Shooting Stars

If the sky is clear tonight, the meteor shower known as the Leonids will be visible. I won’t be able to see them but I’ve seen the shower known as the Delta Aquarids which is visible during July 15th to August 15th, and the shower, Perseids which is seen from July 25th to August 18th.

Shortly after the war when Mom and Dad owned the Sky Ranch on King’s Mountain in California, the family, with the exception of my sister who lived with her husband in New York, lived at the Sky Ranch. My husband and I with our baby son lived in a small cabin on the grounds and a sister and her husband and baby daughter lived in another small building we called the ‘Chuck Wagon. Mom and Dad with my younger brothers lived in the main building.

At the end of the day, we usually gathered at Mom and Dad’s to share our day’s experiences. In the winter time we sat around the huge fireplace, but on summer nights we generally sat outdoors until bed time, enjoying the wonderful fragrance of the trees and the soft mountain air.

The meteor shower usually took us by surprise. One of us would spot a shooting star and make a wish. As they began streaking across the sky, we were filled with wonderment at the display. The night sky would be filled with glowing meteors that continued to delight us for several hours before the stunning display would dwindle to only a few. The showers created evenings of magic for us, and we made secret wishes. During the nights of the annual showers, the beauty was repeated each night. The sight of so many flaming meteors in the sky at the same time was always a thrill.

50 Years

50 years and counting! My brother R and his wife F, who live in California, recently celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. R has the distinction of being the only one of my brothers and sisters to celebrate this anniversary so far. R and F’s daughter A and her husband N, hosted a dinner party at their home in honor of the occasion. I was unable to attend but A sent photos showing everyone having a great time.

R and F are grandparents to J 14 and W 17. I have never met the boys, but they have winning smiles in the photos. A grows more beautiful as the years pass; she and N are blessed to have such handsome sons.

Being the oldest of eight children, I have memories of each sibling as they joined the family. R, the 7th child, was an adorable blond baby. I often changed his diaper when he was a toddler. Because R was always curious, we children helped Mom keep an eye on him so he wouldn’t get into to trouble.

One day, after school, as I walked into the house, I smelled a strange medicinal odor and the house was unusually quiet. As I walked thru the downstairs rooms I thought it strange that Mom was no where to be found. As I started to push back the sliding wooden doors into one of the rooms, Dad came to the door and told me Dr. Wray was with R; there had been an accident. Before he disappeared back inside the room, he asked me to help keep the smaller children quiet until the Dr. was finished.

We sat quietly at the dining room table and shushed each other as we wondered what kind of accident could have happened. After Dr. Wray left the house, the folks told us what had occurred. Mom was doing the laundry and was washing a load in her new Maytag washing machine. It had an electric wringer that squeezed the water out as the clothes were fed thru the rubber rollers. While she was upstairs gathering dirty clothes, R climbed on a chair and got his arm caught in the wringer. His arm had passed thru the rubber rollers all the way to his shoulder. Rather than stopping, the rollers continued to spin. His screams brought Mom, who quickly released the mechanism, but the damage to his soft baby tissue was severe.

The Dr. came every day to change bandages. R was confined to bed for months. When he was well enough to be out of bed, he had to learn to walk all over again. My sister AM and I often took turns with Mom and Dad holding his hand as he tottered around the room. We had to be careful not to let him fall and hurt his arm. As the wounds healed, we kids often asked him to show us his arm. Gradually the scars began to fade and look less hideous. Eventually, R was able to use his arm as naturally as if there had never been an accident.

R was always eager to join in what ever activity the rest of us were involved in. He lived in the swimming pool in the hot Iowa summers and played in the snow during the cold Iowa winters. When we lived on the asparagus farm, he went to a one room country school. During WWll the family moved to California and settled on the San Francisco Peninsula. R and F also chose to make their home in the vicinity, as has A and N.

The years have passed in a flash but it seems only yesterday I attended R and F’s wedding and reception. It’s nice to know they have prospered, enjoy congenial friends and remain in good health. I congratulate and wish them continued happiness as they begin the next 50 years.

