Thanks for the Memories

My mother-in-law owned Thanksgiving. Janet Franklin had it down. Somehow every year at 2 o'clock we would find ourselves sitting at her dining room table filled with bowls of food that were traditional, comfortable, delicious, and hot.

She lived about seven minutes away from us in Riverside. When I would come over on the Monday or Tuesday before Thanksgiving to help clean her house for the big day, she would already have sheet cake pans of cubed bread for dressing drying on her counters.

Invariably on her kitchen table would be a yellow legal pad containing the brains of her operation--daily tasks to complete on the days leading up to Thanksgiving, and then a detailed timeline of Thanksgiving day, indicating when the turkey and each dish needed to be placed in the oven, at what time and temperature. She took into account her oven space, and also her daughter Julie's, who lived on the same street one block down.

Janet didn't get stressed out about the food. She worked her plan, and graciously accepted the help we offered. She allowed time for smoke breaks. She welcomed stray relatives and others who didn't have a place to go. My parents came several times. Her place was open, and an extra card table could always be set up for the kids.

When the plastic indicator on the 24-pound turkey had popped, and the hot bird had been precariously transferred to a platter, she'd call either Dave (my husband) or his brother Eric to carve it. Then all the side dishes could go back into the oven for a final warming, while she made gravy in the roasting pan.

One year she'd watched some TV show that suggested placing three beans on each plate and having everyone say what they were thankful for. So we did that, and everyone said they were thankful for family.

After a prayer and the endless passing of dishes, we could finally get down to the business of eating. I think the highest compliment to Janet's cooking was the complete silence that always fell over the table as we dug in.


One year as I was shopping at Albertson's for whatever I was planning to bring (maybe it was the year I tried making the rolls) I spotted the perfect item to make her Thanksgiving: a one-pound butter sculpture of a roasted Thanksgiving turkey. I think it was a Land O' Lakes product--hadn't seen it before, and I've never seen them since. I knew Janet would LOVE it. A little butter sculpture that you could use! I couldn't wait for Thanksgiving to place it on her table and see her delight.

As I sat down with everyone at the table that year before the prayer, I remembered the sculpture, safe in my fridge AT HOME. I let out an audible "Oh no!" I explained my surprise for Janet that I'd forgotten, but it was too late to go home. Even though I could be home and back in ten minutes, everything was already hot and on the table. I could tell she was disappointed. That memory goes down as one of the Top 10 regrets in my life. Maybe even in the Top 5.

Because it would have been a wonderful way that I could have given back to Janet for her Thanksgiving feast. A gift to show her I was thankful.

We didn't get her feasts every year. For a while Dave's dad and step mom would come up from Arizona every other year, so we would have Thanksgiving at his grandma's, and she would usually be invited to Thanksgiving with one of her brothers. I don't remember her complaining, although I think she would have preferred to have us every year. I think the situation just made her extra thankful when it was her turn to have us.

Janet died in the summer of 2007, so this will be the 6th Thanksgiving without her. In the years since, we traveled to Tucson once for Thanksgiving with his dad (buffet at a hotel), twice to Sedalia for Thanksgiving with Auntie Nan (Janet's little sister who has mannerisms so like Janet it's uncanny), and two times that I don't remember but I could look up in my diary if I wasn't so lazy and wanted to get this posted. Whatever we did, I know it wasn't memorable like Janet's Thanksgivings. For those memories, I am thankful. 

Chili, Candy, and Cousins

When our kids were little, one of our favorite Halloween traditions was trick-or-treating in Riverside with their cousins.

Dave's mom always had her large iron soup pot full of chili. We'd join Dave's brother Eric and sisters there early for dinner, then get the kids into their costumes and hit the streets.

Since we were in the neighborhood where they grew up, Dave and Eric often stopped to chat with former neighbors and show off their kids. ("See Batman over there? He's mine, and the S.W.A.T. team guy, and the princess.")

During the early years, I wondered at the wisdom of choosing Riverside, since all of the bungalows have five or six steps up to the porch. My job was helping the littlest one keep up with the others. Often the big kids were racing to the next house by the time the toddler got to the steps.

We knew that the house two doors down from Aunt Julie would have the spooky display, and the bravest would reach into the coffin to get the candy (the mechanical rat that had a motion sensor nearly sent me over the edge). And there was the house further down on Coolidge that gave out hot dogs and cans of pop. We were always full from chili so we never had hot dogs, but sometimes a drink was nice.

2006 was Janet's last Halloween. Aunt Julie has assumed chili-making duties some of the years, as she will tonight. Our kids are too old to trick-or-treat, although they still will. Let the fun begin.

