Taps

This young man is my dad. Richard Warren Weitzel. 

The picture was taken when he was about 18 and serving in the U.S. Army.

He was stationed in London and Paris during World War II.

My dad was in Paris on V-Day and recalled marching down the Champs-Elysees.

He was discharged in August 1945.

He was a Master Sergeant.

He was proud to serve this country. 

Recently my older cousin related a story I had never heard my father tell.

At the time my cousin worked at the Pentagon. 

My mom and dad had gone to visit them in their Virginia home.

One day George and my dad went to the Holocaust memorial in D.C.

When they walked in there was a cable car similar to ones 

that were used to transport prisoners. 

When my dad looked inside he saw piles of children's shoes.

My dad turned to George and said "I have to leave."

George informed us that my dad was with the troops that accompanied 

General Eisenhower when he visited Ohrdruf concentration camp. 

I never heard a word of this from my dad. 

I only heard of the victories. 

I saw him tear up every time the Battle Hymn of the Republic was played.

We went to every Independence Day parade and celebration.

When my parents retired they moved to Laurinburg, NC. 

About 20 minutes outside of Ft. Bragg.

During my college summers I worked as a camp counselor with low income children.

Our camp was next to government property where the 82nd Airborne would do weekly drills.

Every week Army helicopters would fly over taking the paratroopers for maneuvers.

They would fly in low enough that you could wave to the troopers 

and feel the beat of the helicopter blades in your chest. 

I still love that sound.

This Memorial Day is so tender. 

Having this young man pictured below hand us our father's flag 

and expressing his appreciation for our father's service so many many years ago

was one of the most piercing moments in my life.

Thank you Dad for your service.

To the men and women who serve today and who will serve in the future...

My heart is filled with gratitude for your selfless work, 

your defense of my freedom, 

and your pride in this country.

Taps

A happy pill?

They say laughter is the best medicine.
I have to believe this has a good dose of truth.  Research has shown that laughter can reduce stress hormones. If you know me, you know I love to laugh. I try to remain upbeat. I certainly had to find humor in my life over the last few years. Possibly it helped to relieve my stress levels.
I love a good belly laugh.
Lately I have been thinking about laughter after I ran across this comment in an article.

"In school, the child with musical ability may be sent to the music room, and the one with artistic skill may go to the art room, but the child with the good sense of humor is sent to the principal’s office." -John Morreall

How true?! When Bean was in fourth grade they had a focus on poetry. The teacher would give the class a word and they had to write a sentence or two. (I won't go into all the reasons why I hated that they couldn't choose their word and so on) Well the word was "Bubble". Fourth grade boys love to write about bubbles. Not. Well, Bean wrote "When I fart in the bathtub it makes bubbles." Excellent! A+! Gold star! 
Nope. "That is inappropriate" came the response from the teacher. I would love to find her and tell her that since that time in fourth grade Bean has gone on to perform at Poetry Night in Ann Arbor at Rackham Auditorium. He has competed in the Poetry Slam with Neutral Zone and gone into the final round.* Inappropriate my fart bubble! I liken Bean's fart poem to Bill Watterson. The creative mind behind Calvin and Hobbes. Often improper. Wildly funny.

Why do we send the child with the sense of humor to the principal? Often those children are creative. They think outside the box. Innovators. Leaders. Why do we not help them use their powers for good? 

I work with a woman who makes me laugh at least three times a day. She is new to the blog. We will call her, Twin. A confident, educated, independent, beautiful woman who brings laughter to the table every day. Every Day. Like me she has had some struggles. She has teenagers, too. Heaven knows we need to laugh together. We are to a point where we can  look at each other and know we need to get some humor into our lungs. Lighten the load. 

People ask me about Wicked and what I like or has drawn me to him. Humor. He makes me laugh. He makes me smile. Every Day. Big stupid silly grins. He is optimistic. Last week he called as I was dealing with a situation that had me on the verge of tears...in public. Always my favorite. He simply said "If this is the worst thing that can happen, you are doing pretty well." Then he let a one liner loose and I laughed. It broke the tension. I knew he was right. We would have a plan B and C and D. The moment of laughter allowed me to sever my connection to fear and anger and take a breath. Refocus on what I needed to do.

