Tag Archives: Family

NEW YEARS IN WIESBADEN, GERMANY

30 Dec

SUNDAY MEMORIES

 Judy Wills

Judy

 

                                            

When Karen, our oldest daughter, was still quite young, we were stationed, through the US Air Force, in Wiesbaden, West Germany.  We had joined an English-speaking Baptist church there.  One year, the church decided to hold a New Year’s Eve evenand they needed a “Father Time” (old year) and a New Year’s baby.

 Our little Karen was just about the right age and size to be the New Year, and they asked us if she could do that.  We agreed.  And, so she wouldn’t be traumatize, they asked Fred to be the old year.  He was to wear a “toga” along with a white beard and white wig. We were concerned that Karen would still be frightened by this strange looking man with a tall stick.  So we had Fred dress up in his costume, and present himself to her before the program.  She looked up at him and said, “Hi Daddy!”  So much for a disguise!The program was a lot of fun, and the church group enjoyed themselves.

While we had never seen a drunk German, we were still a little apprehensive on our drive home late that night.  Yes, there was a lot of fireworks, and a lot of reveling all around, but nothing too drastic.  Along the way, as Fred drove very carefully, we spotted an older gentleman on the sidewalk.  Fred slowed down,  just in case this gentleman decided he needed to walk in the street.  The man stopped, looked at us, and tipped his hat at us!  Then he was on his way.  We waved at him and thought how remarkable it was.

We’ve remembered that courtesy all these years.  Such fond memories.

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OUR FIRST REAL CHRISTMAS TREE

23 Dec

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

Judy

                                                  

 Growing up, Christmas was really special to our family.  We usually stayed at home in Albuquerque, and my brother and I woke up to “Santa” and all the presents our parents, Grandmother, and Aunt Jessie had gotten for us.  We always had a tree, loaded with those huge lights in multi-colors.  Such neat memories.

So it came as a bit of a surprise to me that my new husband and I didn’t have room in our tiny apartment for a tree!  Of course, we were both working – and he was in school all day – and so there was hardly any reason to have a tree.  I did learn how to make a “tree” out of a magazine and spray-paint it with silver or green paint.  Add some tiny ornaments, and there it was.

 

And there were some Christmases that we went to visit our respective families, and we didn’t need to have a tree.  That “tradition” followed us through the early years with our daughters.  After we moved to Florida (Panama City/Tyndall AFB), we usually made the trip down to Titusville to spend the holiday itself with my brother and his family.  After a few days there, we would drive across the peninsula to Clearwater and spend a few more days with Fred’s parents in their retirement condo.

 

One year had been especially difficult and tiring for us.  I remember Fred making the statement that for five cents, he would stay home that year.  I handed him a nickel.  We stayed home that year.  We decided that, since we were staying home, we needed a tree for ourselves – and this time we would get a live tree!!  The girls were so very excited about that prospect.  We went tree hunting and brought home a lovely big tree.  It made our house smell wonderfully fresh and piney.  We put Christmas music on the stereo, and began decorating our first real Christmas tree!  We made cookies.  We bought or made presents for each other.  It was a lovely time together.

 

Christmas tree

At this time, Karen was 10 years old, and Janet was six.  One day, while I was sitting at the piano working on a piece of music, near the rocking chair, which was next to the tree, Karen was sitting in the rocking chair reading….her favorite past time.  All of a sudden she let out a scream and jumped out of the chair, flinging her book across the room!!  WHAT????

Apparently the wonderful tree we had purchased was home to a LOT of inch worms – and some of them had made their way onto the chair, and onto the book she was reading!  I then realized there was an inch worm on the piano, as well!!

WELL!!  That tree didn’t last much longer in OUR house, that’s for sure!!  It was out the door in no time!

I think Karen didn’t sit in that chair for a month after Christmas!!

At least it was a Christmas to remember.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Early Christmas Celebration

20 Dec

Sometimes God answers our needs and wants before we even think to ask. I really needed someone to fill in for me today on the blog and before I could ask, this appeared in my inbox. Thanks so much, DiVoran. Onisha

My Take

 DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

 

I gotta admit I was a little nervous about having everything perfect for our family Christmas. Daughter helped plan, came up with protocol for gifts, organized the dinner, and wrote the back and forth emails. Husband vacuumed, mopped, got tables and chairs ready on the porch, and repeated “everything is going to be all right,” on multiple occasions.

