Touching

Guess what was on the morning news this morning? The results of a number of scientific studies now prove that human touch is good for us! A gentle touch on someone’s arm can calm them during a stressful moment. A hug is better than medication. A shoulder to cry on is better than a therapy session. And a shoulder massage can make the whole miserable week bearable.


They have actually been able to show that touch lowers the heart rate and breathing rate. It also counters the stress substances our body sends out with another substance that our brain sends out in response to touch.

I think most of us know this instinctively. We soothe babies with touch. We fix boo-boos with kisses. We welcome strangers and friends alike with a warm handshake. We touch coma victims.

I just read about a man pulling a young woman out of a burning car. She had extensive injuries. He couldn’t do much for her while waiting for help but in his own words, “I kept my hand on her shoulder so she would know she was not alone.”

At the time of my first husband’s death, I needed to buy a shirt for him to be buried in. Not used to buying men’s dress shirts, my best friend’s husband went with me to the local mall. It was two weeks before Christmas. The mall was teeming with shoppers. I was overwhelmed by my feelings of vulnerability. I clung to his arm like a little girl. It kept me grounded.

Several of my childbirths were difficult. Again, it was my husband’s touch that kept me grounded. During one particular birth, I could not hear or acknowledge anyone around me but I felt his hand on my back. It was something to focus on.

I am a toucher by nature. I have been known to give perfect strangers an arm touch or a hug. I have noticed over the years that some of us have become so used to NOT touching that it has become uncomfortable. I have learned to ask for permission first. I had begun to think maybe it wasn’t worth doing anymore.

But this morning news report has changed that. I will keep touching. Maybe if more of us begin to “reach out and touch someone”, some of the anger we see all around us will diminish and smiles may appear. Hey, we have science on our side.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The View from My Side of the Street: Driver Distractions

The View from My Side of the Street: Driver Distractions: "Driving along the freeway yesterday, I heard a news report about “driver distraction”. Apparently, our country’s lawmakers are discussing la..."

Driver Distractions

Driving along the freeway yesterday, I heard a news report about “driver distraction”. Apparently, our country’s lawmakers are discussing laws banning cell phone use. They were especially concerned about making texting while driving illegal. They are concerned that this particular “distraction” was extremely dangerous. Well, DUH!!!


My concern is a little different. How do you enforce a law like that? Our state bans hands on cell phone use while driving. That’s a relatively easy one- if you have a cell phone pressed to your ear and they see it – TICKET.

But those stupid enough to be texting while driving are going to lower the phone until it’s hidden from view and keep texting. Now, instead of an idiot texting on the phone up by the steering wheel where they can kinda sorta keep an eye on the road, the phone will be close to their lap and no eyes will be on the road! And unless police develop x-ray vision, how are they going to know?

I wonder if lawmakers will start passing other “driver distraction” laws. Why haven’t they banned smoking? I was side swiped by someone trying to light their cigarette. Someone else I know dropped a lit cigarette on his lap. He was momentarily more concerned about a possible burning crotch than driving. He went off the road and hit a sign post. Hey, isn’t it a distraction for a driver to be looking in purse or pocket for that ever elusive lighter?

How about eating and drinking in the car while driving? Ever spilled very cold soda or very hot coffee all over your self? Weren’t you a little distracted? I watched a young man trying to drive thru Boise traffic at night while eating a plate of nachos. He had his overhead light on, the cheese covered plate in one hand, eating with the other hand, and driving with his knees. It was scary!

We’ve all seen women putting on makeup while driving. While I have marveled at their ability to do it and not end up looking like Bozo the clown, I have also been amazed at their recklessness. Where is the law against that?

And finally, ANYONE who has ever driven ANYWHERE with children in the car knows what a HUGE distraction that can be!! It doesn’t matter if you are driving 2 blocks or 2 states away. It doesn’t matter if you have 1 child or 10 children in the car. It doesn’t matter if you are driving through rush hour traffic or a lonely country lane. They don’t even have to say anything to be distracting. Sometimes, the fact that they are so quiet can be a distraction.

Many years ago, I was driving in a snow storm and I totaled my car (no one was badly hurt) because I turned around in my seat to pull one child off another. It only took a moment of distraction. I lost control of the car and slid into a ditch.

