Mourning Armband Wanted

Our last time together in 2020.

I’m longing for a black armband. Not the kind I wore back in college to protest the then-current war but one for mourning. Didn’t this used to be a thing? I think I’m OK without the long black dresses and veils on the women I saw in Italy in the 70’s. Their attire was head-to-toe black following a death in the family. I just want an armband. I may look/act/even feel “fine,” but the ache is still there.

Two weeks ago, fourteen of us in our masks crowded under a small tent-like structure to bury my mother. It was cold, rainy but so were our hearts. The smallish funeral procession – it was immediate family only due to these novel times – had properly winded across town from the church to this familiar cemetery.  Out of respect, or the law, cars had pulled over to let us pass. I found that touching, along with everything else that day.

The long hearse stopped by the rose-colored, heart-shaped stone which listed my dad’s name, birth and death dates and my mom’s name and birth date, the rest will be filled in soon. On the back side is their wedding date, May 22, 1948, and the terms of endearment they called each other, “Sug & Sugie.” We are a grave-visiting family so I often stopped by here on my trips to Quincy. My mom liked to keep the flowers current.

A few chairs were set up, draped in blue. I got one of them. Maybe because I really am the oldest now. The graveside service was much shorter than the one at the church: The one she had planned with me years ago on a Sunday afternoon at her dining room table. This one seemed to end with the Lord’s Prayer but I knew there was going to be a postscript.

“Moonlight Serenade”, the centerpiece song of the Big Band’s, Glen Miller Orchestra, filled the air for the final goodbye. I knew my whole life that this melody would be played at this moment as mom had made that very clear. I just didn’t know how much it would break my heart.

After saying hi to my grandparents buried near by and bye to the rest of the family, Tom and I got in our car and drove home. 5 hours. Covid, you know, no after-party.

Food, flowers and cards were waiting and kept coming. In case you wonder if that’s really helpful, it is. I finally took the cards down this week.

I read in Genesis 50 this week that the Egyptians mourned for Jacob for 70 days. I think I’ll do the same and more for my mom.

I just wish I had a black armband so all who pass me could remember too.

Hope for the best,

Tish

PS Here is my mom’s obituary Betty C. Wiewel

My Best Tip for a Happy Marriage*

1976

Before you got married did you have a “must-have-in-a-spouse” list?  How about a “this-is-what-I-expect-out-of-marriage” list? You might not have ever written it down but you knew what was on the list.

Although you might not have realized it right away, you probably didn’t get it ALL, right?

In a good marriage, most of the time your spouse/marriage will meet about 85-90% of your expectations of what you signed up for in a marriage, whatever was on your list. Take a minute to review your list, am I right?

10-15% of the time you might be frustrated or disappointed.

The choice is now yours:  You can give thanks for the 85-90%, celebrate and concentrate on that and be glad for what you’ve got OR you can focus on the 10-15% and feel deprived, depressed and whiny.

How happy you will be in your marriage depends on which perspective you choose.

Hope for the best,

Tish

* I am celebrating my 47^th anniversary (August 18, 1973) and will be sharing a few popular marriage posts on Thursdays through August.

 

The (mostly) Universal Marriage Quirk*

Circa 1979

Turns out that the thing that most attracted you to your spouse in the first place is often the same thing that drives you the most crazy!

Let me show you a few examples….

Spontaneity is so fun when dating…making decisions in the moment for what’s next, ready anytime for a fun adventure.  You really like that quality in your spouse until it is time to PLAN something or to pin down details.

A “free spirit” personality can stand out in a crowd of conformists but becomes  frustrating when the wisest choice becomes to go with the flow.

Creativity is a delight to observe whether it is in the arts or crafts until mundane tasks get neglected too often.

Athleticism is a real draw unless sporting events fill your entire social schedule.

Careful with money can feel over-restrictive when you just want to have some fun.

Gorgeous can involve very high-maintenance or expensive services to preserve that beauty.

Sensitive can flip to moody.

Hard worker sometimes feels like someone’s always at the office.

Next time you feel an annoyance coming on, try to flip it back to the “other side.”  How does this thing that bugs you, serve you?  Can you look deeper and find the original trait and give thanks?

It helps to look at your own foibles through the lens of finding the strength on the other side too.  I haven’t yet identified just which of my attractive traits keeps my cabinet doors open all the time but I’m sure there is a connection!

Hope for the Best,

Tish

* I am celebrating my 47^th anniversary (August 18, 1973) all year and will be sharing a few popular marriage posts on Thursdays through August.