It’s Time (at last)

Sister and Husband arrive with food, gifts, and good will. Daughter and Husband come in the door (son-in-law made delicious ribs and we accessorized around them). We hear a car and migrate to the front window to watch Son, Wife, and college age Grandchildren emerge with plenty of pretty gift bags and comestibles.

Perfect weather for porch. Holly-jolly time at table. Conversation pops and sizzles. Delicious chocolate chip cookies for pre-dessert, made by Granddaughter.

Move chairs into living room, a place for everyone. Grandson plays Santa, handing out gifts. Suggestion: pay no more than three dollars per gift and buy one for everyone. Only a suggestion, re-gifting, re-cycling, and trading perfectly acceptable. Someone trades mint kisses for dark chocolate, kisses and from there, for special dark–trading up.

Elders tell ancestor stories. Rapt attention for a while. Soon family members close eyes in order to picture the stories better. Everyone gets comfortable, Grandson stretches half way across living room floor, granddaughter curls on couch with head in mom’s lap, Son-in-Law leans head back in easy chair. Son makes strong coffee to go with dessert, demonstrates bell playing technique, hands out tiny bells upon which to play tunes. A person wearing Christmas earrings asks to be a conscientious observer. Okay. Sister conducts Jingle-bells, one note at a time. Watch for video on YouTube.

Two more parties to attend. Grandson receiving texts from spies telling about new roomie moving in to dorm. Mom says, “We can run  by and check it out on the way home.”

Goodbye hugs all around. Chase son-in-law to Jeep for one. Truly, truly, a great time was had by all. Thank you Lord, from the bottoms of our hearts.

Psalm 71:18 The whole Psalm is frabjous!

 

early Christmas

 

 

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WIESBADEN, WEST GERMANY

16 Dec

SUNDAY MEMORIES

 Judy Wills

Judy

                                                     

After my husband had completed his meteorology training for the U.S. Air Force, he was assigned to an AF Weather unit in Wiesbaden, West Germany.  We were quiteexcited about the prospect of living in that country.

 I was seven months pregnant with our first child at the time we were due to depart.  There was just a short window of time that I would be able to travel/fly that far.  If I didn’t make that window, then I would have to remain state-side until after my six-weeks postpartum exam before I could join him in Germany.

Part of the problem was that my passport had not arrived yet!  So, in addition to the time we were to spend with my family in New Mexico (Fred’s family was visiting there to see his brother graduate from the University), we had to schedule a stop in DC to pick up the passport.  And it was HOT in DC in June!  We flew from there to Philadelphia for an overnight with Fred’s relatives.  Expecting to have a nice, cool, stay – we discovered they lived in a row house – without air conditioning!  We nearly melted!

However, all worked out and we flew out to Germany the next day.  We found a second-story apartment on the “economy” (military talk for non-military housing).  We had two bedrooms, and even a balcony!  The German owners lived downstairs.

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The house was on Albrecht Druer Strasse. If that name is unfamiliar to you, just think of the “praying hands” sketch you’ve seen.  Albrecht Druer was the artist.

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The area where we lived was quite nice.  Just down the street was a lovely park, where the two of us used to walk.  And after Karen’s birth, we walked there again, with her in the buggy.  She loved the outdoors – and the Germans we passed oohhed and aahhed over her.  There was also a church nearby that chimed the hour.

Fred’s dad retired on August 31 that year, and his parents flew over the next day to visit with us.  Our daughter made her appearance the very next day!  And how nice it was to have the grandparents right at hand to take care of us!

Our first Christmas in Germany was lovely.  Fred brought home a table-top tree, and he purchased some German ornaments, that we still have – all these 50+years later!  They aren’t fancy, but they bring back so many memories of such a wonderful time in our lives, every year as we place them on our tree.

 

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Fiesta Dresses

9 Dec

SUNDAY MEMORIES

 Judy Wills  

Judy

Growing up in New Mexico was a great experience.  Of course, we moved there when I was only four years old, so I didn’t know any different.  The Indian/Mexican culture was just something that was normal to me.

 When I was old enough to learn how to sew, my Grandmother and Mother began teaching me the sewing machine by having me sew row-upon-row-upon-row of trim on yards and yards of fabric.  It was all straight stitching, but some rows were metallic trim, some were rick-rack, some needed only a single stitch to hold it down, others required stitching on the top and bottom edges of the trim/braid.  Very boring.  But it gave me a sense of what sewing was all about.