So, my concern is once the lawmakers start trying to protect us from ourselves, where do they stop? A good driver will always be a good driver. A careless driver will always be a careless driver. No law will ever change that.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Popcorn Popping

Popcorn is an amazing food. I’m not even quite sure what food group it is in. I’m thinking grain but it could be vegetable or if it’s the microwave kind, it could qualify for the fat group.


I haven’t meant very many people who hate it. It’s inexpensive and healthy if you air pop it and add your own flavoring. When all my children were home, we made it almost every day. It’s a great snack food. I know one couple who have it for supper every once and awhile. Our family has been known to eat it for breakfast. We have also eaten it in place of saltines when we’ve had upset tummies in the house. We use a certain hardware and also a tire store because they have free popcorn.

My very old cookbook has several recipes for popcorn- the classic popcorn ball, caramel corn, popcorn and milk, and popcorn pudding. I’m thinking of trying that one.

It’s almost impossible to NOT buy it if you go to the movies, even though you might have to sell one of your children to afford it. If one person in a household makes it, EVERYONE is going to want some. The aroma drifts through the house enticing the entire household to ask, “Is that popcorn?” It smells heavenly when cooked right and well, like hell, if it gets burnt.

Case in point- Brent and I were trucking during the Christmas holidays a few years ago. We were spending Christmas Eve at a truck stop in Oklahoma City. The TV room was packed with other truckers. The store was packed with travelers getting gas and food while heading to Grandma’s or wherever. I had brought a couple of bags of micro corn in with me. There was no microwave in the truckers lounge so I ventured into the crowded store. I found it in a far corner, set down under the counter. The store was so loud that I had to sit on the floor to listen to the popping to make sure there was no burning. Within seconds, I heard the comments, “Is that popcorn?” People began looking for the source. I crouched even lower.

The crowd converged on the checkout girl, “Do you have a popcorn machine?” She was as confused as they were. They were still looking every where. I tried to get smaller. Everything I’d ever heard about angry mobs was going through my head. After what felt like hours, the popcorn was done. I hid the bags under my coat and snuck into the TV lounge.

I had just settled down with my husband to watch the movie when I heard murmuring in the back row, “Does anyone smell popcorn? Do they sell hot popcorn here?”

We put the bags under our coats and made a quick getaway out the side door. It wasn’t that we were afraid of our safety as much as we were afraid of having to answer the question- “Your popcorn or your life?”

“Umm, can we think about it?” That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Back in time

I love to read cookbooks!! I really like reading old cookbooks. There is nothing that can transport me back to a kinder, gentler, caring world more thoroughly than an old cookbook.


I have one that is 98 yrs old. There are no oven temps given because the ovens were wood fueled. Instructions are something like, quick oven, slow oven, moderate heat, etc. It has chapters that teach what a butlers duties are, what a 12 course meal should look like, it gives party instructions, shows how to properly butcher, has a budget chapter, advice for new wives, sample menus, foods for the sick or convalescent and hold unto your hats now, it has a whole chapter on healthy eating!

Did you know that there are “fuel foods and tissue building foods”? How about that a “mixed diet is ideal for optimum health as well as plenty of water”? That the rapid growth in childhood and in our youth “requires a larger quantity of building foods” but as we near middle age, “these amounts should be diminished so as not to cause an overtaxing of the organs that can lead to disease later on”?

This chapter suggests the insane idea that our nutritional needs differ according to our size, our sex, even our jobs! It goes on to state that how we cook our food greatly influences nutritional value. It suggests that whole grains are better for us than refined. Honey is far superior to white sugar.

I have also learned that cleanliness and sterilization techniques in the kitchen are ESSENTIAL to continued household health! Who knew?

From the book’s intro: “We hope the book will contribute something to the FINE ART OF LIVING in many homes, making those homes the happier and more attractive for the husband and children, and solving many a problem for brides and beginners.” And we thought Martha Stewart pioneered that phrase.

“With this book as a guide, it will be possible for any woman to live WITHIN HER MEANS and still have that infinite variety on the table which means so much for appetite and health.” Stick to a budget, now there’s a novel idea!

