remembering, macaroni-and-cheese

A year ago today I had macaroni-and-cheese for lunch.

Isn't it strange the things we remember looking back? Homemade macaroni-and-cheese a seemingly meaningless detail to remember especially a year later, but I remember a whole lot more starting at that hour (11am) than just what I ate.

Go back 5 days to Sunday. My mom and dad saw my grandpa and grandma at Arby's (it was Arby's Sunday 10% went to our youth group) and ate with them. My grandpa (Charlie) was not able to finish his sandwich, which if you knew him was a strange thing. As soon as we were finished eating I headed for Wauseon High School for my All County Band concert. After the concert I went to find my parents and grandparents in the auditorium; it was then that I was informed that grandma and grandpa were not there because grandma had taken grandpa to the hospital.

By Wednesday the doctors had finally decided that he had pneumonia. Jessica and I took sandwich's, grapes, and drinks to the hospital to eat supper with grandma and visit grandpa. I remember making sure I had my smile on when I left because grandpa always commented on my smile and demeanor. --We had this routine grandpa would always ask "How are you doing BrookE?" (he is one of the very few people I allow to call me BrookE), and I would respond "Good." To which grandpa would say "Good, good, you are always good BrookE," or something in that respect. --

Thursday the Doctors announced that they thought the worst was over.

Friday morning my uncle visited grandpa and just after he left my grandma went came into the room. "Did you see Ed in the hall?" he asked, to which my grandma replied that she had not, "You must have just missed him," he said. He took another drink of orange juice and laid down. From then on things got worse and he was gone by 11:30 that morning.

I was sitting at my normal lunch table in my normal spot --inside table in front of the doors to the outdoor senior eating area-- just about ready to bite into my reheated macaroni-and-cheese when the school Secretary, Mrs. Turner, came into the lunch room. I saw her and knew immediately that she was looking for me. She said, "your mother is signing you out." I knew what this meant, but how could it be? The last news I had received said that the worst was over and he was getting better. Scatterbrained and trying to keep composure I fumbled to pick up my dishes as Jeni and others at the table asked "what's wrong" I looked at Nicole and said "my grandpa." As they tried to reassure me I clumsy and in a daze held back tears and crossed the cafeteria, which seemed to have lengthened considerably, after being clear of half the student body--they would have had a hay-day seeing me hysterical leaving the cafeteria, I can only imagine the rumors that would have begun, but I digress-- (and seeing my mom outside of the office) I could hold back no longer.

The "normal" immediate response to grief hit I remember crying out in anguish to my mom "NO! NO, NO, NO. . . they said he was doing better. . .it's not fair." She never had to tell me what happened. I knew.

On the 1/2 ride to the hospital mom told me what had happened in detail. He didn't suffer long (thank God), and grandma later told me that he did not have the dreaded 'death rattle' the often accompanies pneumonia (like her second husband, Glen, had when he passed on, she said).

He was still in the room. Grandma wished me to go and say my goodbye. I gave him one more hug and kiss on the cheek whispered by I love you and goodbye and took my place beside my grandma. I could tell it meant a lot to her to see me do this, but I never once saw her cry. So strong in front of all of us who'd gathered there.

The viewing and funeral passed, all eight of my grandma's kids were there with their spouses. We told grandma about our previous plans to have a surprise 80th birthday party for her, as a surprise was the last thing needed.

Grandma wanted the grandchildren to take a flower from the floral arrangement on top of his casket. A red rose, there was no question. He made that flower special to me. Numerous occasions come to mind when I think of red-roses at grandma's house. I remember one time arriving at grandma's house with her and seeing a note on the inside door letting her know her that he had purchased roses for her and they were in the basement fridge. The smile on her face; she knew he loved her.

How do we keep going after experiencing a death? A year has passed since grandpa's passing and it has been over 9 years since my brother Shaun's death. How do we keep going? God carried us.

A year ago today I had homemade macaroni-and-cheese for lunch.

