Day 95. Always hard to say goodbye - so I won't

40 years ago I met Judy Burns. Jim had brought me over to meet his family and there she was, shy, red-haired and hiding behind her mom. I recognized her from the hallways at school. I'm sure I smiled and held my hand out, but those details are no longer part of my memory.

Two years after that first meeting Jim asked me to marry him and I officially became part of the family. But during that two years prior we had all gone to rummage sales, craft fairs and camping together. I really thought I had become a part of that family.

*imagine a record scratch coming to a halt sound right here*

You see - on our wedding day Judy could not stop crying. She was yelled at a couple of times to stop, but it continued. It wasn't until years later that I found out she was sad that Jim was leaving and she felt she would never see him again.

In fact, the other day, while cleaning her room, Jimmy found her diary. She had been keeping it steadily from the late 70's, recording important dates and activities. Some I photo copied and used on the memory boards and video. I love that she recorded those moments. Because they gave me a nice look into her thoughts. It comforted me.

As far as the wedding day she wrote this:

"8-4-84 Saturday

Dear Diary,

Saturday James got married. When everyone got to the church, I walked right in. I felt I was going to miss him. I felt like crying...I cried all the way through the ceremony."

I remember talking to her about it one time. She was feeling bad about it and wanted to explain. I knew she cried during the ceremony. She told me the rest of the story later. 

"I didn't stop until mom told me to at the house. I went in my room and just cried until it was time for the party. At the party I felt better after talking with you and James. You told me not to be sad, now there was going to be another girl in the family! I felt better, I danced with you and your sisters. I knew we were going to be good friends"

Little did she know that we would move only a couple blocks away, and walking over to visit became a routine. 

That diary had all sorts of momentous occasions, her graduation, going camping, on vacation to Vegas, shopping with Nellie and Mom, bowling banquets and high scores - and the birth of both of her nephews. 

She spoke of being happy to be named God-mother for Jimmy. I know the first thought in her mind - I am going to spoil the pants off that boy! And she didn't disappoint. 

She had many posts about first Jimmy, and then Andy. Many of them said she was going to see 'Jimmy' leaving me and Jim as after thoughts. 

She enjoyed making Jimmy and Andy laugh. She talked about spending days with Andy while Jimmy went to preschool. She loved reading to both of the boys, and watching movies, and just playing.

However, I truly wonder about her truthfulness. You see at the end of every entry after a babysitting day she would write "they were good boys". I know my children. That couldn't always be true....

Judy, Terry, Grammy and Poppa had a seasonal camping sight just a few rows down from ours at Maple Heights. We would all go camping during the summer. Judy made sure to have books to read or quarters for the video games so the boys wouldn't be bored!

Anyway, time passed as it tends to and the boys grew up. Grammy, then Nellie and only a few years ago Poppa left and soon it was just Judy and Terry at home.

I would take her shopping and to appointments, and for a while I would take her to and pick her up from work. Lunch or dinner were always offered - she always wanted to make sure I wasn't taken advantage of. She would talk my ear off about a show she just watched, a movie she wanted to go see (she took me, reluctantly, to see Frozen, and then later I took her to see Frozen 2. I will forever love those movies!) and we even talked politics every now and then.

My driving her gave us time to talk and get caught up. She would tell me how happy she was helping out at Culver's. She enjoyed talking to the customers and helping the little kids by getting them napkins, catsup (although they always made a mess) and ice cream cones.

She told me one story that has truly stuck in my mind when I think of Judy. She had been working the lobby area with another new employee. He was a teenager and kept sitting with friends instead of doing his job. He kept telling Judy she needed to do the cleaning. So, she reported him. When he asked her why she would do that she responded, "I'm slow, I'm not stupid"! I love that phrase.

She was not happy with the Pandemic - it changed too much of her routine and she didn't like having to limit her contact to customers by only running the orders to their cars in the drive through. But she did enjoy the other employees and I was touched by their reaction when I told them of her passing.

Reading - or at least purchasing books - was Judy's biggest passion. Thanks to her, the literacy center of Milwaukee now has a middle school library section containing over 2000 hard cover books. I know she would have liked to think about kids reading stories that she provided.