From a 77 yr old cookbook comes my favorite: “ There’s a flavor of home that distinguishes the kitchen cookies, the cookies of our childhood, from all others. Perhaps it is the love that goes into the making-or it may be that the old kitchen stove manages to infuse a mysterious element into its products. But say what you will, mother’s molasses cookies, ginger cookies and hermits remain the most delectable food offered mortals. What could be better calculated to put the seal of hospitality on a home than a well-filled cookie crock?”

And we think we’ve become so advanced! I don’t know about you but I’d love to go backwards a little bit. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Mother Guilt Revisted

There was a time in my life when I bought actual wheat which I ground into flour in order to give my family the most nutritious bread, cookies, cakes, etc. I baked everyday. The cookie jar was always full. We never bought bread. We made doughnuts, muffins, gingerbread, coffee cakes for snacks. Biscuits, rolls, cornbread accompanied every evening meal.


We ate home grown eggs, drank homegrown milk, and home grown vegetables. I made our own jams and jellies. I canned our own garden produce.

We watched little TV. The children played for hours outside using their imaginations. As a family, we ate meals together, went to church, visited grandparents regularly, spent summer days at the beach and winter days were spent reading, performing plays, making things, etc.

Sounds great, right? I had worked very hard to achieve what I used to call, “an Ozzie and Harriet existence in an Ozzie Osbourne world”. Some of you are drooling, some are hating me right about now, some of you are wondering what the catch is.

This was yet another lesson in the futility of “mother guilt”. I felt so good about our life at this time. I had come close to my idea of family perfection. My children, however, had different ideas. I began to get the following complaints, “Homemade cookies AGAIN? When are you going to get us store bought ones like the other kids at school have?”

“Mom, how come you don’t have a job? All my friends get to go to a babysitter’s after school. “

This is the one that really got to me, “My best friend goes to her Dad’s on weekends. I only get to come here. It’s not fair!!”

Once more, I realized that feeling guilty about what I did or didn’t do was a total waste of time!! No matter what I did they would find something to hate. It’s the nature of the parent-child relationship. I’ve also come of know something else. I now know that most of my choices as a parent were for me to become the type of parent I wanted to be. Our children will grow up to become the kind of parents that they want to be. They will not follow exactly in my footsteps and really, I don’t want them to.

It’s like painting pictures. We all use the same basic colors but our paintings all come out different. That’s the way it is supposed to be. So, don’t worry-be happy!

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The Ham

Once upon a time, a newly wed couple sat down to their first real Sunday dinner together. The husband noticed that his wife had cut the ham in half and cooked it in two pans. He had never seen a ham cooked that way. He asked her why she had done so. She thought for a moment and replied, “That’s the way my mother has always cooked ham.” The husband thought this was strange but he soon forgot all about it.


Until the day they found themselves at his mother-in-law’s for dinner. There in the middle of the table was a large ham, cut in two pieces. “Mom, I’ve never seen a ham cooked like this. Can you explain to me why you do it that way?” She looked perplexed and replied, “Well, dear, my mother always cooked the ham this way.” Now he was intrigued. During the week, he and his wife made the several hour trip to visit Grandma.

He explained his quest for knowledge, “Grandma, my wife cuts the ham in two, places it in two pans and puts it in the oven to cook. She says it’s because her mom cooks ham that way. When I asked Mom why she cooked ham that way, her answer was that you always did it. Grandma , why did you cut the ham before you cooked it?”

He was unprepared for her response. She began laughing! It took her a few minutes to compose herself enough to blurt out, “My dears, I never owned a pan big enough to put the entire ham into. I had to cut it to make it fit.”

There are those of us in this world that will always question why the ham is cut in half. I shudder to think where the world would be without them. What I can never understand is the fact that the people that are content to cut the ham in two, generation after generation hate the people that question, “Why do you do it that way?” And they do hate them.

History is full of examples- inventers, artists, teachers, writers. The list is miles long of those who looked for a better way and those that hated them for it. We can go all the way back to the inventor of the wheel. Can’t you hear the complaints? “Ooga, meega, dooga, humph!!” (translation- carrying these stones up the hill was good enough for your father, his father and his father before him. Why do you always have to make waves?”)

