Archive for August, 2013

Is There a Cupboard for Cans of Food?

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Actual conversation overheard while I was driving children who are blind to activities during the summer program with which I have been working:

Her:   “What street do you live on?”

Him:  “Main Street”, (which is 5 miles long.)

Her:  “What color is your house?”

Him:  “Yellow”

Her:  “YELLOW?!?  I used to live on Main Street in a yellow house.”

Him:  “Wow!  Maybe it is the same one! Did it have two bedrooms upstairs and one bedroom downstairs right next to the bathroom?”

Her:  “YES!  That sounds just like the house I used to live in! Does it have a driveway on the side of the house with bushes by the front steps?”

Him:  “YES!  How about a dining room where it can fit a table that seats ten people?”

Her:  “Oh, my family used to get all together there on Thanksgiving.”

Him:  “MY family gets together there for Thanksgiving!  Did your bedroom have a closet door that got stuck?”

Her:  “YES!  That was my closet door!”

Him:  “And how about a creepy basement”?”

Her:  “YES! YES! I was always afraid to go into the basement.  How about…does it have a  cupboard in the kitchen where you could keep cans of food?”

Him:  “OH MY WORD!  YES!  That is too much of a coincidence!  I guess I really AM living in the same house you used to live in!”

Her:  That is sooooooo amazing!”

Him:  “Isn’t it!!!!!”

And while they were talking, I drove by at least another ten yellow houses on main street.  I wonder if they all have cupboards in the kitchen in which to keep canned foods???

They Ain’t Like they Used to Be!

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When I was a teen, every Friday night my best friend and I used to be dropped off at the local amusement park and ride the rides til late into the night; exciting thrill rides like the Tilt A Whirl, stomach churning rides like the Spider, high in the sky rides like the Ferris Wheel, and funny/scary rides like the House of Horror.  I still can’t get the image of the evil man sawing the girl in half…tame by today’s standards because there really was no blood and guts showing, but scary enough to be etched in my memory none-the-less.  (Without digressing, it would be interesting to know if today’s spate of horror movies leave the same indelible nightmare etched into children’s brains…)

Driving the little cars on the Turnpike ride was awesome, especially in my early teens.  Keeping the car straight on the twisty “road”, over bridges and under tunnels, was a harbinger of the days when I would be able to get my real driver’s license.  However, at that point I quickly learned that there are no bumpers on the side of the real roads in real life and one must keep the car centered or a pedestrian or telephone pole could be taken out. I also learned I had to drive faster than on the amusement park ride lest a line of cars pile up behind me, honking and gesturing…

Our favorite ride was the roller coaster the Wildcat. I can still remember the nervousness in my stomach, the dread, and the excitement as the car started up that first steep hill. It was probably only a few seconds, but the anticipation was interminable. Then the “whoosh”  down that first hill which set the car in motion for the twists and turns to come. Because this was the age before seat belts were mandatory, flinging out of the car during an enormous turn on the tracks really did make the ride seem to be death defying. (Truth be known, people occasionally did fall out and die, but, as teens, we were immortal and nothing like that could happen to us.)  By the time we reached that final hill on the Wildcat, the laughter and excitement falsely camouflaged any nervousness of what was to come…until it came!  Going down that final steep hill, where gravity seemed optional and your stomach literally moved up into your throat, was the greatest feeling ever! It was such a “rush” in our innocent teen lives, that as the ride was over, we’d run over, get in line, and do it again and again and again until my cheeks were hurting so much from laughing that we’d stop to snack on some cotton candy or a snow cone.

Oh…..how the years have changed things. Recently I took my two youngest children to a “family” amusement park, (i.e. not Six Flags, from which my daughter is banned for life…buy my book for the details!)  The park was quaint with its refurbished candy store and carousel. with antique horses.  Even the popcorn stand that looked like a huge box of popcorn had been freshly painted, and the familiar smell of popcorn filled the air.  Street lamps guided the way on the walkways, and beautifully colored flowers grew in abundance.  A nice, comfortable, enjoyable family park.  Until you looked at the rides….the roller coasters were HUGE, with the tracks going on forever and circling 360 degree upside down!  With rider’s legs dangling loose!  Gravity pulling at hair until riders looked like they were cartoon people afraid of a ghost! With shrieks so continuous and loud I had doubt that any rider would ever be able to speak again! And there rides named the Boomerang!  The  Wipeout!  The Cannonball and the Corkscrew; each ride bigger and better and faster and turnier and more stomach churning than the next.  I was excited to find a familiar ride, The Wildcat, and I ran towards it with longing and anticipation based on my childhood memories.  But this Wildcat was the grandpappy of Wildcats, where the one I rode when I was younger could only compare now as the Wild Kitty.

I know times have changed in many, many ways, but I mourned the loss of the family amusement park the most, possibly because it was such a large, happy part of my childhood.  I was happy on this date, however, to learn that they still served cotton candy and snow cones, which I ate in abundance while I watched my children happily, (and crazily) ride the rides, making their own childhood memories.

