Today and "Yesterday"

March returned last night with cold winds and snow. I had to smile at Idris' excitement at the oversized flakes filling the air. Ah, to be a child and always filled with wonder. I am less pleased with May snowfalls, but there is little to be done aside from smiling at the oddity of it all. The cold won't last and warm weather will come. Eventually.

We had a visit from Numbers 7, 10 and 12 this afternoon. Talk about noise! Idris hasn't been able to play with his cousins in months and they took full advantage of the opportunity. Two months is forever in the eyes  of a child. (That "Teeny Little Super Guy on the end is only 2 moths younger than Idris!)

I've been copying more of Dad's diary and feeling encouraged at what is already done. We've a long, long way to go, but I have 9 months done and that feels like an accomplishment. It's still hard to read. Life was anything but easy...

August 12, 1964, Wed- Tim and Ar have been up since 4:00 AM. I worked all day. ... Ar had a rough and exhausting day. The Lord will lead through these cloudy days. Tim's been sleeping since 6:30 PM. Ar, Dan and Martha are sleeping... 

 August 14, 1964, Fri- Tim was up early. Ar had a good day with Tim. .... It's so wonderful to have all five of us together again. The Lord is very good to us. ...

August 24, 1964, Mon- Sunny, cool, nice. ... Tonight Ar, the kids and I went to Sears. Tim gave me a rough time. ...  Martha sure demands my attention. ...

 August 28, 1964, Fri- Worked all day till 4:30 PM, ... Tim got lost in the woods. ...

September 2, 1964, Wed- ... Tonight after supper Ar, Dan, Tim, Martha and I went to Webster park. Tim wanted to run away all the time. We got a letter from Elim. We're planning a trip out there. ...

 September 3, 1964, Thurs- Sunny, warm. Worked all day. Ar had a terrible time with Tim. He's rapidly becoming impossible again. Wants to run away and do everything contrary. Tonight we all took a ride. Rained. Later Ar and I had tea. We plan on going to Elim around 9/20 thru 9/25. Tired. 11:40

September 8, 1964, Tues- ... Ar had a rough day with Tim. He gulped down half a bottle of aspirins. ... Wrote to Elim.

September 9, 1964, Wed- Foggy, rainy, hot, humid. Busy at work. Dan's back to school. Martha's got a cold. Tonight Dan was sick with a headache. I played with Tim. Ar defrosted the refrigerator. Later tea by the fire (papers). Martha's reaching for this book. 11:20 PM.

September 11, 1964, Fri- Sunny, hot. Worked till 4:30 PM and paid bills. Tonight I played with the kids some and washed the car. Martha's crawling all over the living room (seal fashion). Tim's doing very well. 

Sometimes it the hard stuff like Tim waking much too early, running away, and being "impossible." And sometimes it's the little things, like the baby me demanding attention, reaching for Dad's diary, and crawling all over the living room... It was a package deal, some of it literally impossible and other pieces beautifully and peacefully normal. This was us.

And Then We Took a Walk

When I left the office last week, I did not make another appointment with my chiropractor. My lower back has been feeling better since being home, and  my neck was just adjusted. Besides, I was going back to work again and unsure of my schedule. Then, late this morning that familiar twinge in my right side returned, not terrible, but noticeable just the same. I decided to wait it out and see what happened. What happened was that the chiropractic office called me at noon. The secretary said Dr. Q had noticed I wasn't on the schedule this week and would I like to make an appointment? So I did. And I made one for Hannah too because she'd been saying she needed to go, and this afternoon we did just that.

Tonight, after supper, Hannah, Idris and I took a walk up to the village and back again. It was a little cool, but comfortable for walking, and the sun was shining. Sunshine and walking make the world feel right again, even if it really isn't.

When we returned from our jaunt through town, I sat down to copy a little more of Dad's diary. July of 1964 were some of my parents' darkest days...

July 8, 1964, Wed- Anguish, wild dreams, cold sweats, tears and terrible depression are words to describe our long night. But in all this the Lord was with us. Rough day. We miss our Timmy so. Worked. Tonight we've experienced some relief. Exhausted. Bed. 11:30

July 9, 1964, Thurs- The Lord has lifted the load and given us a much more positive outlook on Tim's separation from us. We're looking to Elim Christian School as the Lord may lead. 