All those yards and yards of fabric would eventually be made into a Fiesta Dress, or Squaw Dress, as some called it.  Three tiers, each one “longer” than the one above it.  Those dresses could be made from just about fabric and color combination.  I remember a royal blue fabric with nothing but copper trim – one of my favorites.  I remember a winter dress made from blue corduroy – no trim needed.  I remember one made from fabric that looked like bandana design – no trim needed on that one, either.  I remember one that was made in light cotton – white – with red and red-and-white trim.  It was great – until I washed it the first time – and the red ran like crazy!!  So my Aunt Jessie took the dress (blouse and skirt) and dyed them beige.  For some reason, the red didn’t show where it had run, and really looked rather classy with the red trim.  Another favorite of mine.  Oh, so many dresses.

And the skirts were not left “pouffy” like they might be today – they were hand-pleated after being soaked in starch!  And to keep the pleats in, we rolled the skirt into itself and stuffed it into a nylon stocking.  Jessie’s dogs LOVED to get at those to fight with them!

Dogs fighting

But those dresses were considered in good taste no matter where they were worn.  They could be worn to a very casual setting…..they could be worn to work….they could be worn to a fancy dinner setting – all worked equally well.

I’ve never seen them worn outside of New Mexico, however.  So when I took them with us to Texas, they were not the “in style” to wear.  I still have them, but can’t seem to find the right place to wear them now – even if I could fit in them anymore!

But they were just right for New Mexico.

Blue skirt

red skirt

                    

                    

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The Ring

4 Nov

SUNDAY MEMORIES

 Judy Wills

 I have always loved jewelry.  I guess I come by that honestly – after all, I am female!My Mother’s only sibling, my Aunt Jessie, was what we used to call an “old maid.”  She never married, and her mother, my grandmother, lived with her.  And because Jessie didn’t have children of her own, she rather doted upon my brother and myself.  Most of the time that was a good thing….sometimes it got me into trouble with my parents.

But Jessie had a love of “things” – and jewelry was one of those things.  She and Granny lived in San Antonio, Texas for many years, and I know that she would frequent some of the pawn shops there and buy beautiful rings at bargain prices.  I think that’s where she acquired most of her jewelry, as she didn’t inherit it.

When I was one-year-old, she gave me a ring with a small diamond in it.  I really don’t understand that logic – a diamond ring to a one-year-old?  I’m sure that my Mother never let me wear it!  Perhaps it was just a “posterity” thing.

Jessie made friends with an Army nurse while in San Antonio.  In the 1950’s this friend was stationed in Korea, during the Korean war.  While there, she purchased a pearl ring that she gave to me.  I actually did wear that one.  And somehow, that ring was damaged.  The pearl was intact, but the ring was a mess.  So Jessie took both the pearl and the diamond rings.  She showed me a design that she had in mind, to combine the diamond and pearl into one ring.  It was a rather intriguing design.

And before long, she had the ring in hand, and it was on my finger.  I’ve had the ring since the early 1960’s, and it is a favorite of mine.  I enjoy wearing it a lot, knowing she had it made, just for me.

After Jessie and Granny moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico, she became enamored with turquoise jewelry.  And she loved all things turquoise – in any design.  And she loved BIG turquoise jewelry.  Big and heavy.

She always wore a lot of turquoise jewelry, but she never lost her love of the “finer” jewelry.  She had favorites that she wore a lot.

I am pleased to say that my Aunt Jessie and I both shared a love of jewelry, and she gave hers to me in her will.  And so, every time I wear jewelry that is from her, I think of her…remember her.

She, herself, was a jewel in my life.

 

 

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Kitty

14 Oct

MEMORIES

Judy Wills

My mother-in-law was a gem. She was funny, cute, elegant, classy, down-to-earth, loved to laugh, and welcomed me into the family as a daughter. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I married her first-born.

Her name was Charlotte Emily, but I had never heard anyone call her anything but Kitty. Occasionally a niece would mention “Aunt Charlotte” but that’s about it. She rapidly became a second mother to me, and I loved her.

I was always curious as to where the nickname “Kitty” came from, and found it to be a most interesting and amusing story. In her own words:

“…when I was in 7th or 8th grade, I was given a nick-name, Kitty! This came about in the winter when we were skating on a small lake in Monroe, New York. My sister Eleanor told some friends about an episode when we were living in Windham, New

York. Our Mother and her three daughters were enjoying the evening sitting on our front porch, when a small black and white animal came creeping up the front walk. I began calling, “Kitty, kitty” and started down to pet him or her. As I got up my Mother said, “That’s not a cat – it’s a skunk!” Well, luckily, it turned and ran away without leaving the usual odor we associate with skunks. That winter when we, El and I, were skating, El told this story and from then on everyone on the ice began calling “Here Kitty, Kitty!” And I’ve been called Kitty every since!”

