This family of ours loves a celebration, and it doesn’t take much to set us into a frenzy of joy! So the absolutely phenomenal wedding of my grandson, after he and his bride postponed their nuptials for a year due to the pandemic, gave us such a chance once more.

It was a spectacular occasion and we were treated like royalty in our participation, and I will savor the occasion for years. But, there was a side event that stole my heart’s attention that had little to do with the wedding venue. That was a tour of the National Aquarium with two little great-grandchildren, ages one and a half and three and a half.

The three year old took a more knowledgeable approach, having been schooled by his parents as to what he would see or touch. None the less enthralled, but very much in conversation with his parents about the displays, he looked up at his dad once, and said “ I love you Dad”. I assume in appreciation for being taken to the aquarium.

But the 1 and a half year old little girl blew us all away with her first glimpse of the first window of fish..her joy was palpable, as she ran to the window, mouth and eyes expressing the awe she felt. It didn’t stop with the first window. Each display brought a similar reaction that made us grownups a bit more appreciative of our own adventure.

The whole point of this blog by this eighty-three year old great-grandmother is this. Sometimes at this age, the wonder of the world becomes faded in the diminished experiences of life itself. I caught that wonder again this past weekend through the eyes of children. May it always be so.

When your weekend guests bring you apples and you already have apples, what do you do? You make apple butter. Simmering apples in my slow cooker, the aroma sends my mind spinning back to the utensil for making apple butter was a copper lined kettle over a wood fire.

The farm of my childhood had the remnant of a ancient apple orchard that still had quite a few trees still bearing a variety of apples whose names elude me, but whose bounty was gathered thankfully every fall by my family. Some went immediately to a cider press to fill a wooden stave barrel where the apple juice would eventually turn to vinegar, after going through a tasty period of sweet cider.

Excess apples were stored in a bin in a root cellar and remained crisp for most of the winter months. They were our after dinner snack, along with popcorn, as we sat around the radio anxiously listening for news from World War II. Gabriel Heatter’s greeting of “There’s Good News Tonight” became his catch phrase and we rejoiced as our brother Joe was in the Pacific theater. Abbott and Costello, Amos and Andy were welcome amusement when the world had little to laugh about.

So, this effort of mine seems a bit mundane in comparison to those days, but the aroma is undeniably the same, and once it is spread across my toast, the essence of that long ago family time will warm my heart once more.

I have a distinct blessing this morning of taking care of my 3 year old great-grandson for a few hours. Once again there are toys scattered over my floor, snack and milk at self-service, and the joy of hearing him call me “Grandma.”

But the real parental revisiting came from our visit to our development’s park. On the walk down there, we were hailed by construction trucks who took the time to reward a little boy who waved at them with a loud blast of their horn which sent him doubled over with laughter.

Now, the park jungle gym is not age appropriate for a little one….I had to lift him up the first step to the slide apparatus. Tentatively he approached the first slide, backing away when he looked down. I said, “I will help you” and took his arm as we inched down the slide. Safely down, he ran around to climb up again. This time when I reached out to help him, he pushed my hand away and went down by himself. Much applause from said Grandma.

But this is parenting at its heart. Always ready for a hand out or up, but the joy of parenting is when they push it away!!!!

Oscar Wilde once said, “I think God, in creating man, somewhat over estimated his ability!” Boy, there are many days I agree. As we fumble and stumble and blame each other for every faux pax in our dealings with others, Wilde might be right.

But the fallacy of such thinking is that God never intended we do this alone. That is the real answer. We are just too stubborn, prideful or ignorant to rely on the one true help.

General Omar Bradley once said, “Ours is a world of nuclear giants and ethical infants. We know more about war than we do about peace, more about killing than about living. We have grasped the mystery of the atom and rejected the Sermon on the Mount.”

I heard a comedian say once……what he thought was a funny line……”What if someone declared war and nobody showed up??”

What Indeed!!!!

Privilege, a word bandied around in discussions of injustices when we learn that its dictionary definition is, “ having special rights, advantages, and immunities.” And, as much as I want to disclaim such relating to my own life, I admit complicity.

