself through it. I wondered if there would be an altar call, there was not.

After singing In the Garden followed by prayer, the casket, followed by family was dismissed. Keith and the pall bearers walked behind to the hearse the ‘helped’. Most certainly her grand children will not forget ‘helping’. Bridget seemed enveloped in her long, black velvet-like dress standing next to the hearse. Actually, amidst all those people all I remember seeing her sad eyes. What a precious child she is, as are the rest of Shirley’s grand children. Brenda said that she and her dad stayed up very late last night talking. He stated how lucky he was to have his kids and grand kids so close. They truly are a family with strong, loving ties to one another.

Shirley had a lot of friends from her life walk. Everyone I spoke to only had great things to say about her. We watched the supporters mingle around the family, truly, this is a community to be envied.

Loving thoughts to all.

ON THE THIRD PITCH, HOME RUN

Love the lady with all my heart
Love that lady with all my heart
Love the next one with all my heart.

Blessed.

Old Trunks flew high enough when I talked with Soozi.

Even higher when Mary Ann called.

And up there with the Blue Angels when Barb came to town.

WOW.

How hard her friend laughed when we told her about beating up on a guy who broke into Barb's house and cooked steak. Armed with leather quirts, used to convince horses to move, we beat the crap out of him in the movie theater. And we laughed.

And Barb told me about her grand daughter and how the stud horse and her had a relationship that neither of us never had. We shivered at the magnificent friendship.

And then Barb hit the road in her red short bed truck and I left in my yellow short bed truck.

Friendship. Phone calls or visits, all time disappears between visits.

Never out of step.

Thanks, Soozi, MaryAnn, and Barb.

e

MESSY SOCK DRAWER?

Old Trunks thinks people take drugs to think up ideas to allow people to judge themselves. Honest.

Does it really matter what state your sock drawer is in? The article states that the most orderly people have the messiest sock drawers. How about yours? What is the state of the affair of the drawer?

Since I can't really tell the different between dark navy and black anymore nor can MST, we have a system; black to the back whether it be slacks OR socks. It works.

For now, I think I will go stir up the sock drawer and call myself organized!

e

ANITA, WHERE ARE YOU?

Old Trunks had a flash this morning. She remembers a person she met in grade school who would be a best friend for a few years. We went to confirmation together. Her name was Anita. She was born on this day.

She was the kind of a friend that would buy matching red and green plaid pants. Oh my, they were so ugly. Mother was right, once you wore them, everyone knew you had them!

She was the kind of friend who would to to S & L store and try on hats until the clerks closed in on us.

She was the kind of friend that would shave her bony legs, only to see the blood run from her ankle to her knee and I befriended by putting toilet paper on her leg so her mom would not know. Yea, right her mother never missed a thing.

I stayed at her house one night. In the morning, he Dad went to his business with American Breeder's Association as an artificial inseminator. Mother was dropped off at the laundry when she ironed white dress shirts.

While they were gone, Anita and I decided to bake a cake. But we left the house while it was baking and the cake burned up. We threw the pan in the woods and opened the window. Just how she knew the pan was in the woods, we will never know. Certainly the house smelled charred. I think we decided to take her uncle's car for a driving lesson.

In about eighth grade, she and I would dress for the day and change clothes once at school. Why did we start that? Mrs. Pound, the Home EC teacher made fun of Anita's clothes, the two of use where going to get past in. My wools were lined, they hung better. But still that nasty old women said Anita needed to wear a girdle. For crying out loud we were just 14 or so.

She would marry at 15 and we didn't see much of each other after that. I do remember picking her up in Ragdoll and riding around. The sun was i her daughter's eyes while another friend held the baby. Anita wanted the baby turned, friend said, "She has a bone in her neck she can turn her head".

She had become a mother. She grew up. She didn't play silly games like we did.

Happy Birthday, Anita.

e

BEST OF GADGETS

When I asked my sweet Thomas what he thought the best ten gadgets ever, he had to have more information. The did a broad brush, that is, all electricity was lumped together, all computer like gadgets were lumped together. He wanted to hear combustion engine was in the top ten.

It made for a lively discussion that went bump somewhere. Maybe I should say belly up.

Because to him the light bulb, (10) was part of electricity. Cell phones and computer (numbers 1 and 5), were lumped together.

And what was the deal with the alarm clock, (9) even being on the list?

The rotary telephone (7) didn't belong on the list.

How could radio (2) be higher than TV (3)?

He did agree much of the southwest did come to be populated because of air conditioning (6).

There was no comment about the syringe (4) being on the list.

He was certain the people who did the list must be very young. But they weren't honest. The program went on to explain there is a trend toward phonograph (8) records returning. The alarm clock was on the list because for the first time, people had a way of getting up and to work on time.

As for the radio being more rel event than TV, it stated people listen to the radio in their cars.

The smart phones which began just a few years ago with the applications are deserving number one. On any given day, whether it is someone walking past our house or someone sitting on a dock at the lake, phones are in use. People use them in the cafe while eating; as that couple talking to one another OR are they talking to different people.