Veteran’s Day

As Mary, my sister-in-law, and I chatted on the phone yesterday, our conversation centered on memories of family and relatives who had fought in American wars. She told me about her father who fought in World War 1. He had been gassed while fighting in the Ardennes. When the gas attack began, he was able to quickly dig a hole under a fallen and decaying tree, crawled in and covered himself as best he could. Later when he thought it safe enough he left the burrow he had made and the first thing he saw was a soldier friend laying near by, killed by the gas. He was taken in by a French family that cared and nursed him for a short time. The family had a small daughter named Bernice and years later, Mary’s father named his first daughter Bernice after the youngster.

Mary, who grew up in Sioux City, Iowa, and I, across the state in Iowa Falls, recalled how we were taught to observe Veteran’s Day. If November 11th was a school day, we were ushered into the assembly hall to stand quietly. When the Principal announced the time as being exactly 11 o’clock, we bowed our heads in total silence for one whole minute. It wasn’t called Veteran’s Day, but Armistice Day. After the silent prayer, students were allowed to go home since school was in session for only half a day.

During WWII my family had members in all services, Army, Navy, Waves, Marines, Air Force and the Merchant Marines. They fought in India, Europe, Germany, France, England, Pacific Islands, and on Atlantic voyages to and from the Soviet Union. War news was constantly on one’s mind. Each time I watch a war movie, I recall memories of anxiety and dread as family and friends waited for war news to be headlined.

Last night I watched the movie Patton on TV. I’ve seen the film many times but last night’s viewing seemed to have romanced the battles for territory as competition for prestige and glory was played out between the ambitious generals, Patton and Montgomery each trying to reach Berlin first. I wondered if jealousy existed between the generals we have in Iraq and if so, how it might be affecting the troops.

To days TV news clips showed impressive ceremonies at Arlington National Cemetery and at the Wall dedicated to those who died in Vietnam. Observances through out the country paid tribute to all the veterans living and dead that have served this country. I was especially moved by a story of a young 15 year old girl who played taps on her bugle during one of the many ceremonies. The 24 notes were played beautifully and perfectly. Afterward she told a reporter she believed those who died fighting for this country were due the honor of a real person playing taps rather than recorded ones.

Miss Mimi

Miss Mimi is a kitten. Her long Persian fur is cream color with dark brown points. Her eyes are blue. She has “come to my house to stay while I wash the cups and saucers and brush the crumbs away.” * Thanks to the Hope Volunteer group, she has been vetted and is ready to be a house cat after being rescued from a degrading future life on the streets, starvation or getting killed by a car.

Miss Mimi is one of 4 kittens born to a calico cat hardly out of kitten hood herself. One day the mother cat appeared in the apartment parking lot during rainy weather and took refuge as best she could. She was obviously in a ‘family way’. Her cries of hunger brought results when ‘B’, a tenant who owned a beautiful dark brown Siamese, took pity on her and put food out for her. Personally, I thought the animal control people should be notified but softer hearts prevailed. Even the landlord thought keeping her around the place to ward off rats and mice was a good idea. ‘B’ named her Suzie Q.

When the kittens, 3 cream colored and 1 black, made their appearance, tenants discussed the future of the mother and the babies. It was decided that spaying was a priority. ‘B’ researched the whys and wherefores and discovered that the Hope Agency would vet the mother and kittens free of charge. I was one of the tenants that chose to adopt a kitten and I chose the alpha female.

Having a pet cat that uses a litter box is a new experience for me. The cats I’ve known have all been indoor/outdoor cats. During the years Dad worked repairing antiques in his wood shop, he often adopted a stray cat that would become his special pet. They would ride on his shoulder half curled around the back of his neck and purr while Dad went about his work.

Miss Mimi has been a house cat for two days and is adjusting nicely to the apartment. Her natural curiosity is leading her to new discoveries. Gone are the trees, shrubs, grass, pavement, bricks and dirt under the building where she hid with the other kittens when people came too close. Now she walks on carpet, is surrounded by television pictures, telephone rings, on and off electric light, pillow cushions, window ledges, and secret dark hiding places behind doors and in closets and most important of all, a litter box. No more little insects to taste or chameleons to catch. Now it’s a ball of yarn, catnip and lots and lots of petting. Time will tell if I own a cat, or if a cat owns me.


* From the poem, Little Orphan Annie by James Whitmore Riley which can be read at the following address: http://www.judyn.trest.com/OrphanAnnie.html