Passing of the Baton

I was in the kitchen, bright and early making pasta salad for the party in the country tonight.  My dear friend has a country house and hired a local Kansas City blues band, Levee Town, to play. We all call it Blues-a-Palooza in the Country. I tried to think how much fun it was going to be.  I tried to think of bonfires and wine and cigars and food. I tried to keep the tears at bay.  My mind kept going to Betty.

We had a death in the family yesterday and I was thinking about all that goes with the event, while chopping vegetables.  How much I loved her and how much she loved me and my family, how fun she was and how much laughter she brought to the entire family.  She was the cousin of my mom-in-law.  That makes her my husband's second cousin, my daughter's third cousin, and my grand children's fourth cousin.  Her adult children grew up with my husband.  They now have grandchildren. I've lost track of the continuing cousin levels.  No need to know.  All I know is, we are family and we are all saddened.

We will gather in the country to grieve together, laugh together, eat together, and just hang on to each other.  It's what a family does.  This may very well be the last country funeral I will ever attend. (By the way, country funerals are very different from city funerals.  I will describe in another post) She is the last of the relatives to live in Walnut Grove, population 600.  Even the name of the town stirs up images of a small town much like the Walnut Grove in the Laura Ingalls Wilder stories.  It is not the same one, however, it shares all of the characteristics of Laura's Walnut Grove.

The family members, on our limb of the family tree, were called last night with the news of the death.  They will need to be called again as more information is available.  There will be a dinner at the church on Sunday.  The ladies of the church need a head count.  Flowers will need to be ordered.  Family members will need to be called again with all the particulars of the dinner, visitation, and funeral.  I will be handling all of this as the representative of our part of the family tree.  Thank goodness for email, texting, cell phone, and land line.

I have been handed the baton of the matriarch of the family.  I now realize it.  It's been coming on for quite some time now.  More and more family gatherings at my house.  Family members asking me for the latest update of other family members. Holiday central is right here.  And, I have become a caregiver for both the mom and dad of my husband.  But, today, it's official.  My husband's mother asked me to order the flowers for the family.  Yep, in this family, that would be the indication of the leadership roll.

My mom-in-law had all sons.  No daughters.  I have been married to her oldest son for almost thirty nine years.  I am now caring for the parents of my husband.  They raised the nicest human being I have ever known.  They are the grandparents to my daughter.  They are the great grandparents to my grandchildren. It is an honor, and a lot of work, to care for them.  I am very close to them. 

In the past, whenever there was a death of a family friend or relative, she would call with the news and then call again with the particulars.  She would make a point to tell us that she had taken care of the flowers for the family.  For a long time, I didn't really know what that meant.  One time, when they were living almost two hundred miles away, in the height of their busy retirement years, I had taken it upon myself to order some flowers from just us.  It was for the funeral of a mutual friend. A few days after that funeral, she informed me that she had ordered flowers....for the family.  Not knowing it was the unwritten rule of the family for her to do that,  I told her I too had ordered flowers for us.  The look on her face was one of shock and disbelief.   Uh oh, I had over stepped the boundaries of the funeral rules of the family.  From that day on, she always made it a point to tell me that she was doing the flowers.  End of funeral flower discussion. 

Today was different.  I had called to check on her, knowing she had a fretful night.  She and her cousin were like the sisters neither of them had.  They were around each other as much as possible as they grew up.  They lived close to each other when they married and raised their families.  They have always remained close, up to the end.  She was doing pretty good.  She asked about all the family members I called and what their plans were.  She wanted to make sure they all knew how to get to Walnut Grove and did they know where the church was.  I just said they knew.  I didn't have to go into an explanation of Mapquest, Google Maps, cell phones, texting, or GPS.  Then, she asked me what kind of flowers to send.  Mind you, this is the lady who had been ordering funeral flowers since the baton was passed to her after her own mom had passed!  I told her I thought something very sweet and feminine would be nice.  She then asked if I would take care of it.  At that point, right then and there, I knew I was the official matriarch of the family.  The go to person, the confidant, the soother of hurt feelings, information central.  The Top Mom.  Holy shit!  This is for real.

I've noticed what men will do....

I was at the Royals baseball game over the weekend.  Before the game started I was sitting in my seat, drinking a beer, and eating homemade potato chips with blue cheese, green onion, and bacon.  Decadent on so many levels. The Kansas City weather had calmed down and decided to act like San Diego.  I was in my own personal heaven.

The players on the field were going through their pre-game routines.  As I watched a group of guys walk from the dugout, all the way behind right field, to the bull pen, I couldn't help but notice one particular guy.  He had on a hot pink Barbie or Hello Kitty backpack. Not one other player had on a backpack.

I came up with two possible reasons why a Major League Baseball player would walk across a ball field wearing a hot pink backpack:

1.  He lost a bet with some of the guys.  Guys take betting seriously.  Including payoff and the big loss.  It's what they do.

or

2.  His little daughter asked him to use it so she could see him on TV.  Dads will do ANYTHING for their daughters.  Anything.  It's what they do.

Religious Freedom

I cooked all day today for a sick neighbor.  Chicken and dumplings and peach crumble.  Lots of time to think and pray. I thought about a lot of things.  The one thing I thought about a lot, was the discussion and goings on around our country concerning the Muslim community center to be built in New York. 

I am very concerned for our country.  This is not a path our country should be taking.  No religious group should ever be singled out and shunned.  Our country was started because certain religious groups were shunned.  Religious freedom started the exodus from England to the New World. It continues today from other countries.  Persecution of religious groups is not to be tolerated, period.