Baby X + websight

Set up: In psych we often have seminars over various topics with related readings. Our latest seminar was over a simulation of an experiment entitled "baby X." I searched the article title and found a websight with the reading and I would truly like to here your views. http://www.gendercentre.org.au/22article4.htm


The opening question:
How do you think it would be to be raised as a baby X?
A. Befuddling B. Rewarding C. Phenomenal

My response:
Since I HAD to choose one of the three I chose Befuddling. Nobody else seemed willing to open so I brought in my "extreme" view. Befuddling seemed to be the most negative and so that it the view I chose. My own words are more negative it would be crappy to be raised as baby X. I do understand that the researchers are trying to get away from societies unwritten laws that push girls towards dolls and boys towards trucks. But this is a little bit too much. If boys and girls acted the same (girls more like boys and boys more like girls) then where would the fun be? Everybody would act the same. Difference is a good thing in life; it is what makes girls girls, and boys boys. Difference is what makes me me and not somebody else. Girls think differently than boys, boys think differently than girls. God designed us differently. Girls have estrogen boys have testosterone. Not all girls are powder puffs and not all guys are the Hulk. In real life each person defies society’s rules in his or her own way. Everybody hold his or her place securely somewhere in-between he or she holds his or he own "shade of gray." God designed us differently it even says so in Genesis 1:27 "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them."

This child was made fun of by its peers; it was not accepted by the boys or the girls. It went home crying and was comforted by his dad and cheered up by his mom. This can only happen for so long, the child's parents will not always be able to ease the child's pain. Sure the kindergarteners soon accepted X, yet the issue does not end their. Every time X meets a person or a group of people it has to face rejection. Where can the child go to the restroom in public places? Face the facts; it is a boy or a girl. If the child does not follow all of the "boy/girl" rules that is great, but let it belong. Let it have an identity.

Thanks to my mom

To my beautiful mother, thank you


For calling me the Queen


For cooking fabulous meals


For shopping with me


For letting God change your mind and let me go to Zambia


For spanking me when I was younger


For loving me unconditionally


For helping me sixth grade year when Nicole and I had problems


For letting God do what he wants with me


For praying with me that night after Shaun’s funeral


For having me end every evening when I was younger by sitting on your lap and saying "I had a good day today I..." It taught me to be optimistic and find the good in everyday.


For making me do chores


For doing all of the cleaning this morning (nice surprise)


For listening to me when I wanted to talk and not prying when I do not want to talk


For giving me hugs


For supporting me in dance


For supporting me in music


For supporting me in the musical


For driving me all around for this stuff before I could drive


For paying for my dance and piano lessons


For encouraging me to do well in school


For encouraging me to follow and trust God


For allowing me to spend that past two summers (and this coming summer) where God calls me


For NOT buying the useless stuff I begged for when I was younger


For helping and encouraging me do both the musical and Pole-Vault this year


For doing your best to put up with me as a teenager


For allowing me to grow up


For allowing me to go out and experience my own life


For making me clean my room when I was younger


For being such a good mom

...and oh so much more

Thanks to my dad

To my wonderful dad, thank you:


For displaying your faith in God to me all throughout my life


For joking around with me


For picking me up when I needed you most


For setting rules that I do not always agree with, but you know are right


For sticking to the rules even after I beg you to change


For working so hard to provide for my needs


For NOT giving me a lot of the things I wanted but did not need


For encouraging me to do well in school


For encouraging me to be the best me I can be in life


For reading your bible and doing your devotions every weekday morning at the breakfast table.


For loving me


For respecting me


For doing so many small projects just to make me happy


For giving me hugs


For scraping my windshield when you feel extra nice



For coming to all of my dance recitals



For coming to all of my piano recitals



For paying for my piano and dance lessons



For going the extra mile and coming to my musical dress rehearsals since you could not make it to the show



For sticking up for me



For teaching me to drive stick



For laughing with me



For letting me climb into bed with you and mom during a storm or when I had a bad dream.



For getting me a guitar



For making me do chores



For teaching me to be tough



For helping me through my struggle of learning to read



For being such a good dad



...and oh so much more. I love you dad.

Keeping intouch with the little me.

Meet Shank! Nicole and I created her today after we were done sledding. Her name was going to be Hank, but we wanted to make a girl snowman so her name was adapted to fit. Many people gave us funny looks as they drove by. Psh, what is wrong with two senior girls creating a snowman by a stop sign? Don't judge us...hehehe, go ahead and judge we don't care.

Before creating Shank we went to the best God made sledding hill in the county and had a blast. Neither of us have good aim, but plenty of snowballs were thrown! We soon decided a ramp was needed and set off to the little woods to find wood for it. After a lot of little pieces of wood, we decided to knock down a hollowed out tree and use it for a ramp. Rip Wannahunk (named after the little hill the hollowed tree was growing on. We decided it was the burial place of a Chief Wannahunk of the local tribe) is the best ramp ever! We got nice air, and great landings.

Alright, that is enough random babblings. Long story short, Nicole and I had a blast in the snow today...but we both wonder how we were able to keep going when we were younger. We are not as young as we used to be.