Mystery solved! I’ve heard similar stories before, but not where the name stuck.

Her father was a Scottish Presbyterian minister, who immigrated to the United States from Scotland during the Potato Famine in 1910. I remember her saying that she loved to hear the bagpipes play – it really got her blood up to a good boil!

She was devoted to her husband and their four children. Being a U.S. Air Force wife, she moved and traveled frequently. She had a flair for decorating, and her home was always elegant yet comfortable. I remember the story of how, in 1947 after World War II, her husband was assigned to an installation in Italy. He went over first, and then she made the trip with those four children in tow – ages 8, 4, and 2-year-old twins. She was a brave woman! They lived all over the world – many places in the United States as well as Italy, Japan, and Hawaii.

She was a great cook. She taught me to make turkey stuffing the “New England” way – with bread rather than cornbread. She taught me to make German Springerle Christmas cookies – the best I’ve ever eaten!

She loved to have fun, and was a bit of a cut-up. I will always remember her with me on the beach in northern California, dancing barefoot through the wet sand and kelp.

She left us in 2010, after about 10 years of dealing with Alzheimer’s disease, and so she actually left us many years before that. I miss her, still.

John 14:27

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Let’s Go Fishing

19 Sep

A Slice of Life

      Bill Lites

My father-in-law loved to fish. It really didn’t matter what kind of fish it was, he just loved the challenge.  To get away from the Summer heat he and his wife would select a relatively cool location, known for its good fishing reputation, and set up their semi-permanent base camp (usually a 30’ travel trailer) there.  Sometimes he would rent a travel trailer at a campground or sometimes he would buy a used travel trailer, haul it to the location, use it for the season, and then sell it when it was time to head home.

One year he called us and said, “The Silver Salmon are going to be running up the Columbia River and you should bring your family out and go on a fishing vacation with us.  Well, I’m not much of a fisherman, but we tried to make it to California once each year so the grandparents could see our kids (4 & 5 years old at the time) and we thought this would make everyone happy.

 

The plan was to fly from Orlando to San Francisco where Ivan would pick us up and take us to Livermore where they lived.  We prepared the truck, boat and crab traps for the trip to Garibaldi, Oregon where Ivan had made arrangements for us to stay together in a motel.  By leaving at 4 am, we made good time for the first 200 – 300 miles, when a wheel bearing went out on the boat trailer.  The repair took the better part of the day before we could continue our journey.  We finally made it to Garibaldi, had dinner somewhere, got checked into our motel and crashed for the night.

The next morning Ivan and I headed out early to get the boat in the water and set the crab traps on the way out to the “best fishing spot” as defined by the locals Ivan had pumped for information at the boat ramp.  That first day we were encouraged by the number and size of the fish being caught all around us.  The picture below gives you an idea of what some of the other people were catching.  This was what we were expecting to catch too.

Funny thing though, we didn’t catch a single fish that day.  Ivan was pretty upset about that, but his attitude improved somewhat as we came back in that afternoon, stopping to check the crab traps, and discovered we had a great catch of dungeness crabs

Of course, the kids were a little squeamish when they first saw the load of crabs we brought home!

Our family had not been introduced to what fine eating dungeness crabs could be, but after the initial shock of seeing how they were cooked, and getting over how they seemed to stare up at you from the plate as you were tearing off their legs, we enjoyed a wonderful, all-we-could-eat, crab meal.

As it turned out, each day after that was a repeat of that first day.  We never caught a single Silver Salmon, but Man-Oh-Man did we gorge on dungeness crabs!

On a rainy day, we took a tour of the Tillamook Cheese Factory.  That was a informative adventure seeing how all the different types of cheeses are made, wrapped, cured and packaged for shipment.

Ivan never did get over not catching any Silver Salmon, but the family had a good time and enjoyed seeing the local sights including the cheese factory.  The return trip to Livermore was uneventfull, but we all enjoyed the beautiful Oregon and Northern California scenery and a wonderful time together.

Scripture: Ecclesiastes 3:6 (NIV)

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No More Pizza Please

5 Sep

 

A Slice of Life

Bill Lites

My parents had many hopes and dreams for my sister and me, and tried to give us every advantage they could, so we could realize those dreams.  One way they tried to help me, was to set aside a small scholarship fund when I was born, to help pay for my college education (their dream for me).

