Maxine Overdrive: Sequel

Today I think I will continue some of the stories of Maxine's adventures in driving. Maxine Overdrive  It seems a lot of my Facebook friends, especially those who knew her, have enjoyed Maxine stories, so I will do a few more.

Maxine and car...but looks like she was not the driver.

By the time we moved to Ohio when I was thirteen...Maxine had given up driving (after getting the car stuck on the big rock).   She did not drive for many years.  After my father's first heart attack he  encouraged mother to get a learner's permit.  He knew she needed to be able to drive if something happened to him.  She had many learner's permits.  Each time the real driver's test came, Maxine would freeze and refuse to do it.  She took a driver's lesson course and prided herself that her reflexes were better than the teenagers in her class.  She always got 100% on the written tests, but when it came to getting in the car for the driving part...she just couldn't do it.

 Since I had a small VW Dasher that was the right size for her to maneuver the city streets I would often take her on her practice drives.  It made me a bit nervous that she liked to drive the freeways.... "Because there were not stop lights . Stop lights are too confusing. Especially when they have arrows," she would say.

 Once, driving down Kenwood Blvd in Toledo...going a little too fast for my comfort level...she turned to me and said, "Did you see that bird on that sidewalk just sitting there?  It had a huge yellow beak and its tail looked way too long for its body, and I have never seen such colors of red, black and white in that size of a bird..."

"Watch the road, watch the road," was all I could squeak out as my grip on the handhold was stopping my circulation and my right foot searched for the nonexistent  brake.  How could she see all those details on a bird?  She wasn't the passenger...she was the driver!!!

My father was known for his patience.  He was determined that Maxine would get her driver's license.  He had made poles for parallel parking practice...just like the kind they would use for her test.  We decided to practice in the parking lot of a school one Sunday.  He would drive in his car carrying the poles and Maxine and I would follow in the Dasher...she would drive...and then use my car for parking practice.  We were following my dad...Maxine was doing great...not too close...I was feeling good.  Dad put on his turning signal to turn left and slowed down.  Maxine kept driving...did not slow down. 

"Slow down, he's turning...slow down...slow...STOP!"  (It is really difficult to calmly tell someone to stop in fear of getting her upset....I failed...my voice was....BOOM!!! )  We smacked into my dad's car pushing it into the parking lot as Maxine took the corner on what felt like two wheels.  She did an abrupt stop inches from his car.

He jumps out of his car, checks for damage. I'm out of the car before she puts it in park...shaking, but glad there was no big damage and we all survived.  What I could not believe was listening to my dad.

"Maxine, it's okay...it was my fault...I should have turned faster."   So, the lesson of when you ram into the back of the car in front of you it is your fault lesson was lost.

Once she got brave and tried the driving part of the test.  I knew when she stormed from the parking lot ahead of the officer that she had failed it.  "He knew all along I was not going to pass," she said. "When I hit the curb trying to parallel park I asked him if I could go around the block and try again....and he said to me, 'ma'm, it's not going to help, you failed it back at the first light.'"

There are many more incidents...but she finally got her license after my father died.  She was 67.  It took a few times...but with the help of family and friends she finally succeeded.

Maxine and Mort (I don't have a picture of her driving)

Maxine Overdrive

I think it is time for another Maxine story.  I know people wonder why I call my mother, Maxine, but when I am telling one of her stories...or one about her...she becomes Maxine to me...and not the Hallmark card Maxine with the rollers in hair, smoking a cigarette while holding a glass of wine.  No way!  My Maxine was a "never let a drop of liquor pass my lips" type of woman...."God put us on this Earth to look nice for others" (yes, she said that...usually when I was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.)...so she would NEVER leave the house without her makeup applied correctly and she was always wearing a matching outfit.