Six Phrases to Say Everyday to your Spouse.*

I am celebrating my 47^th anniversary (August 18, 1973) and will be sharing a few of the popular previous marriage posts on Thursdays through August.

Here are 6 daily phrases that go a long ways in a marriage…

How was your day? A key component in a good marriage is to maintain connection on everyday life before issues of scheduling, problem solving and other hot topics consume all the available time.

Thank you.  It is easy to say thanks to others all day long and forget to bring simple gratitude home.  Yes there is a lot of give and take in a marriage but make sure some of the give is thanks.

You look great! You hope so right? Complimenting each other goes a long way and it is important to not let yourself go and stop caring what you look like for your spouse.

 I’m sorry  OK, so you might not use this one every day but keep it handy for the little things as well as the big ones.  True, “Love covers a multitude of sins” but you still need to say sorry.

I love you. Remember the impact those words had at first?  They STILL do!

That’s so funny! Laugh together daily, there will always be something if you look for it. Comedies count too but highlight the humor in your day-to-day.

Any other phrases you would recommend?

Hope for the Best,

Tish

* Re-post

Bite by Bite: Lunch with My Mother

Birthday lunch a few years back.

Four women eating lunch around a small table on a beautiful October afternoon. Such a common event, one might not hardly notice a group like that. All around the large room, other groups were dining too. As expected, snippets of conversation filled the air.

Two of the four women just met that day. As one of the two newbies, I enjoyed meeting a new acquaintance, Deborah. We exchanged the usual info like our names, family details, and what brought us to this table. Turns out, the same events.

While we were getting to know each other a bit, Deborah and I were also feeding our mothers. The other two women at the table. Like my mom, Deborah’s mom also suffered a stroke some time back. Neither one was now very successful in getting the bites into their mouths without help. We continued chatting like this was the most normal thing in the world. For both of us, it was.

Before this season of post-stroke, my mom and I shared thousands of lunches over the years. Such sweet times over her kitchen table or later, mine. Some in restaurants like truck stops in Missouri others, in places like Harrods in London. Most somewhere in between.

The first few hundred, she was feeding me, just like I am her now. It all comes around. I wonder if she thought about then that someday our roles would be reversed. A thought I usually don’t have when I’m lunching with one of my girls now. Just as well, those musings would take away the pleasure of the moment.

After lunch, Deborah and I pushed our moms in their wheelchairs into the courtyard and mostly sat in silence. A wind chime filled the air with occasional tones and the breeze felt good. I think Mom liked it. Sitting outside was always one of her delights.

Meeting Deborah was lovely. I hope we lunch together again sometime. Another unexpected gift from this season to add to the pile I have already opened.

No one asked for these events but much grace is present.

Resting in the courtyard.

Hope for the best,

Tish

Top 10 Ways to Celebrate Summer!

Today is the first full day of Summer! *

Plenty of time left to make it one of the best and some intentionality goes a long way.

Here are my top ten ways to celebrate summer.    

• Eat outdoors often.  This includes any meal anywhere you can feel the sun and the breeze.  Breakfast is especially nice.

• Read a fun book, preferably while sitting outside.  I like to read books with summer themes in the evening and add something by Madeline L’Engel to my morning basket.

• Listen to live music outside.  Free summer concerts play about every night of the week where I live. Check your local listings.

• Go the beach/pool/lake and get in the water.  OK, I don’t always get in the water but it sure is memorable when I do!

• Stop at garage/yard sales.  The ONE item you didn’t know you needed might be waiting to delight you.

• Take a road trip somewhere. I love to keep on going once we hit the road.  Just a few hours away can feel like another world.

• Find a festival. Art, neighborhood, ethnic festivals abound every weekend somewhere.

• Watch a movie outside.  My Dad moon-lighted at the local Drive-In when I was a girl so I have always loved watching movies under the stars.  Check your local park district outdoor movie schedule or bring your laptop outside and watch one in your own yard.

• Get on your bike. Ride around the block, down the path or to do your errands.  Wear a helmet!

• Take lots of photos and get them printed.  Summer of 2019 will never come again.

Hope for the best,

Tish

* Reblog

 

Who is Writing YOUR Story?*

So what were you doing 30 years ago today? I took my two-year old daughter and her friend to story time at the library, got my six-year-old daughter to the ice skating, a friend stayed for dinner and we all watched the World Series. Riveting, right?

Some decades of our lives can just swoop by leaving a handful of memories like a few vacations or special events. Yet we are all writing in the book of life every day. Do you ever ponder where all that time went?