I had always wanted to be a mechanic.  My plan was to send money home to my wife every month while I was in the Navy so we would have enough saved to last until she and I were able to find jobs after I got out.  She was a licensed beautician in New Mexico and I planned to work part-time while I went to school.

After I got out of the Navy, my wife and I moved to Inglewood, California for me to go to Aviation Mechanic School.  The problem was, I didn’t really know how the job market worked, so, when I talked to the  school registrar, he convinced me that I didn’t really want to be a mechanic, but an engineer.  Looking back on it, I’m sure he got extra points for every person he signed up for the three-year engineering course over the one-year mechanics course.

When I insisted I wanted to be a mechanic, he said, “Well, okay, we have the perfect course for you, it will give you a Mechanical Engineering degree and an Aviation Mechanics license”. I think I bought into that mainly because he told me how much more money I would be making as an engineer and, it would also make my parents happy,

All of that was great, but the next class startup for that course was two months away, so we started looking for work.  That’s when we discovered that my wife’s New Mexico license wouldn’t be accepted in California and she would have to take the California State test.  We lived it up while the money lasted, but then things started getting really tight.  We had to stop driving the car and go everywhere we could on my 1955 Harley Davidson motorcycle.

Finally, in desperation, a friend got us both a job packing Christmas cards, which barely paid for our rent and gas.  We were too proud to ask our parents for help, because I guess we wanted to prove to them that we were adults and could make it on our own.  There was one week during that time we were lucky the motorcycle had a full tank of gas and we didn’t have to buy any food, because I walked around all week with just one nickel in my pocket until we were paid.

At  Halloween we were told the neighborhood kids did bad “tricks” to houses and cars if they didn’t  get lots of “treats”.  We didn’t have money to buy any treats, so we rolled my motorcycle into the living room of the tiny apartment we were renting, and took the car to the drive-in movie.  Of course, we didn’t have enough money for both of us, so my wife got in the trunk.  Boy, what kids will sometimes do to avoid confrontation.

Well, somehow our parents realized we were in bad financial straits, and each family sent us a “Care Package” consisting of four boxes of Appian Way Pizza.  Those packages got to us just in the nick of time, as we had just celebrated Thanksgiving with a plate of pinto beans, no seasoning of any kind except salt.  We really enjoyed that pizza for the first week or so (two or three times a day) but then it started getting really tiresome.  We still have the “Special Offer” pizza pan that we got with all those Appian Way Pizza box tops.

Somehow, we survived until my wife’s California Beautician’s license came through, and she got a job. After that, our immediate problems were over, but that’s not to say we didn’t have a lot more life changing encounters over the eight years we spent in Inglewood, California.

Scripture: Philippians 4:19 (The Message)

 

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Speak Up Saturday- About Booze

18 Aug

Speak Up Saturday

Introducing Bev’s Tall Tales by Bev

Last winter we had a group called, “Ten Minutes Stories,” where we each picked a word and wrote about it spontaneously for ten minutes. This short piece came from Bev, a woman who had experience with family members’ drinking. It is from her point of view, but I know many people who have loved ones, and have lost loved ones in the same deep hole. May this small writing help express the pain and frustration of loving (and despairing of ) people in our lives who are addicted to dangerous, unhealthy substances such as drugs and alcohol. DiVoran

Bev’s Tall Tales

About Booze

Booze, whiskey, toddy, cocktails, drinks…the list goes on; the word defines who we are. Cocktails? That’s a social elitist word for drink. Old fashioned terms for a drinker are: boozer, down and out drunk, wino, AA candidate, but won’t admit it yet and many others. (See, The Definitive Drinker’s Dictionary, which contains 2,964 other terms to describe the condition.

Alone? What better place to strike up a conversation than at a bar. Even if you never utter a word there’s always comfort in hearing the din, the bartender taking an order, the jukebox bellowing out smooth and swaying music or hard rock and roll. My brother always found the bars to be a place of comfort; a place where everybody knew his name.

Unfortunately, booze can rob you of your soul, a perfectly sweet, gentle, kind woman becomes a foul-mouthed, vicious rampaging madwoman, a kind, and caring man becomes a belt swinging hitter and beater of the tiniest child. Booze becomes cocktails in a civilized living room setting; voices get softer, quieter in a bar until the third drink then it equals out–ALL BOOZERS.

Proverbs 23:35

 

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