Halloween 2001- Cousin Betsy with cat ears, Laurel as a cow (her trick was to say "moo") Cousin Kelsey as Josie and the Pussycats, Caleb as a dinosaur (costume handmade by Aunt Julie for Nathan and passed down to us), and Harrison as a knight in shining armor.

Halloween 2003- Laurel is a princess, Harrison as Batman, Kelsey as the Scream character, Caleb as a S.W.A.T. team guy.

 

 

 

 

Halloween 2005- Laurel as a puppy, Cousin Betsy as a pincess, Caleb and Harrison as Freedom Fighters (uncle Kurt hooked them up with fatigues and ammo boxes) and Cousin Kelsey as a basketball player.

Halloween 2006- Our last Halloween with Grandmother (wish I would have a picture of her with the kids) Harrison as a girl (his football coaches loved this picture!) Laurel as the Lady of Shalott (easier to say than Guinevere), and Caleb as the FBI.

Kansas Cyclops

One of the most surprising comments at my 25th high school class reunion this summer came from someone who wasn't in our class. Debbie (Penner) Kroeker was in the class ahead of us but married Jeff Kroeker in our class. They are teaching and coaching in Douglass, and she told me she uses one of my stories as a writing example each year!

Back when I was at Hillsboro High, Debbie's mom, Carolyn Penner, was the freshman English teacher. Most everyone grumbled about the journals she made us write in throughout the year, but I, of course, loved it. For the mythology unit she had us write our own myths. I wrote a little story about Kansas cyclops. Now I remember Mrs. Penner asking me for a copy of it and a few other pieces I wrote. Apparently she included it in her unit materials and eventually passed them on to her daughter.

Debbie, who I believe teaches 5th grade, says she has to remind her students that the sample story was written by a high school student, so they aren't intimidated instead of inspired.
I knew I saved my freshman journal, and I've been curious to see exactly what it was I wrote. This week I dragged the file box out of the closet and found it. Here it is, typing verbatim:

Kansas Cyclops
By Karen Epp, age 15, freshman at Hillsboro High School

A very long time ago, when the world was brand new, little creatures called cyclops lived in Olympus. There were hundreds and thousands of them and they roamed about that gloriously bright place wherever the wished.

Now these cyclops weren't barbarous giants like the cyclops you may have read about in the Odyssey. However, they were mischievous. Their favorite pasttime was pulling pranks on the gods. These one-eyed creatures particularly loved shiny and bright things.

Now, the sun god's rays were the brightest things in all of Olympus, so the cyclops were always stealing them. The sun god grew very angry and planned to banish the bothersome creatures to earth. To make sure they never stole anything again, he decided he would turn them into plants.

However, the cyclops found out his plan. They knew they would not be able to go against the immortal sun god's will, but they couldn't bear the thought of going to the dark and dismal world without their bright rays, so they stole as many of the sun god's rays as possible and hid them in their mouths.

The sun god finally got permission from Zeus to banish them so he rounded all of them up and sent them down to earth. He hadn't realized, however, that they still possessed some of his sun beams.

On earth the cyclops did turn into plants as the god had planned. They were bare-looking weeds with huge rough leaves and one brown staring eye at the top of the stalk. The cyclops hated the cold earth and put their stolen rays around their eye to warm them.

Yet, they wanted to return to the heavens and still today you can see the plant-cyclops looking up to the sun god, always watching and following his path across the sky, imploring him to grant their return.

Of course, you may better know them as sunflowers.

Most Likely to Succeed

Last weekend I went to my 25th high school reunion. Since our graduating class was only 48 people, we knew each other pretty well. However, I am amazed at what I didn't know.
I didn't know that Tracy Tucker dropped out after our freshman year. I don't remember ever hearing where she went--I guess I assumed she moved away. She had moved to Hillsboro as a "new girl" in 5th grade, living with her grandma, so maybe I could have guessed that her home life wasn't stable. I don't recall being curious. She seemed a little tough, but nice. She found friends in other circles.
At the reunion, Tracy said after dropping out she worked as a bartender. After a number of years, when she found herself nearly homeless with three children, she knew something had to change.
She got her GED, then went to college. A few sciences classes proved interesting, so she took a few more and found herself heading for medical school. After fourteen years of grueling study, hard choices, and single parenting, she became a doctor.
She now works as an ER doctor in Wichita. She's recently purchased some land near Emporia and is putting the finishing touches on her dream home of stone. Her son was awarded WSU's Wallace scholarship for engineering.
The arc of her life story sounds worthy of a three-part feature by Roy Wenzl (my favorite journalist) in the Wichita Eagle. The grit she has shown is worthy of admiration--and emulation.
Well done, Tracy Tucker. You might not have been anyone's vote for "Most Likely to Succeed," but you did it anyway.