On one occasion coming home from Barnes and Noble she was telling me how much she appreciated me helping her out. She knew I was busy and taking time for her was something she felt was an added burden. I told her not to be silly, I enjoyed our time together. Yes, I was busy, but it was always a special event when we could hang out. Even though she did make me go see the Oak Ridge Boys! I've never been a fan of country music - but seeing the smile on her face as she sang along and danced to the music was magical.

Those are memories I will cherish forever. 

After her father passed away she gave me a thank you card for taking care of him and making sure the nurses and doctors listened to his needs. At the end of that note she told me she didn't want to call me her sister-in-law anymore. I was her sister. Plan and simple.

The past three months have been a flurry of events. Her battle with vitamin deficiency, seizures and body systems shutting down, and finally losing that battle. We all did as much as we could. 

I sat with her many hours in the hospital, when I could. Again, the pandemic kept us apart most of the time. I was able to sneak in for visiting although I was just her 'sister' and not her guardian (again the pandemic rears its ugly head) thankfully the social worker at the hospital agreed with me that I needed to be there for her.

On her last day I sat and held her hand. I read to her so she could hear my voice and know she wasn't alone. I called family and let them talk with her on speaker so they could say one last 'I love you' and 'goodbye'.

Just before she slipped away I told her I loved her. I thanked her for making me her sister and the joy she gave me every time we shopped. I asked her to tell grammy, poppa and Nellie that I missed them and loved them. I asked her to give my parents a hug. I gave her one last kiss on the forehead. 

She was gone.

I left the hospital, tired, but not entirely sad. I could feel the love of those that left before in the room and knew they were all being reunited. She was no longer alone, or in pain.

I climbed into my car, turned on the radio, and pushed in the Oak Ridge Boys CD she insisted she purchase for me.

I drove home singing and remembering that night.

Thank you, Judy - you taught me so many things. Never give up. Never let people try to put you down. 

'you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think'.

Day 88. Black Swan

Before I was born my parents were Tupperware sales team members. Each year Tupperware has what they call a grand jubilee where they recognize top sales numbers and give out awards to those that make high numbers.

My parents were two of the people recognized and they received two Murano glass swans. One blue, one black.  

Mom had displayed it on the coffee table in the living room for many years. I would always play with them. The blue one would be the mommy swan and the black one the dad. I could spend hours just sliding them across the table surface and imaging them swimming in a pond.

After my mother died I still remember the swans being an important part of our living room decoration. It was always there and for me signified more than an award for doing a good job. It was still the mommy swan and that family was complete. 

When my father remarried and we combined the households I made sure the swans were packed carefully into a box and carried them the three blocks to our new house. They would soon be placed in the basement rec-room behind the bar. I loved looking at them, it brought back good memories.

One day when I was downstairs dusting my new mother came down to clean the floors. I told her that when they made up the will, I wanted her to put that I would get the swans. I think she wasn't having the best day, could have been a million reasons why she was upset by my statement. Maybe the fact that I was thinking of their death. But she responded by telling me that the swans had been a gift to her and she was hoping one of her children would take them.

I may have been just nine, but my upcoming teenager spirit came out. I know I yelled and an argument ensued. It ended with me storming up the stairs. I was in my room which was right above the basement when I heard the heart stopping noise.

***crash***

I ran downstairs to find my new mom stooped over the remains of the blue swan. She had bumped it by accident and it fell and broke. I cried myself to sleep that night. Now the swan family wasn't whole either.

I moved out of the house soon after graduation and didn't ask about the swan again. But every time I would visit, or there was a holiday gathering I would always find the black swan and stroke his neck. It brought me comfort.

The years moved forward and my parents, first my father, then my mother passed away. 

Shortly after mom died, I was at a wedding shower for my niece, and my sister Cathy pulled me aside. She told me she had something she thought I would like. She handed me a box and inside was the black swan. She knew I had wanted it and so she retrieved it from my parents belongings before they sold the house and held it for me. My heart jumped. Yes, of course I would keep him. I was so happy and hugged Cathy as hard as I could.