A neighbor of mine recently described the allowing of a Muslim built community center to be a "poke in the eye".  Really, a poke in the eye?  That is pretty drastic.  I am thinking a poke in the eye is an action of intent to inflict physical pain and disfigurement.  Somehow, I don't think a community center has that intent.  But hey, that must be just me.  I just kept my mouth shut and filed it under ignorance.  One cannot argue peacefully with an ignorant person who is unwilling to listen and reason.  No matter how much wine either party has consumed!

I remember how wrong it was to shun Catholics, Jews, and Mormons even as a young girl.  People did it all the time. Many of my family members did it.  Marrying someone not of your religion was considered a mixed marriage.  Some things have changed for the good.  But this Muslim thing has me a bit sad and angry.  Muslims are being terrorized and shunned because of the actions of a few.

When Timothy McVeigh, Terry Nichols, and Michael Fortier bombed the Federal Building in Oklahoma City, their religious faith was not shunned.  Christian churches were not told they could not build in certain locations.  Why?  Because they did not embody the Christian religion in their actions.  They chose to use terrorist violence to show their disdain for our country. They should not be tolerated.

The way I see it, Muslims were not embodied in the actions of September 11, 2001.  It was a political group called Al Quaeda who chose to use terrorist violence to show their disdain for our country and disdain for Jews. They have no affiliation to a country, so they do it in the name of Islam.  That does not mean all Muslims are members of Al Quaeda.  Just a very, very small group who have tarnished the name of Muslims all over the world, especially here in the United States.  They should not be tolerated.

The way I see it, Christians are not embodied in the actions of Skin Heads, the KKK, or Neo Nazis.  They are political groups who have no affiliation with a country. They have chosen to show their disdain for non white, non Christians by terrorist violence in the name of Christianity.  Just a very, very, small group who have tarnished the name of Christians in the United States.  These groups should not be tolerated.

The way I see it, Nazis did the same thing.  They had no affiliation with a religious group or country.  So, they decided to try and create their own country to justify their disdain for Jews and non white people as they committed horrific acts of terrorism.  They tarnished those who were not Jewish and white. This group should not be tolerated.

We cannot allow our country to be overtaken by religious intolerance. If we do, we will be just like others who have terrorized and shunned religious groups.  We will fail as a country.  Our country was not based on religious intolerance.

Things I like to do..........

Kiss my husband...Walk on a beach...Taste frosting...Pet the cat...
Swim in a pool all by myself...Watch sunsets...Knead bread dough...
Rock my babies...Laugh with my sisters...Drink champagne...
Listen to blues music...Cook for my family and friends...Read...
Smoke cigars...Road trips...Watch Christmas movies...Paint furniture...
Kiss the heads of my grand children...Take food pictures...
Sit in DFW watching people...Shop for gifts...
Drink coffee...Walk in the woods...Listening as it snows...
Get ice cream at 10pm...Drive a golf cart...Write...
Watch a thunderstorm roll in...Open a gift...Sneeze...
Read cookbooks...Ride the Sea Doo...Road trips...
Digging around in antique stores...Surf the internet...
Make quilts...

Cigars and Citronella

Last evening was one of the few evenings we have been able to sit out on the deck.

We have had a run of very hot and humid weather. Just watering the flowers, as the sun is going down, results in sweat just dripping everywhere on my body. Very, very miserable.

I would not have made it as a pioneer or old settler in the Midwest during the Summer. Those pioneer women who cooked meals, tended gardens, raised children, had babies, and helped their husbands to tame the country in this sweltering heat, were some of the strongest women in the world. I'm not so sure I would have made it.

Tonight was a respite. A short thunderstorm moved through the area. It provided just enough relief to enjoy the veranda by lowering the humidity and temperature.

We had gone out for dinner later than usual because we were mesmerized by the storm clouds. The clouds were so high and so beautiful we couldn't stop looking at them. Many times in the Summer, here in the Midwest, thunderstorms just form. In one hour it can go from totally cloudless to a thunderstorm billowing 50,000 feet into the sky. Then, after the sun goes down, there is nothing but stars in the sky. Last evening was one of those times.

After the storm had passed, we went to get a bite for dinner. It was about eight o'clock and the crowds were starting to thin out. I enjoyed a delicious white sangria before dinner, sitting there, with my sweetie. We each talked about our day and enjoyed being together. You would think, after thirty eight years of marriage we would have grown tired of each other. Quite the contrary.

By the time we left the restaurant, the temperature had dropped a few degrees and the humidity had dropped many percentage points. When we got home the veranda was calling us. I watered the hanging baskets with flowers, the pots of herbs, and the tropicals. Saw a neighbor walking her dog and chatted a bit. It had turned into a comfortable evening.

As the dark set in, I lit a citronella candle and a couple of little tea lights. The veranda had that welcoming, cozy glow. Jim came out with a cigar and asked if I wanted a little one. When he buys cigars, he also gets these little vanilla cigars not much bigger than my pinkie finger, just for me. Once in a while, a little cigar is just the right thing.

We sat there in the flickering light smoking our cigars and listening to George, the resident bull frog. George has been bellowing for a mate all summer. The chirping birds of the day were replaced by the symphony of tree frogs, crickets, cicadas, and George.

The smell of vanilla cigars and citronella candles finished our day. Summer in the Midwest.