I can only plead that it was cultural norms when I grew up, or that I had no feeling of superiority, but ignorance is more correct, I suspect. We Christians call that privilege, Grace….unearned, unmerited, and many times unappreciated! So it behooves me to convey that privilege to all I encounter. Thanks be to God.

In light of the voting restrictions happening across the country today, I recall my Dad taking me to register to vote in 1956. He instructed me that not only would there be a written test, but our particular registrar had oral questions I would be asked. I understand that was left to the individual polling rules. All of which was to keep African Americans from voting.

Don’t take my word for this. Look up the voting rules for the 50’s and 60’s. Again, as soon as there is a movement for more freedoms by minorities, there is a movement to thwart it…such as Jim Crow laws, segregation, etc.

I will probably lose a great many of my followers, but in my 83 years of life, I just want us to recognize our history..our whole history. The greatness of this country is not diminished by recognizing our warts as well as our beauty. Our treatment of Native Americans, Japanese Americans, African Americans, and minorities in general, is not something to hide and not talk about, but to be brought to light and vow that it will never happen again.

That is the America I want my grandchildren to inherit. My Country ‘Tis of Thee, Sweet Land Of Liberty.

Our bed-time ritual was a joint venture with Bill and I, consisting of book reading and getting one of them to say that her favorite book was.”Old Black Bitch” instead of Witch. Always closing bedroom doors with at least two identical voices shouting, “Daddy, don’t shut the door too MANY!” Which would send him into peals of laughter, and he left the doors ajar.

Some little girls would get a ride into town for supplies at Stickleys or the Farm Bureau, and Bill would return them to me saying, “She talked non stop all the way in and back!” There were water battles in the milking parlor, there was halter training their heifers for the fair, there were ballgames, and vacation trips all over the country with one little girl riding behind her Daddy’s back in the motor home talking of “cuts and fills” on the roadway. There were musicals and college move ins and move outs, and weddings and grandchildren, and He was there.

Little girls sat in the back yard with a ball and glove waiting for him to come in from the barn to throw a few balls with them. I never saw him refuse even though he had spent about 15 hours working. If perhaps they had a small snafu in life, the first words out of their mouths was” Don’t tell Daddy.” Not because they feared him, but they never wanted to disappoint him. Unconditional love was his way of dealing with the herd of females in his life.

There are a thousand and one stories I could tell. But what all this means in my daughter’s lives, is that He was always there. In the moments of joy and a moment or two of deep sorrow, He was there. So Father’s Day is just one more day to remember. I will close with his reply to those people who kidded him about having all girls. Bill’s reply was, “If God thought we needed another man around our house, He would have sent one!” Amen, Bill, Amen.

You may recall the Lily Tomlin movie called The Incredible Shrinking Woman in which a housewife poisoned by her household cleaning chemicals, shrank to minute proportion. So I am warning my children, your Mother is shrinking!

Weight and height wise, I am slowly disappearing! I expected the weight loss, but what the heck is going on with my height ? With blood sugars a little high, I have been watching my sugar intake, and that resulting in some weight loss.

One of the phenomena of aging is that each day brings a surprise to our physical makeup, and leaves us shaking our heads over new aches, a new wrinkle, a new age spot, a new allergy, all of which we knew might happen one day, but not today

Pardon the personal grousing, but as I pulled up my pants this morning to keep from walking on the hems, and flipped over the waist band until time I could hem them up, I thought to myself, “shrinking, Ellen, shrinking, but still incredible, thanks be to God.”

Most musicians know the term “ear worm”. That’s when a musical tune or phrase gets stuck in your head and plays over and over in your ear!!

Last night we had choir practice, and trying to sleep, tunes we practiced played over and over in my head. One was the spiritual, “ Ain’t Judgin No Man For The Life He Leads”. The other was the song, For Everyone Born, by Shirley Murray. For a real message of inclusion, you might want to look it up. The phrase, repeating with each stanza is A place At The Table.” My nighttime revelry sent my mind swirling to the thought and the idea of what our world would be like if “everyone created”had a place at our table. A seat at your political table, your church table, and most of all a place at your personal, cherished, family table.

Thank you ear worm. This morning, setting my table where everyone born is welcome!,