So then the next quest began. Searching antique stores and online sales for a new blue swan. I searched, my sisters searched, my children have searched, but no swan. It has been almost 15 years of searching for the swan. 

I asked at an antique store how I may get the picture out to collectors to see if anyone had seen a blue swan. They suggested Facebook Antique groups. I gave it a try. I took photos of the black swan for comparison and included the dimensions. I wrote a short story letting people know I was looking for his mate.

I hit post.

It only took a day. I received a message with a link to eBay attached. I looked at it and couldn't believe my eyes! It was the long-lost blue swan. I gladly paid the amount that was being asked and waited patiently for the swan to arrive.

Today my doorbell rang and the postman was holding a box with "Fragile" written all over it! She was here!

I can't tell you the excitement I had when I took her out of the box. There she was - just as I had remembered her. I took her downstairs and re-united her with the black swan.

The swan family was whole again.

Day 87. The Amazing Mrs. Burns

I know what you're thinking. I'm getting a little prideful. But the Mrs. Burns of this story is not me. I'm just Carole (always say that), Mrs. Burns is my mother-in-law.

We lost her to breast cancer almost 20 years ago. I never realized it until today, by my children don't know a lot of stories from when her kids - their aunt, uncle and father - were small.

Judy was her only daughter. When she was an infant she contracted German Measles and was hospitalized. During that time (Mrs. Burns told me) the hospital gave her too much oxygen and she ended up with brain damage. However, in Judy's words "I'm slow, I'm not stupid". That was something Mrs. Burns always told her. 

So today's story is one that Judy shared with me while we were shopping. 

We had walked past the children's clothing and I noticed a little tutu dress. I said how sweet it was and asked Judy if she ever took ballet. "No, I took tap" came the answer. She went on to tell me the story of her short tap career at the ripe old age of maybe 5 or 6.

"Mom would take me every week and sit while I learned the steps. We worked on each of the lessons when we got home so I would learn them well enough to keep up with the other kids in the class. I never missed a single session and mom was always paying close attention so that she could help. 

Then we started to learn a dance routine that we would perform on the last day of the class. Mom took notes and practiced with me every day. The little girl across the street was in my class so mom and I would go over to her house and work on the dance.

Finally the day came for the performance. We got dressed and I had my shoes polished and a bow in my hair. But when we got to the class I was the only one to show up. None of the other students wanted to perform.

I was scared and didn't want to do the routine by myself. So my mom put down her coat and purse, climbed up on to the platform and did the dance with me. It was a mother-daughter dance." Judy had a smile on her face as she remembered this story. "It is one of my favorite memories, then when we finished she told the teacher we wouldn't be back. I guess she was upset that no one else bothered to show up and felt it was a waste of time. So I went on to other classes instead. But that one I will never forget."

I really wish I could have been there to see that performance. I didn't want to tell Judy about the tap lessons I took in my 40's. We had a recital too. 

I didn't show up. Now I wish I had.

Day 86. Picking Berries

Think back to when you were a tween (11-13). Your brothers and sisters were out earning money, buying new things, driving their own cars. It was a difficult time because they didn't want you hanging around, and they especially didn't want to have to keep paying for your food or soda!

Enter Titsy. Yup - that was her real name. Titsy. She owned a farm on Shepard avenue, just a bike ride from my house. One day on the way to summer school I saw a sign that she had posted in her front yard:

Help wanted. 

Seemed like a sign - well, I mean it WAS a sign, but I meant a sign that I should go up and talk to her. I stopped my bike, carefully climbed down into the ditch, then back up to the road and walked my bike across the street. Before you knew it I was knocking at the door and hoping she didn't already find someone for whatever job she had.

A little old lady came out on the porch. She had to have been about 4 feet tall, 90 lbs soaking wet and 100 or more years old! Her face had the look of tanned leather with deep thick wrinkles. Almost like the witch in Hansel and Gretel. Not trying to be mean, just painting a picture for you.