I say thank god for the wave makers- we’d still be lugging those rocks up the hill! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Grown ups

A few weeks ago, my husband and I had the chance to go with another couple to do some yard work for their daughter’s family. This family had been on the other side of the country for almost a year while the husband had military training. They had rented out their home with less than satisfactory results. So the four of us hoped that we could make the homecoming a little less overwhelming by doing whatever we could.


It was a pearly gray day which was perfect for us. Our usual weather is hot, dry and windy. We headed out early with 2 pickups loaded with everything we could think of. Although we had been told about the yard conditions, we were still shocked when we arrived. It had not been watered all summer which means grass dies, desert weeds flourish. It was a dry, dead, overgrown mess!

What happened next was little short of a miracle in these days but none of us thought much of it until later. Without a word to each other we grabbed our gear and went to work. My husband and I headed to the backyard. He worked the weed eater, I mowed. Then he used a pitchfork to pull up the beaten down grass and weeds, I mowed.

My girlfriend, who is suffering from a back injury, puttered carefully in the house and out. She was able to hold the hose to water the long dead flower gardens. She arranged the flowers we brought so we could plant them.

Her husband did the weed eating in the front and side yards. He also mowed.

We worked solid for four hours, stopping only for pee breaks and a drink. We didn’t say more than 6 sentences to each other during that entire time. We did a huge amount of work. It was pleasant!!

What we all found so amazing was that no one had to be the BOSS. We didn’t need anyone to tell us what to do. No one had to make a PLAN. We all knew what needed to be done. No one had to CHECK UP on anyone. We are all good workers.

Maybe it’s because we all know each other well. Maybe it’s because we’re all the same age. Maybe it’s because we all care about that young family. BUT maybe, just maybe that’s the way it’s SUPPOSED to work in an adult world. WOW- what a thought!

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Halloween

I hate Halloween! I absolutely, positively hate it! I didn’t always hate it. As a child I remember loving it. I think I began hating it after I had children of my own. I had more children than money and even buying candy to give out was a budget buster.


What was especially hard for me was the fact that I was trying to teach my children to be giving people. Halloween is so selfish! Give me, give me, give me and I got more than you did. I hated the bargaining that always took place over the next few days- “I’ll give you my Almond Joy for three of your blow pops.”

Thank goodness costumes weren’t as big of a deal as they are today. Zero money was spent on costumes at my house. My children usually made their own from the dress up basket we always had. At least the lucky ones did. Those who did not got stuck with my creations.

Considering that I am not a sewer and the fact that I waited till the last minute because I was hoping everyone would have chicken pox or something, I thought I did pretty darn good. Besides, I reasoned, they are not going to remember what they wore to a Halloween party when they were four. I forgot about pictures and an older brother with the memory of an elephant!

So one year I wrapped a couple of small boxes with gift wrap and bows. I cut a whole for head and arms. I slid my 18 month old and his 2 ½ yr. old brother into them. Then I taped a sign on each gift that read, “Good things come in small packages.” I thought it was cute!

Another year I was attending our church’s party without my significant other, (he had to work). That meant me, four children under the age of six and lots of SUGAR. I was frantic until I came up with the idea to go to the party as a pumpkin patch. We all put on various sizes of pumpkin lawn bags. We stuffed them with newspaper and we were all tied together with green twine. I thought it was brilliant!

My all time high (or low if you’re talking to my kids) was the year I messed up weekends. I realized the party was that night about 2 hours before we were supposed to be there. I tried fervently, to talk my children out of going but I had no luck. I was out voted.

I wracked my brain for something- anything to use for costumes. While doing chores in the barn I noticed a stack of empty bags that were waiting to be thrown away. They were large dog food bags. I took them in, cut arm and leg holes, stuck each of my children in one and stapled the top. And yes, we went to the party as dog food.

It might not have been so bad but for the first time ever there was a costume judging contest. The children circled the gym while everyone else watched. One family came as Robin Hood and his merry men. She said she made the costumes but I KNOW that she got the costumes from Hollywood. And then, right behind them came five bags of dog food. I wanted to die!