Windows of opportunity

"I need to be home when they get back or I'll miss my window."

Last summer, my cousin was explaining why she would need to leave our family gathering a bit early. Her husband and 13-year-old son would be returning from a week-long boy scout camp, and she wanted to be there when they arrived.

But what was the window she was referring to?

She explained. Her son, like most adolescent boys, doesn't relish giving her long detailed accounts of anything. However, she knew he would be most excited and willing to talk right when he got home. Wait a few hours and he would be immersed in his video games or out with friends and back in his normal life. Camp would already be a dim memory. That time right when he arrived home was her window of opportunity to connect with her son.

Thanks, Joan, for your explanation on windows. Harrison and Laurel are coming back from camp today. I want to meet them at the bus so I can hear all about it.

Locker room talk and REO

Before the concert Tuesday night, my husband's friend asked me where I was back in the day of REO Speedwagon, so I told him my favorite memory of the band's music.

I was in the middle school locker room, changing after 6th grade P.E. (I don't think any of us showered, and that's not the point of this blog. Sorry, guys). Someone had shared a piece of juicy gossip and I belted out, in my best REO "Take it on the Run" imitation, "I don't believe it, not for a minute!"

That got a big laugh.

Getting big laughs INTENTIONALLY in a 6th grade locker room: priceless.

Finding a clever way to steer conversation away from damaging gossip: also priceless.

And memorable, even 31 years later.

Writer's High

I've heard that sometimes runners will experience a brief euphoria called a "runner's high." I've run two marathons, three half marathons, dozens of 10Ks, and miles and miles of training runs, and I can't say for certain that I've ever come close to feelings of elation--except, of course, when I finished.

I have, however, experienced "writer's high."

When I've been working on an article or column and just the right word clicks into place, I get excited. When I come up with a clever twist of a phrase, I laugh, even though it's my own joke. When someone tells me they read my article, I'm pleased. When someone adds a clever comment that shows we really connected, I get a boost that can last for hours.

In college, I loved the day "The Tabor College View" hit the mailboxes. Students everywhere had the four-page newspaper in their hands and were reading the results of our late-night efforts. I took note of the ones who I could tell were on page 2, bottom right. They were reading my column! I floated through my classes.

One time a Christian band who performed on campus used one of my stories for a local angle to the point he was making. Ecstasy!

Blogs are wonderful because I can get comments in minutes. Throughout the day, I can check to see how many hits I've gotten. People are reading my stuff!

However, deadlines are wonderful, because they force you to actually sit down and get something written. Since my blog is simply for fun, I've gone further and further between posts.

I've run consistently for the past five years, and I've said many time that never would have happened if I hadn't had Kristen, my running partner. We've set up a schedule and adjusted it through the years. When my alarm goes off at 6 a.m., I get up, because I know she will soon be on her porch waiting for me (if it's a Monday or Tuesday), or she will show up on mine (Thursday). Neither one of us wants to be the one to text "I can't make it today."

However, I'm having to lay off for a while. On our first regular training run after the April 29 half-marathon, my hamstring tightened up, and it's been giving me trouble ever since.

So, right now while she is running, I am writing, exercising my fingers and brain instead of my heart and lungs. And searching for that elusive high.

Thanks a Lot!

Last night we officially ended the high school wrestling season with Wichita North High's wrestling banquet (in this instance "banquet" means "potluck" with burgers and hot dogs provided).

This also means my job as team meal coordinator is also finished. In fall, shortly after I'd signed on for the job, a friend who arranged pre-game meals for his school's football team said he never received any thanks. Sometimes players would ask him what was for dinner that day, but when it came to thanking him for providing it for them, hot and ready--nothing.

With that in mind, I wasn't expecting much. However, I am happy to report that my experience has been completely different than his.

For every meal we made, we had many--if not a majority--of the wrestlers say "thanks" as we filled their plates. Many made a point to thank us again as they left. When I served chicken gumbo for the first meal, one wrestler came back to exclaim, "Girl, you can COOK!" That gave me enough fuel to make it several more weeks. The wrestlers raved about Julie's homemade chicken and noodles served over mashed potatoes, so we made it for them again a few weeks later. They rewarded us with more praise.

I know Coach Johnston often reminded the boys to thank us for the meal, but hey, having the coach support and appreciate our efforts is good too.

Our team didn't finish nearly as high at state as my friend's, but I would have to say that the thankfulness our team exhibits is equally deserving of a trophy, and ultimately more important as they walk through life.