I spoke with her for about 10 minutes and before you know it I had talked me and my friend Lori into the job. Lori didn't know I offered her skills, but I was sure she would want to do this task. It wouldn't be hard, we just needed to pick berries off her raspberry bushes. We would be paid fifty cents, each!

I rode quickly rode home, changed into some shorts and a T-shirt, ran next door and told Lori about the job. We really hadn't planned anything for the afternoon so we headed out.

We spent the rest of that day and most of the next picking berries. We must have easily picked a thousand or more pints! OK, in reality - maybe thirty each, but still, that would be $15 for each of us! This would be enough to cover the cost of a movie or two and some treats. 

We knocked on the door and presented Titsy with the box of pinted berries (not sure that is grammatically correct, but what else would you call it?)

She smiled and her little wrinkled face seemed to straighten out a bit. She thanked us and headed into the house. She opened her purse and gave each of us.....yup, you guessed it. Fifty cents.

Lori, the polite one always, smiled and said thank you before I could even question the amount. We grabbed our bikes and road off. When we got home I asked Lori why she didn't ask for more. She looked at me and said, "you told me the lady said she would pay us fifty cents each. That's what we got".

You know, it never dawned on me that she meant each of us and not each pint. So now you understand why Lori is such a good friend. She wasn't mad at me for assuming. She just took it in stride and realized we had helped a nice old lady with her chores.

However, we never went back.

Day 85. Recess

Out for our walk this morning a familiar noise was coming from the grade school in our neighborhood (the same one I attended when I was in sixth grade). Lyra was extremely interested in the noise and it actually felt good to hear it. 

Recess! The kids have returned to school after being on lock-down due to COVID-19. It was a good sound to hear - kids screaming and laughing. I turned the corner and could see the swings and monkey bars were full and a group of kids were playing a game of kick-ball on the black top.

As we walked past I kept a side glance at the game. I noticed that most of the players were boys, all in fact, except for one girl. She seemed to be uninhibited by the gender difference and instead was running and yelling at each swing of the leg.

That would have been me. Back on the playground at Lincoln Elementary School in Cudahy I was always one of the first people chosen for a team. My swim practice had strengthened my legs and I had a natural talent at catching the ball before it hit the ground. Yup, I was the ringer on the team. But my favorite part of the game was when you caught a grounder and could really smack a runner with the ball. I would always aim for the face if it was a boy that harassed me. Hey, all is fair in kickball!

The best games were after eating lunch. You see, since so many kids walked home for lunch they would give you an extra long break - almost a full hour. If you ate your lunch fast enough and grabbed the ball first you could get to the diamond on the blacktop and start the game going. I would open my 'Banana Splits' metal lunch box, take three large bites from my sandwich, scoop my pudding cup using my potato chips, toss my garbage and be out of the school in under 5 minutes. I wanted to be one of the captains because then you could set up a fairly good team.

In those days girls couldn't wear pants to school. Dress code demanded skirts or dresses. It would be a few more years before I was finally able to wear pants. But nothing said I couldn't wear shorts under my skirt, which made it easier to kick a ball and run at recess. Doing so without shorts could be costly on windy days. Or the famous 'dress up' day (when boys would grab the sides of the skirt and lift it up to show your panties). I was never caught off-guard. My underwear choice was of no concern to anyone but me.

Our games would go on for weeks, or until someone kicked the ball on top of the school - which wasn't difficult on the Kindergarten wing, which was only a one story structure. Then you'd have to wait until the end of the school year when the janitor would go on top and throw back all the balls, Frisbee's and hula hoops (it can happen) to the kids below.

It was good to watch the game as we walked past, to see the kids doing something physical. The game hadn't changed in all those years, and the fun that could be had with a rubber play ground ball brought back so many memories.

Day 84. Granny Squares and 4H

Before we moved to Oak Creek I was quite active in Girl Scouts. We had just performed at the Holiday Folk Fair and I was anxious to see what Oak Creek's troupes would be like.

Non-existant.