 

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To read more about our life, here is a link to my book:

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-apple-tree/id538572206?mt=11

The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane

Link to the Readers Digest review of my book:  http://www.rd.com/recommends/what-to-read-after-a-hurricane/

There’s Just Something About Fishing…

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Marie has always loved to fish, and would spend hours at home fishing in the pond in the backyard.  While at residential school, she has not had this opportunity. So, after last week’s fishing mis-adventure, Marie and I went today to a nice, official “fishing spot”, (not the water reservoir.)  It was a beautiful 80 degree day as we found the perfect spot in the shade alongside a small, tranquil lake.  Despite being near a city, the lake was apparently house-less and had the appearance of being way out in the country.  The fish were apparently starving because as soon as Marie dropped the worm in the water, the bobber would go under and she would be reeling in a fish…a SMALL fish, but a fish none-the-less.  She would expertly take the hook out of its mouth, and throw it back in to be caught again…again…again, and yet again…

Sitting on the grass, looking up at the azure blue sky, with clouds so white and puffy they looked like you could pluck them out of the sky and eat them like cotton candy, I watched Marie in her excitement as she caught the fish.  It was silent except for the sound of birds chirping…many DIFFERENT types of bird noises so that the first time in my life I was aware that they actually made distinct sounds and they did not all sound alike.   And the breeze ever so slightly rustled the leaves. Lazing in this wonderfully peaceful terrain, I let all of my worries and thoughts just drift away until I filled with the joy of nature and this amazing love I have for this daughter who has had such a difficult early life, but who seemed to be so relaxed and carefree while she was fishing. The feeling was not unlike the feeling one gets when meditating, but it was so much more!  Not only was I relaxed and worry free, but I was also filled with such an innermost love that I felt my heart would burst if I broke the reverie. It wasn’t only a love for Marie, but a love for everything in my life.  A warm, gushing, face turning red, eyes tearing up, love.  And my thoughts turned to my dad…

For those who have not read my book, you may not know that I had a very unconventional childhood, roaming the country with my parents and brother.  My father was…odd…uncommunicative…obsessed…paranoid…”crazy”…   My mom simply explained that he had returned from World War II “shell shocked”, but his love for her had never changed.  Satisfied that that love was enough, my mom married him, and the two of them had a long and happy marriage.  She understood him, where I, as a child, did not.  I did, however, grow accustomed to his strange ways.  He never demonstrated any affection towards me or my brother, and never said he loved us.  “That’s just your father,” my mom would explain, and I would accept it.  He would not attend any childhood award ceremonies, or graduation, or baptism of my children.  “That’s just your father,” my mom would explain, and I would accept it.  He would get upset if we spent too much money on toilet paper, or bread, or hot water.  “That’s just your father,” my mom would explain.  And I DID understand.  And I DID think that, deep down, he loved me, he just never said it.

But, until this day fishing with Marie, I had completely forgotten the times he and I had gone fishing, the one activity we did together.  He liked to fish, and I rarely had anything better to do, so I would join him.  Almost silently, he showed me how to bait a hook and how to take the fish off the hook.  We would sit for hours on a lake with his small aluminum boat with the small, electric trolling motor.  Anywhere we were in the country, he could find a lake.  We would sit and enjoy this pastime, quietly, peacefully, and productively catching fish after fish after fish, all which were gently and carefully returned to the water, unharmed, and bellies a little fuller with a worm.  I learned about the habitat of a large variety of fish; catfish, eels, pickerel, sunfish, pike, trout, bass and perch, (which we both agreed was our least favorite to catch because they were so EASY!) I could see now where this activity would quiet his bad memories, enabling him to relax and find a little piece in this crazy world.  To sit quietly on a calm lake, looking up at the azure blue sky, with clouds so white and puffy they looked like you could pluck them out of the sky and eat them like cotton candy.  The boat rocking every so slightly and little waves splashing against the aluminum making a tinkling sound. I realize that maybe  he felt the same way I did today while fishing with Marie, and it was a comforting thought to think that I shared such a peaceful time with him.

And I could feel now that he loved me…

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To read about my early childhood adventures, here is a link to my book:

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-apple-tree/id538572206?mt=11

The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane

Link to the Readers Digest review of my book:  http://www.rd.com/recommends/what-to-read-after-a-hurricane/

I Wonder How My Name is Pronounced in Chinese

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I am thrilled to announce that my book,The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane, has been produced by e-Book Dynasty into Chinese!  I am hoping to inspire Chinese parents to accept their children born with disabilities with love and enthusiasm, enabling the family to live a productive and happy life.  If you know anyone who reads Chinese, please pass this information along.  Likewise, if you know anyone who reads English, please pass along information on the English Version.

Gee!  I wonder what my name sounds like in Chinese???????

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