My happy pill? Laughter. Every Day. It can change my entire outlook. 

“I want a life that sizzles and pops and makes me laugh out loud. And I don't want to get to the end, or to tomorrow, even, and realize that my life is a collection of meetings and pop cans and errands and receipts and dirty dishes. I want to eat cold tangerines and sing out loud in the car with the windows open and wear pink shoes and stay up all night laughing and paint my walls the exact color of the sky right now. I want to sleep hard on clean white sheets and throw parties and eat ripe tomatoes and read books so good they make me jump up and down, and I want my everyday to make God belly laugh, glad that he gave life to someone who loves the gift.” -Shauna Niequist

*Bean no longer writes. If any of you want to leave a comment encouraging him that would be great because I know he reads my blog ;) love you Bean!

  

Mother's Day

I have struggled with Mother's Day for a long time. Long before I ever became a mother. I had a dysfunctional relationship with my mom. So all those cards that said "Thank you for your support." "Thank you for the encouraging words" "Thank you for being my best friend" just didn't fit. Where was the card that said "You make awesome cookies and desserts on a daily and weekly basis! So stop commenting on my weight."
I loved my mom, but I did need to find that love while taking care of her in her last few years here. I can see now she had her own struggles but rarely shared them or, as far as I can see, ever sought help.

My three cuties pictured above are my blessings here on earth. I loved being pregnant. Loved! I was high risk with each of them. I took each day I carried that wee one and expressed gratitude for the opportunity to bring them to this world.
You would think after 20 years of parenting and 25 years of being in early childhood education I would have it down. I don't. Although I am pretty close when it comes to itty bitty babies, if I do say so myself.
Here are my thoughts on a few select people on Mother's Day.
Silver. Parenting through a divorce with teenagers is....well....hell. But she has done it with laughter, kind and supportive words, and a good deal of baking. Feed their soul.
Wicked. To become both mother and father of young boys (who become teenagers!) and provide security, humor, a good dose of reality, and some serious fudge sauce while working through his own loss. I am impressed how witty, wise and considerate these young men are. Not really, they have a daily example in their father.
The Gooseberries. The cliff notes version. We fasted together for our collective children. That says it all.
My hide and seek partner. You know who you are. Watching you become a mother has touched me deeply. To see the adoration you have for each other. Your desire to provide him with quality experiences. To celebrate the rolling over videos. Thank you for letting me snuggle the little man.
Finally, to Miss Peanut. (Don't anyone read a thing into this...she is not pregnant). You asked a few weeks ago "When I have a baby will you ever let me hold it?" We laughed. Well the answer may still be "No", but you know the complete joy it will bring me to watch you become a mother and to see you share your knowledge and love with your own wee one.

Happy Mother's Day.

Speaking volumes.

I have this young man in my life...Bean. He makes me laugh. He gives hugs that his momma often needs. Last week he turned eighteen. Together we have had all of the typical teenage boy battles. My heart has been broken several times as I watched him make choices that did not fit into my plans for him. Too many times I took it personally. About two years ago I handed him over to Heavenly Father. I continue to provide guidance and unconditional love but I realize he is not fully mine.

What I love about Bean is his tender heart. He does not show it very often. I know it's there. It is what keeps us connected. We have mushy hearts. Upon his eighteenth birthday he went and got a tattoo. I won't try to describe the image. I asked him where he got the idea. He said he wasn't sure. I know my boy. He knew. So I did a little research.

      Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite. 
      Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody. 
      But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements? 
      Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul. 
      If either your sails or our rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas. 
      For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction. 
      Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion; that it may sing; 
      And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes. 
      I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two loved guests in your house. 
      Surely you would not honour one guest above the other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of both. 
      Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows - then let your heart say in silence, "God rests in reason." 
      And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, - then let your heart say in awe, "God moves in passion."
      And since you are a breath in God's sphere, and a leaf in God's forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion. -Kahlil Gibran


What I want you to know. What I want Bean to know.
I love him. Always will.
I believe in him. He will do great things in this life.
I will be there, more than likely wiping away tears, applauding his accomplishments.