In Oak Creek they hadn't had a strong scouting experience so instead my friend, Arlys talked me into joining 4H. This was completely new to this city girl. I mean, people in this group actually raised cows! I was lucky that I could keep a hamster alive for more than a year. (There's a backstory there - watch for it at a later date)

But I was anxious to have something to do and this seemed like a fun group. We would get together and talk about projects, and we always had a craft to do at the meeting. It really wasn't that different than scouting, except that it was coed. It was the first time since I was little and my mom was a den mother for Gary's Boy Scout Troop that I had been in a group that included boys. I was too young to really care that much, but it still was a difference. For one thing, you could learn about engines and electrical things, not just sewing and cooking.

In my scout group I had learned how to crochet and I was getting quite good at granny squares. I would work on it with all of the yarn my mom would toss my way. At first my stitches were not that consistent but as time went on, I got better. Enough to catch the eye of one of the leaders of the 4-H group. 

She talked to me about entering my crocheting in the upcoming fair (it wasn't State Fair, one that was held at Mayfair, I think). Anyway, being on the look-out for awards and recognition, I entered.

But as you know, my interests and stamina in a project was never very strong. I kept meaning to pick up the hook and yarn and finish some more pieces, but other pressing things got in the way, like bike riding with Arlys or wondering the woods behind the house.

The day came for the fair and I ran upstairs to grab my 'blanket'....yeah, that's what I'll call it. A blanket. It just so happened that my sister, Judy had also been crocheting for a school project. She had made a little crocheted dress and baby booties out of blue ombre yarn. It went perfect with my blanket. I knew she wouldn't miss it (and this is probably the first she's reading about it) so I grabbed it and took it to the show.

At the fair we had the opportunity to wander the mall. We didn't have much money so we went around and asked strangers for some so we could get food at the 4H booths. Yup - early life pan-handling at it's finest.

The time came for judging and the ladies who looked at my project were very complimentary. Especially at the skill level of the dress and booties. They were tight stitches and well put together. When time came for awards I (er...Judy) took home three blue ribbons. They wanted to keep the pieces to display at the State Fair, but I lied and said they were a gift for one of my sisters that was having a baby shower.

It worked.

I went home with my three blue ribbons. Returned Judy's project to her crocheting bag and put my blanket over my Mrs. Beasley doll.

I think I was going to like 4-H.

Day 83. Change of Plans

I am planning a road trip for me and Andy to Kansas City Zoo and then to Florida. Originally it was supposed to be Route 66 - but as is normal when traveling with Andy, things change. It is okay, though, because that is how he and I like to travel. No real time table, just destinations. It allows more flexibility while at the same time sticking to a routine for travel that Andy is comfortable with doing.

So here is how the plan is progressing. 

Originally we were going to take Lyra and head along Route 66. Jimmy and I had completed the East-West trip about 7 years ago and Andy has been wanting to do the same. So I downloaded the Route 66 App and started sliming down the attractions I would try and hit this time. I really wanted to see the Blue Whale in Catoosa, Oklahoma. Somehow Jimmy and I missed it on the first trip. So I made sure to include it in my plans. Of course POPS soda in Arcadia, OK would be something Andy would want to see so that was an easy 2 locations. I figured I would try and see more of the Muffler Men along the route this time as well.

But, today Andy changed that.

He found out that one of his favorite foxes from "Save a Fox" was transitioned to a new home in central Florida, fairly close to Orlando. Soooo since we really don't have a plan and I haven't made any hotel reservations yet, we are altering our plans. 

We will still go to Kansas City zoo to see the penguins we have been watching on the Live Streaming feed, and then head to Florida.

Lyra is going to stay home since I know I could find someone to watch her in Kansas - I would not be able to find someone in Florida. And well, leaving her alone in a hotel room is not very nice. Leaving her in the car is not even an option. Besides, Jim will be happy to have someone to hang out with at home.

I'm back to researching again, trying to find the best route and in turn, the safest hotels to stay at during a pandemic. We are bringing a tent in case we find a good campsite - but not having stayed in any down south we just aren't sure what to expect. I picked up a National Parks sticker today so that would be an option.

I guess the Blue Whale will have to wait for next year. Oh, and if you have read this far - next year I am planning a Route 66 road trip for anyone that wants to join in. More information on that later.