Thirty years ago on a nondescript day in October of 1988, I looked around at my four children aged 2-10 and wondered what any of us would remember about these days of playing house for real. So much of our time was all about making lunches, preparing dinner, cleaning up, tossing another load of laundry in and…you know how it goes.

That afternoon, in a rush of inspiration – the kind you have to act on immediately or it is gone for another decade – I piled them all in the van and drove to the nearest bookstore that sold blank fabric books. The next morning (because I’m not very creative at night!) I wrote this on the front page of the book:

“To my children so you might know what your mother was like and how we lived our lives together when you were growing up.”

And then I jotted a couple of lines about what we did the day before:

10/18/88 (Saturday) Spent the day doing a marriage conference and Karla took the kids to the Art Institute. Christa was at Cooneys all day. Ordered pizza from Little Caesars and ate it sitting on the floor watching the first game of the World Series. Dodgers vs Oakland A’s.

For the past thirty years, I haven’t stopped.

Each morning in around 100 seconds I can record the happenings of the previous day in about three lines. Most days are just not that sensational! The notes are all about the facts, what happened. I save my emotion for my prayer journal. Can you tell I like to write?

Funny but the journals, I’m on # 29, now, have evolved into our family’s Google system. Questions like “Who did I go to prom with junior year?” “When did I get braces?” “Where did we go on vacation in 1993?” are all answered in the journals.

I hope to keep this up, for let’s say another 30 years. Maybe no one will really care that one day we ordered pizza and watched a ball game. Could be said about many days around here! But I care….and that is enough.

What is not recorded is not remembered.

Who is writing your story?

Hope for the best,

Tish

* Adapted from a previous blog post in 2016.

Crossing the (Wisconsin) Border into a Legacy

Three grandchildren, six games, one jigsaw puzzle, two movies, a jug of cider, a bag of popcorn, a box of graham crackers, a package of marshmallows, chocolate bars, M & Ms …plus all the real food we might need for a couple of days weighed down our car as we drove north to Wisconsin last weekend. Our destination was Green Lake, the charming town Tom and I discovered 42 years ago.

Other than Quincy, it is the place I have returned to most.

Surely there are trendier Wisconsin destinations like Lake Geneva or Door County, both of which I also love, but sleepy Green Lake holds memories of seasons of my life and keeps calling me back.

25 years old, looking for a weekend getaway from the city with my love in our young marriage, we found our way there. We meandered, shopped a little, stared awestruck at the brighter stars, sipped cider, talked about nothing and everything. The next year we went back, listening to a Carter-Ford debate while we drove. We returned the following year too, following the same script. Always the same tiny fishing cabin. No, we don’t fish.

Fishing for seaweed.

We took a little time off to have a few kids but started going back again, squishing everyone in the same little cabin. They loved it, we loved it. We meandered, shopped a little, stared awestruck at the brighter stars, sipped cider, talked about nothing and everything and added throwing a football around.

Fall after fall, Green Lake was always on the schedule. We worked around football games, high school jobs, crazy schedules and sometimes sold extraneous stuff to cover the costs. It was always worth it.

The first year the oldest was in college, we went to Parent’s Weekend instead. Oh sure, we talked about doing both, but it was just a fantasy. We had one weekend to spend every fall and Washington University got it. Then University of Iowa, U of I and finally Purdue. Wonderful times indeed and no regrets, we were onto something new.

A pretend adventure at sea.

Green Lake waited politely. After a 17-year break, we returned with all our kids and their kids and easily fell under the spell of Green Lake once again. Green Lake 2013 Post We meandered, shopped a little, stared awestruck at the brighter stars, sipped cider, talked about nothing and everything. We still rented the fishing cabin but added the larger lodge for our crowd sized group.

Five more years flew by sans a trip to the town until last weekend. Tom and I and the “Bigs” as we call grandchildren # 1, 2, & 3, did a perfect reenactment. Including the football that got tossed all the way into the town square. The grand adventure occurred when it landed in the river, but a dramatic rescue ensued. No doubt that story will live on for decades.

Always a puzzle on hand.

Just like always, We meandered, shopped a little, stared awestruck at the brighter stars, sipped cider, talked about nothing and everything. Like five years ago, we also built a fire and roasted s’mores right before the flashlight walk when they stayed up way later than their parent’s policy. Oh well.

Walking to “town.”

As we dropped them off, the question, “Can we go back to Green Lake next year?” was already in the air. The legacy was clearly passed to the third generation.