How many man hours are spent at work with people having private conversations, including texting? How many people are checking messages on company computer?

I don't mean to sound like I came over on the Mayflower but when I hired on at a durable medical company I asked in the interview if my son could call to check in when he got home from school and the owner did not answer right away.

Is it instant life? What is your gadget status?

e

HOW DO YOU WRAP A SANDWICH?

Recently an aroma triggered the site of the lunch room in the old Washington Grade School. It was in the basement. The odor was of wax paper and old milk. Bleck. I can see that dingy room with desks as tables in a not so straight row. Years later, we would have our lockers in that room and it still smelled the same. Perhaps it wasn't the lunch room at all, rather, just a basement.

I thought about the lunch box and how the sandwich was wrapped in wax paper with the fold at the bottom in the bottom of the lunch box. Insulated bottles may have started the year but one forlorn day, many of us would hear the clinking of the glass liner in our not so cold milk.

I didn't thinking packing a sandwich in the bottom was efficient. Why not wrap it in such a way that it could be placed on the top above the apple which, when on top of the sandwich squished the bread?

And how long had wax paper been around anyway? Did Grandma's grandma use it? Perhaps. It is said that Thomas Edison invented it but then, doesn't he get credit for everything anyway?

I suspect that Grandma's grandma did use it. Most likely over and over. Lunch pails were tin then and just the idea of the lid sealed in the moisture. Now, I imagine if one opened that pail it was a full aroma of yeast on a warm day.

Is it wise to reuse any sort of food wrapping? I am thinking about a family down the street when the children were young. Sack lunch. Reuses the sack and the food bags over and over. With all the information out there on food born illnesses, it is simply amazing these kids never got sick. Maybe our bags were too clean.

Making lunches day after day is a pain. We had a plan. Pack a week's worth of lunches at a time and freeze them. Just grab your sack out of the freezer in the morning add fruit and go. Doesn't that sound like a great plan? Have the kids help! Meat and cheese on the sandwich, chips, and a cookie; bag it up. Except one of the children grabbed a bag AFTER school as well as FOR school.

When Grandpa was working he most certainly would have brought lunch. What I remember was quart jars with coffee. OR nectar. Root beer nectar. How odd for us, who have provisions to heat coffee or make it in less than five minutes OR to put it in a insulated container and keep it warm for hours to know people actually drank air temperature coffee.

Yet I do know someone who drinks air temperature soda. After all, if one is fishing on a hot day, that open soda is not going to stay cold very long. So there is a point. After all, the purpose is to hydrate. Well, then, water, perhaps.

I tried the room temperature soda for one summer and went back to a small cooler with an ice pack. My soda at home is in the fridge. I dare say I haven't bought much ice. A guest once asked if he could have ice and a glass. There was no ice. I since learned that many out there still use ice and buy a small bag for company. The last over night guests never used it. Most likely it is still in the big freezer in the basement.

What about an ice maker, you say? Well, the old fridge had one. Fargo's water does not make good clear ice cubes. I spent more time cleaning out the tray and lines than using it so the new fridge is simply a box with no frills.

So how do we wrap a sandwich? We have basket lunch on the way to the lake each week. A room temperature soda, a cold soda, and a container of milk go to the side. Fruit goes on the bottom followed by a cookie. The sandwiches are in zipper bags. One is marked, "T" because "T" likes more mayonnaise. MORE? Slathered is more like it. All of this is covered with a railroad hank, which goes on Tom's knee. We do not reuse bags for food.

It does not smell like wax paper
It does not smell like old milk
And the truck does not smell like Washington Grade School lunchroom.

e

FATHER KNEW BEST

You may not have favored a parent; I did. It was Daddy.

A friend recently asked why people hadn't put their dad's picture on Face book like they did their mother's photograph. I adore this lady and she deserves to know it was hard to do.

How do you post a picture of someone when you are flooded with memories to the point of tears? How can you not post one of him making Diamond sit on the lawn mower? How about him on the back of Suntan when he rode in the Dairy Day Parade? How about him scratching the back of the Hereford's? How well could you see him in the picture of him and I on Christmas Day in the cutter?

Last Sunday when we came home from the lake, I took the time to look at the pictures of Daddy from when he was just standing to the summer of 1981 when we celebrated, what would be his last birthday--the was 67 and Rachel baked and decorated his cake.

Every picture shares a tie. Something sparked at each picture and a learned lesson.

Stan wasn't a handsome man. He didn't have a sexy look about him. He was short and in his work clothes with his hanky sticking out of his back pocket, he looked like any other working man in our town.

Yet, he was handsome to me. He was kind and good to me. We had a good relationship. I was lucky, his alcoholism didn't get in the way. I was able to separate the disease from the person.

Perhaps I find good fortune in the good, the bad, and the ugly. What amazes me is what I remember is the good.

On this Father's Day, I honor him. I am listening for his laughter and his voice. Let's hope you can do the same.

e