Tears relieve the pressure, but they don't necessarily take away the ache. Dad went to work each day and often worked long hours. Mom stayed home to take care of Dan and me, and every day their hearts ached for their little boy in the care of the State School. A late July entry tells of race riots in the city of Rochester, and a visit to Newark. "This afternoon Ar, Dan, Martha and I went out to get Tim again. We took a ride. He enjoyed it, and didn't mind when we brought him back."

A week later, August 2, "He was too doped up to enjoy anything."

The following day Mom wrote a letter to Elim. She must have been desperate. If the school accepted Tim into their program, there would be no weekend visits, it was too far away, but this was their best option and they pinned their hopes and prayers on this.

August 4, 1964, Tues- Sunny, warm. Breakfast. Poor Ar doesn't get much sleep these days. We are anxious to take our Tim out of Newark. Very busy all day till 8:30 PM Tonight I played with Martha. She laughs cute. Tea. Time 11:45 PM

On August 5th, "Ar went out to Newark and made arrangements for Tim's release Tuesday. His diagnosis and physical are complete. His papers are on their way to Elim. The Lord has made the sun shine through."

August 11, 1964, Tues- Sunny, warm. Worked till noon. Ar and I went out to Newark and brought Tim home. Poor little fellow is all mixed up. He cried and ran a lot, but calmed down some in between. Tonight he played some, smiled and sang. We took a little ride. Time 10:30 Bed. We love him so much. It's nice to have him home.

It's hard to imagine the rush of emotions, and then again it's not so hard to imagine. Sometimes it's all too easy, perhaps because tiny children, though oblivious to what may be going on behind the scenes, pick up all too easily the emotions of their caretakers. Sometimes I can imagine the sorrow and terror all too vividly, and I know, even though I've only copied to August 16, that it was another year before Tim went to live at Elim. I was just a baby, but this was my world. In so many ways it seems a small piece of my life, but in my first year and a half it was all encompassing. It wasn't just a small piece, it was my entire life.

Work, and Stuff

I went back to work this morning. It did not make the world go back to normal. We had a grand total of 9 children, and three of them belonged to staff. I had four hours to load the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, make and serve lunch, clean it up, and set out snack. Needless to say I had a little downtime. All staff wore face masks. I do not like face masks. They are hot and make breathing difficult, they steam up my glasses, and make it impossible to see when glancing downward. Yes, I do know why they are required, but I still hate them. I pray a day comes soon when they can be put away forever, but I am beginning to doubt that will ever happen. In spite of hating masks, I had a very nice snuggle with a 16 month old who did not want to let me go. That makes going back and wearing a mask worthwhile. (I also realized my first day at the daycare was exactly three years ago today. That's cool.)

I'm still copying Dad's diary a little at a time. I have 7 months down. A little here and a little there, and maybe I'll eventually get all five years of this book on paper. My heart aches as I read the story of them putting their small son in the care of a state school. I can only imagine their anguish.

July 7, 1964, Tues- Words can't express the grief we feel for our little Timmy. We took him out to Newark and left him there. Our only comfort is that we're sure the Lord is with us in all this, and somehow He'll make the sun shine again. This is a terrible experience. Very tired. 11:25 PM

I wasn't even four months old, scarcely old enough to smile...

When I was a Baby

I spent a good part of this dark, rainy Thursday typing Dad's 1964 diary entries into my computer. I'm halfway through June.

There isn't much to tell about the almost 3 month old me. Mostly I spend my evenings in a rocking chair with one of my parents, have already had chicken pox thanks to my older brother, and am starting to smile. Dad mostly says I'm "cute" and only once has he said I'm "being difficult." Ha ha!

My brothers are 5 1/2 and 6 1/2 years old. Mom and Dad are struggling to find help for their youngest son who is mentally handicapped. They don't have answers, but are searching for solutions. They've tried a drug to help settle him, and talked to a doctor in Niagara Falls, an osteopath, who has decided she cannot help them. He's been referred to as "emotionally disturbed," but no one knows what to do. He can not go to school and is difficult if not impossible to control, especially when the weather turns nice.

(May 20, 1964, Wed- Worked all day. Studied at noon. Have a lot of ground to cover before exams. We came to another "dead end" with Tim. Dr. Dovesmith is out. Very discouraging. Ar and I had tea and rocked our baby. Very tired.)