If my younger children ever complain about their costumes my older ones look at each other and their siblings with disgust. “At least Mom has never made you be a bag of dog food.”

I told you- I hate Halloween! That’s the view from my side of the street. What’s yours?

Transitions

During the child birthing process there is a time called transition. It is the most intense and painful segment of labor. It is usually at this time that even the most committed of natural birth advocates find themselves pleading, “Give me drugs, anything, I don’t care, just make it go away.”


Although it is the most intense stage of labor, it is also the shortest. Its duration is about 15 or 20 minutes. Transition is when the REAL work of labor takes place. Often a new contraction starts before the last one is over. The urgency to push begins. The body takes over and you could probably stop a train easier than to try and stop what’s happening now. It ends with an amazing new person being placed in a mother’s arms.

One of the many miracles of birth is the fact that not only do you survive this process but memories of the intensity begin to fade almost immediately. A new phase of motherhood has just begun.

Transition is also what we call the time period between life changes. It is possibly the most difficult stage of life. Most of the people I’ve talked to over the years HATE transitions. It is emotionally painful, intellectually intense and spiritually challenging.

It is a time in our lives when we are forced to ask who am I now? What should I be doing? What do I want to be when I grow up? Our world is shook up and we are struggling to put all the pieces together.

Many things can happen to cause transitions- new jobs, no jobs, schooling changes, health issues, new family members, deaths, moves, empty nests, marriages, divorces, etc.

We can be overwhelmed with the change and plead, “Just make it go away, please!” And yet, when it ends, as it almost always does, an amazing new person is placed in our arms- ourselves. Very soon, the intensity of our transition begins to fade. We throw ourselves into the “new” and let go of the “old”. We look back and realize how much we’ve learned.

Until the next transition finds us again pleading, “Just make it go away!” Boy, are we stupid!

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Out of order

The month before a wedding is usually a busy time to all those involved. It was no different for my son and his fiancée. Both had work, school and a new apartment they were making into a home. Often, each one would find themselves at the apartment alone for a few minutes here and there. Both were very excited about moving in after the wedding.


One day, my daughter-in-law had a little extra time. She used it to put her kitchen together. She was delighted with the results! Her very own kitchen- I remember that feeling, don’t you? Anyway, she left feeling pleased and satisfied.

Imagine her chagrin when upon arriving at the apartment a few days later she found that my son had redone many of the cupboards!! She was crushed! She felt like a loser who couldn’t even put soup, corn or sugar away right! It was devastating!

I heard the story a few years after it had happened. Upon hearing it, I dropped my face to my hands and mumbled my apologies. She looked surprised as she replied, “Why are you sorry? You don’t even know what he did.”

Lifting my head to look her in the eyes, I said, “Oh, yes, I do. He lined up all the cans of corn together, then beans, applesauce, etc. Didn’t he?”

The answer, of course, was yes. She had never seen it done that way before and he had never seen it done any other way. In our family, when organized in such a way, putting the food away after shopping was easy enough for a toddler to do. So, often, it was the toddler’s job. They could match the pictures and stack cans. What toddler doesn’t love that?

It also became easier to send a non reading child for what was needed. They could see the pictures.

The biggest benefit of all was how easy it was to see what was needed at the store or for dinner by just a quick glance at the shelves! When possible, I keep all my food in a closet or small room rather than spread out in a bunch of closed cupboards. I do this so I can see it all at once. This does not apply to much used items like baking things but again, all my baking things are in one or two cupboards. I can make chocolate chip cookies while standing in one spot. I’m not looking thru cupboards for the items I need.

These simple habits have saved money and sanity many times over the years. By the time, my daughter-in-law shared the story with me she had seen how well the plan works. I apologized to her for having been so anal about it during my son’s growing up years. I now apologize to my other daughters-in-law as well as any future daughters-in-law. And to my children, there is no right or wrong way to stack cans, there are no can police that will come to get you, different is just different!

That’s the view from my side of the street today, what’s yours?

parenting101

Remember the day that you first found out that a baby was on the way? The excitement, the nervousness, the nausea- and I’m just talking about dad! Remember all those months of planning and waiting? You both worked for hours getting everything ready.