Yes, my loves, we can always go back. Even if just in our memories and photos, as the imprint is deep and near at hand. But I put it on the calendar just in case!

Hope for the best,

Tish

When Tish Met Tom

49 years ago today an uneventful meeting in a high school gym forever altered the course of my life. But the story started the summer before that…

I landed on the campus of Denver University in the summer between my sophomore and junior year of college to take a couple of classes.  Didn’t know anyone, just how I wanted it.

My soul and the rest of my life was restless and uncertain. All I thought I believed in felt questionable, God especially.  My young-girl faith couldn’t quite bridge the gaps.  The mountains seemed like a safe place to hide or find myself again.

Next to my dorm sat Evans Chapel.  Same John Evans that founded my town, Evanston, but of course I couldn’t see that far ahead.  The small aisle inside the chapel allowed me to stretch out and cry for help, if anyone was listening.

Apparently, someone was.  As I exited the chapel one evening, a guy began to talk to me about Jesus. I told him no more religion.  “No problem, this is Relationship.”  I desperately wanted relationship.

And then I fell in love.  Not with the guy (I never saw him again) but with Jesus.  OK, so it wasn’t love at first sight but by the end of the summer I didn’t want to break up.

We’re still together.  He knows all my quirks and loves me anyway.  I get mad but don’t walk out.  Our communication skills are pretty good after all this time.

Soooooo…back to campus in the Midwest.

My Colorado friends told me to look up a group called “Intervarsity” a campus group of Jesus’ followers. I never heard of it.

The first day back, I was moving too fast coming out of an elevator and literally ran into a girl carrying a poster which got knocked out of her hand due to the collision. Apologetically, I picked it up to hand it back and saw it advertising an event, for Intervarsity!

Me: Oh Intervarsity, I was going to look that up here.

Her: Why don’t you come to the event, it is this weekend?

Me: Yeah, maybe!

Her: Have you met Tom Suk? He lives in this dorm, he will be at the event, I can introduce you.

Me: Don’t know him. Thanks for the info.

Friday night, Sept 18, 1970, I nervously walked into the “Action Bash” my new friend invited me to. Fortunately, she was watching for me and quickly came over to talk.

Let me introduce you to Tom… and she led me down the hall to the gym. His long hair pulled back in a pony tail, wearing a white tee-shirt and blue jeans, he was playing basketball. Politely, he stepped out of the game to meet me.

No immediate sparks but we were in the same dorm, the same group, pretty soon the same Bible studies and by January, I was totally smitten! Him…not so fast ☹

Three years later we pledged our lives in marriage to one another forever.

And every year, on September 18, we remember the nondescript start that set everything else into motion.

Hope for the best,

Tish

 

The Lost and Found Napkin Ring

My mom was what you would call “big on manners.” She had very definite ideas of what could be on the dinner table like bowls and pitchers and what wasn’t allowed like pans and cartons.

From time to time she would fine us for “bad manners” like a dime for an infraction. Sometimes it was more fun to choose crude and sacrifice a dime for the cause. Or my brothers thought so!

I have a memory of going to something like charm school on a small-scale to improve my skills. No boys allowed in the class. She tried hard.

Cloth napkins were held in high value at our house and one day a package showed up in the mail with a silver-ish napkin ring for each of us with our name on it. My mom was so thrilled with these like she had just won the sweepstakes.

At the end of every meal we would insert our used napkin in the ring for the next round at the table. Cut down on laundry she thought, another high value.

Then the napkin rings stopped showing up because we stopped showing up. Off to college, jobs, new locations with new families. I forgot all about them.

Funny, but when I started setting my own tables though, napkin rings often made an appearance. I picked them up at my usual spots like garage sales and resale shops. I guess folks were downsizing and cast them off. I have quite a collection 🙂 Bowls and pitchers too. I guess the message “took.”

Some of my napkin rings.

Last May we had an auction for my mom’s stuff she no longer needed. Like minded stuff sold together and one of my high school classmates bought a kitchen box. A few weeks later she called my brother to tell him she found something I might want: my napkin ring! It wasn’t lost after all, just hiding.

The lowly napkin ring became like the straw turned to gold. Nothing to do with the $ value and all about nostalgia: Memories of hamburgers served at the fake wood table on Saturday nights, the way mom lined up all five napkin rings like museum artifacts, her now precious insistence we learn how to dine not just eat.

Thanks Mom for the napkin rings and all you hoped they would deliver. I think they did the job. I’ll try hard not to lose it again.

Hope for the best,

Tish