Mom's days, mostly unmentioned, are filled with taking care of her children and home. She's been weepy, fought sickness, and spends long days at home without Dad.

Dad is tired and overwhelmed with responsibilities. He works anywhere from 8 to 12 hours a day at an often difficult and frustrating office job, is taking a night class (Psychology 102), and is doing the best he can to keep up with his family and their needs. He often stays up way too late, and is physically exhausted.

(May 28, 1964, Thurs- Sunny, cool. Worked all day till 6:00 PM. Ate at the diner, and went to school. After school I studied till 9:30 in the library. Later Ar and I had tea and held Martha. She's getting cuter and cuter. Late. Tired.)

It's not the picture of Mom and Dad that I remember, and although it doesn't surprise me, I never took the time to really think about it until the last several years. In looking at the past I see little bits and pieces of what makes me who I am. I'm understanding us in a whole new way.

Today and Yesterday

It rained all day Sunday, but because Saturday had been so beautiful, the rain was easier to take. I went to church online in the morning, and when Hannah and Sergio went out later, I stayed home. While they were gone I started a batch of homemade white bread, and made a dish of bread pudding. Late in the day Hannah and I took a rain walk with Idris. Along the way we cleared debris from the gutters so the rainwater could run down into the storm sewer "where the alligators live."

This morning I took my car back into the shop to have the brakes checked. I need two new brake lines, which was no surprise to me. They are original to the car and it is 11 years old. It won't be done until tomorrow as the shop was terribly busy, but I have nowhere pressing to go so that's okay. Rachel picked me up at the mechanic's and we went back to her house for the day.

It was a wet, gray morning. I had packed Dad's old diaries into my purse, along with my reading glasses, and we spent the morning looking at separate computers while typing in old diary entries. I started with 1964 and she with 1969. We typed along until lunchtime, ate grilled cheese sandwiches and Fritos, and kept right on working until we decided to get up and stretch our legs.

By afternoon the sky was looking a little brighter and the clouds not so thick and heavy. We decided to walk around the neighborhood. The walk felt wonderful. Along the way my phone rang and I heard a cheery voice on the other end of the line. It was my boss Kim. The daycare owner is hoping to begin opening up the center again and we can start back to work next week. We won't necessarily have a multitude of children, but we'll be getting the center ready for the kids to return. The plan is to work 30 hours and get paid for 40. I am ready to go back.

When our walk was over we got back to working on the diaries. It is tedious work. Each book is a Five-Year diary which means minuscule handwriting and lots of turning pages. By the time she took me home a little after 4 pm, we'd each copied from January 1 to about the 17th of March. We only have about 18 1/2 years left to go. Ha ha! It could take us all summer!

This evening I took a little walk around the corner and down to the woods with my camera. Number Nine was home in the driveway playing bubbles with his daddy when I left. I have thoroughly enjoyed spending these last four weeks with him and his mom.

More of 1968

I am intentionally leaving out so many things from Dad's diary, but the bits and pieces of my early childhood help me know the little me a little better. 

May 31, 1968- Rained most of the day. I borrowed a dump truck and hauled crushed stone most of the day. We need one more load. Marth likes dump trucks. Prisc doesn't. Tonight we mowed the lawn. Our place is looking better. Lots of work. Tea. Tired.

(My dad's uncle owned a construction company and thus Dad borrowed a dump truck. It was a big one, at least to a four year old. I remember feeling pretty special riding along with him in that truck. We drove across the Irondequoit Bay Bridge on our way to and from home. Later I would dream of Dad driving the truck across while the bridge was breaking. It was a recurring nightmare and terribly frightening.)

June 5, 1968- Bobby Kennedy was shot in LA. ... After work I took our lawn mower to Jim Muskers's and brought home an orange kitten. ...

June 6, 1968- Bobby Kennedy died. A shock to the nation. ... Our kids love the cat. ...

I learn some interesting things reading these old journals...

June 16, 1968- Ar and Marth stayed home. (from church) Marth had a earache. ...

(I remember the earache, the pain deep inside each time I swallowed, and the fluid that spilled onto  my pillow when my eardrum eventually ruptured.)

June 17, 1968-  ... The Lord spared Marth and us a terrible accident with the mower. ... 

(At present I do not recall this incident. Not exactly anyway. I do recall my mother's grave and stern warnings concerning lawn mowers. And I also remember my parents being much more shook up about whatever happened, or whatever it was that didn't happen, than I was.)