Then the big day is finally here. Contractions are progressing well- this is really it!! Let’s go! Much of labor is forgotten as that beautiful, amazing new person is placed in your arms. Waves of love and awe wash over you as you examine fingers, toes, and other tiny features. Everything is so perfect!!

Never in your wildest imagination could you believe that that incredibly sweet baby will in about 15 years be standing in your kitchen calling you names. It’s probably a good thing that babies DON’T come with warning tags. We might be very tempted to send them back!

We can never fully prepare for the moments when our offspring turn on us. We can think through all possible responses and yet at that moment go completely blank. Or worse overreact- you are grounded for life! We’ve all used that one.

Let me tell you about a few of these moments in my life. It was the day before Thanksgiving. My kitchen and myself were covered in flour as I helped everyone make their favorite pie (a family Thanksgiving tradition). I was tired, hot and my patience was close to being all used up. There were 18 pies cooling on the counters. Two of my sons started fighting. I ordered them to stop and fell right into the trap. “No, and you can’t make me.” was one son’s reply. He was the one that never did know when to shut up.

Too tired to sidestep the power play as I should have, I insisted that I could indeed stop him. I think I made a vague threat about his physical well being. He replied, “I’ll call the police if you touch me.”

I was in trouble now. The whole family was watching this, it being the first time that such a thing had happened! I looked at the rolling pin in my hand. Then I looked at the phone on the far kitchen wall. I looked back at my son and very slowly said, “Well, son, you’d have to get by me first and if you tried I’d have to flatten you.”

The rest of the family cracked up laughing and he realized that his room might be a good place to be for awhile.

My all time favorite, however, was pure inspiration given at the moment. My 16 yr old son and I were having our first big argument. He was very angry and he called me the B word (the one that means a female dog).

Without skipping a beat, I said, “You know what that makes you? Do you? Well, do you?” His face was blank and confused. “That makes you a son of a B….!”

He couldn’t help it. He started laughing. So did I. He never swore at me again. And he had a good story to tell his friends. See, pure inspiration!

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The kindness of strangers

“The kindness of strangers” is a phrase from a Tennessee Williams’ play. The sentiment behind it is something that we have very definitely lost in today’s world. We have good reasons today to be afraid of stranger kindness and yet, it strengthens the bonds of humanity when it is given or received. I wanted to share a few choice experiences I’ve had on the receiving end.


A few years ago, Brent and I spent about 8 months trucking all over the U.S. and Canada. At one point, the truck needed a couple of days at the truck doctor’s. Since it was our home and we couldn’t be in it while it was being worked on, we had a problem!

We were in a very small town and unsure of where to find lodging, I asked an older woman working at the small grocery store if she knew where we could stay for the night. Almost instantly, she replied, “How about at my place?” I thanked her, told her we had a dog and lots of laundry so she might want to reconsider. No problem, dog and laundry were both welcome.

I echoed her offer to my husband who had just come in. Speaking very quietly I said, “She doesn’t LOOK like an ax murderer, what do you think?” We accepted. She gave us the key and directions to her house. By the time she and her husband got home from work we had showered, done our clothes and gave the dog a bath in the laundry room. We were fed a wonderful meal and had a delightful evening. We talked with each other as if we were old friends. She too had been afraid to make the offer but she had thought “They don’t LOOK like ax murderers!”

Another time, we were in an area of the country that had next to no truck stops or truck parking. Having finally found a spot, we dared not leave it. We were there, in the cab, for 4 days. Three of those days brought heavy rain. We needed supplies. We needed to get OUT of the truck. On the third day, my husband asked the cook inside for directions to the nearest Wal-Mart. We not only got directions but also the keys to his car!!

When Brent returned to the truck to tell me, my first question was, “What kind of car is it? Is he going to report it stolen or what?” Shame on me. We did our shopping which now included a thank you card and donuts which we left in the car.

Both of these people took a risk as did we. Neither of these people truly understood the extent of their service to us. They felt like their offerings were small but to us they were huge! It also made us long for a simpler time when the “kindness of strangers” was the norm not the exception.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?