June 20, 1968- ... Marth's heart murmur has progressed. ...

(I know absolutely nothing about having had a heart murmur.)

In recent news, my little friend Sofie left this world early yesterday. My friend Lia is heartbroken. I've found myself teary as well, but I am at a loss as to whether I am sad for Lia, myself, or whether Sofie's passing is helping me grieve another piece of my mom. I think it is most likely the latter.

It was a gorgeous day! Rachel and I took a long walk to the village and back again. Later I went to her house for a bit while Hannah and Sergio were gone.

1968

I "borrowed" my dad's diary from my sister last time I was in Canandaigua. It takes some effort to read a five year diary penned in minuscule handwriting. Mostly I read bits and pieces...

3/27/1967- ... After supper I played with Marth. She's a honey. ...

3/27/1968- ... Tomorrow Marth goes into the hospital for her operation. ... 

3/28/1968- ... Ar and Marth spent most of the day at the hospital. After work I went there, and we colored pictures and played with Marth in her ward. She is a good girl, and very cheery about the whole thing. ...

3/29/1968- ... Marth had her eye operation, so Ar spent the day at the hospital. After work I went back home to get Dan, dropped him off at Mom's and went to the hospital. Read stories to Marth. She has a patch on her eye, and it irritates some, but she's very good. She waved goodbye at the elevator. Cute.

3/30/1968- ... We brought Marth home from the hospital. Ar was jumpy and irritable, so we got into a scrap.. Got our groceries, then I went back into work for 6 hrs, (12-6). Tired tonight. Baths. Marth's eye looks good. Life is very involved and complicated.

3/31/1968- ...Coffee, Sunday school, and church. ... Dan, Marth and Prisc stayed with Barb and the kids while Ar and I went to see Tim. He was so cute and sparkly, but we didn't have near enough time with him. ...

4/01/1968- Ar cried herself to sleep, (Tim). Marth is having trouble with her eye. Ar took her to the doctor's. ... Marth cries a lot. 

4/04/1968 ... Pouring rain, windy. Martin Luther King was shot to death in Memphis, Tennesee.

4/07/1968- ... Barb stopped over. She bought a house. ... Tonight Ar went to church. I had Dan, John, Kathy, Karen, Marth, and Prisc. Had a hectic time. Prisc cried, Dan stepped in the cake. I did a lot of running around for gas. Prisc threw up all over the front seat. I took them home (mine), cleaned up Marth and Prisc in the tub. Ar came home, then I took Art's kids out home. ...

4/08/1968- ... Marth's eye is good. ...

4/09/1968- ... Martin Luther King's funeral was today. We had some riot scares, but was only rumor. ...

4/13/1968- ... Tonight the folks took us all to Cartwright's for supper. We had a very nice time. Stopped at the Trading Post. The kids were cute.

I was four years old for all but the first of these entries and it's strange the memories and feelings that come rushing in when I read some of this. As an adult I have a better understanding of our family history and the timeline of major events, and I find myself sympathetic toward not only my parents (Mom was pregnant and unaware, and the company Dad worked for was struggling to survive) but my Aunt Barb as well. She had just lost her husband to cancer that February and had six small children to raise by herself. Life certainly was in a state of turmoil for the adults in my world.

And then there was the little Martha who had troubles of her own. I think for most of my first five years I was lost in a sea of unintentional and uncontrollable chaos, topped off with two eye operations followed by a pair of subsequent surgeries for a bladder re-flux. As a very little girl I was expected to "man-up," although no one would have called it that. Smile and wave goodbye at the hospital elevator and don't cry. Be brave, even if just under the surface you are terrified and alone. I can scarcely believe we got groceries the day I came home from the hospital...

The supper with Grandma and Grandpa at Cartwright's... I wonder if that was the time the fire whistle went off at the station across the street and I dove under the table without any warning. I was petrified of sirens.

Tuesday Treasures

They aren't rusty, hidden by overgrowth, or lost in the woods, but they are old and they are treasures to those of us who loved my dad. A small and treasured collection of journals and diaries giving us a glimpse into the boy he once was, the young man he became, and the father he grew to be.

The early editions were written in surplus army journals and tell of summer jobs for local farmers, a stay at an Adirondack Boy Scout Camp with his brother, their summer vacation, and his adventures on and around Irondequoit Bay. The first also tells the story of his fisherman pal grandfather and his battle and subsequent death of lung cancer. We were stunned to learn he and his grandpa both died of the same disease on identical date. September 28.

In later years my dad kept a diary. Little blips on his daily journey through life. Jobs. Girlfriends. A stint in the Naval Reserves. Family gatherings. Hunting trips. Talent shows. Meeting my mom for the first time... There was a time of quiet too. Nothing is recorded about his and Mom's wedding, the adoption of their first son, or the birth of the second, but he picked up writing again before I came along and the story of my arrival is there, along with my sisters a few years later.

Treasures. Sometimes I find myself curious about the years he chose not to record, and then I realize that some events in life leave us too tired and emotionally spent to write. I know some of the stories in spite of them not being journaled in a diary and I am blessed to have had a dad like him. The journals and diaries are great to have, but the real treasure was my dad.

Tuesday's Treasures with Tom

The Auburn Trail

An entry from my dad's diary...

"Sat. December 11, 1948- "This afternoon Arthur and I went out to Victor in the Model A and started home after dark. On our way home we decided to follow the unfinished Cloverleaf highway (dirt and high). We rode a few miles going about 50 or more when we came terribly near to going off a high drop-off onto a railroad track where they're going to put a bridge in. Arthur swerved the car around on two wheels, blew a front tire, crashed through a pile of iron bars and tore one running board in two. If we'd gone over the bank we wouldn't have had a chance. When we got home Mother, Dad, and I went to a show and saw "Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid" and "A Southern Yankee".

Maturity

"At 10:00 AM the Lord blessed us with a 6 lb 7 oz baby girl. Ar was awake and saw her birth. I think she's beautiful." -Dad's Diary March 22, 1964

(Aren't diaries a wonderful thing? ) Both my dad and my oldest brother have passed on now, but there remain stories and memories of days past. When I was still a baby my brother Dan asked Mom if he could marry me when I grew up. (I think he changed his mind later on. He told me to "go play marbles on the freeway" and I don't think that is exactly the kind of thing one should tell his betrothed...) Since Dan was adopted my mother told him he could marry me if he wanted to, to which he replied, "Can Timmy (my other brother) marry her too?" Today, well ahead of My Darling, whose birthday isn't for another two whole weeks, I turn 47. If it wasn't for the fact that fifty seems to be looming over my head, that might not be so bad... In celebration of all God has blessed me with, I invite you for cake and ice cream. What kind would you like? I'm having Boston Cream Pie with vanilla ice cream, but since cyber cake is calorie-free, I just might have a taste of whatever you're having too!

Old Stories

I sneaked another peak at one of Dad's old diaries last night and found he had been hospitalized as a teenager because of some abnormality with his heart. He spent a week in the hospital while they ran tests and did x-rays and another week in bed at home, after which this entry was recorded in his diary... Wed. December 1, 1948- "The doctor came to see me and told me I can't go hunting, tramping, take gym, play mouthorgan, work, and just about anything else for a few months." Ten days later was this entry... "Sat. December 11, 1948- "This afternoon Arthur (his brother) and I went out to Victor in the Model A and started home after dark. On our way home we decided to follow the unfinished Cloverleaf highway (dirt and high). We rode a few miles going about 50 or more when we came terribly near to going off a high drop-off onto a railroad track where they're going to put a bridge in. Arthur swerved the car around on two wheels, blew a front tire, crashed through a pile of iron bars and tore one running board in two. If we'd gone over the bank we wouldn't have had a chance. When we got home Mother, Dad, and I went to a show and saw "Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid" and "A Southern Yankee". So much for taking it easy! Whenever Dad told this story I could see him heave a sigh, shake his head, and wonder in disbelief that he and his brother survived so many boyhood antics. He never laughed when he told this story. Note- As best I can tell the "Cloverleaf Highway" refers to Interstate 90.

Sliding Along

Sometime soon I will be sifting through the family slide collection in search of treasures. I have discovered my camera can take fairly good close-ups and with the right lighting and a can of air, to spray off the dust, I can get some pretty good copies. The last time I went through the box, I was looking for pictures of myself and my sisters. This time I am looking for pictures to put with some of the stories I've heard my parents tell, and also photos to go along with some of the tidbits I've read in Dad's diary, things like, "Martha climbed all the way up to the attic today."