Maxine and Mort

Maxine did not like to drive.  When we were young...I was five and Linda was eight, my father went to school in Philadelphia for a few weeks and would only be home on the weekends.  He told mother that she really needed to drive since we lived out in the country and she may not be able to depend on the few neighbors all of the time.  He bought this big old car...I don't know what kind...but it had the split front windshield and an electric choke...and the back seat (where I spent most of the time on the floor praying we would make it to our destination) was huge.

This is not the car...but this is what it looked like.

There is not enough time and space to write all of her driving misadventures so I will just tell of three.

• Picking up her friend on her way to get her license...(yes, she had to drive one country road to the house and thought that would be okay...since she was getting her license that day)...gets to the house, drives down the drive way...stops and sings out of the window, "I have arrived!"... and Alberta steps out of her house, looks at the garage door and says, "I see you have!"...the front of the car has gone through the garage...Maxine was totally unaware.
• Then there was picking up my sister and her friend  from a Brownie meeting.  Somehow, probably driving out of the driveway after dropping off Linda's friend...Mother could not get the car in forward.  No worry though!  Maxine was a problem solver. She just drove us all the way home in reverse...that's one of the times I was on the floor in the back.
• One more....we had a big rock at the end of the drive way....yes...she did...she drove right over it and got the car stuck. She jumped out of the car...stormed past my father...handed him the keys...and said she would never drive again.  It took him hours (with the help of a few neighbors with tractors and tools) to get that old car off the rock.  All the time some of the young neighborhood boys watching and asking, "Mr. Haworth...how did you get your car on that rock?"

 Soon after, the big old car was sold and Maxine did not drive again...until she was 67 after my dad died...but I will write about those adventures on another post.

Maxine had a life filled with laughter...she would always make an experience into a funny story...even if it was not funny at the time....like her adventure of chasing the purse thief, Stop Thief! , or the bumble bees, Attack of the Bumble Bees! , or the wild animal in the house, Wild Animal in the House .   If you have time and haven't read these, you might enjoy.

Chicken Casserole to Serve Thirty

Below is the recipe mother wrote for her friends and family.  She continued to have dinner parties (thus the 'serve thirty') after my father died.  You can skim the ingredients, but read her instructions.

This was the only picture I could find of Maxine

in the kitchen.  She was not the cook in our family.

My father and sister did most of the cooking.

30 slices of day-old bread, cubed
8 cups cubed chicken (I used the breasts)
2 small green peppers -- chopped fine
2 small onions             -- chopped fine
1 1/2 cub celery           -- chopped fine

6 eggs, well beaten
1 cup milk
chicken broth to make 6 cups
Mix eggs, milk and chicken broth together and put small amount in bottom of pan

Add 1/2 of cubed bread -- next chicken, vegetables and rest of bread
Pour remaining liquid over and let let stand overnight (refrigerate).
Bake 15 minutes at 325 degrees

Mix following and spread over top:
     2 cans cream of chicken soup (do not dilute)
     2 cans cream of celery soup    (do not dilute)
     3/4 cup mayonnaise or Miracle Whip
Over this add 2 cups grated mild cheddar cheese
Bake 1 hour, 15 minutes at 350 degrees

Due to an error, I added more chicken than the recipe called for but I feel it improved the taste.  I thought I was using a four cup measure and afterwards found that it was an eight cup.

Also, I found that I had omitted the cheese--didn't find it until 15 minutes before the casserole was to come from the oven.  I added it at that time and really think it was best to not have the cheese topping on the entire baking time, as it turns brown.  Mine stayed yellow with just a little browning.

I must have had several things on my mind while preparing this casserole as I tripped on the basement stairs and fell flat, holding the casserole aloft and with only two bread cubes bouncing out.  Needless to say, I have several bruises and a twisted ankle to prove I had the fall.

Also, I had  not measured the oven to see if the larger throw-away aluminum pan I was using would fit in it----it didn't.  So I had to transfer, spoon by spoon into a narrower pan.

My paragraph concerning my fall is rather disconnected--I was taking the casserole to the basement refrigerator for overnight.

Guess it was all worth it as everyone liked the finished product.
                                                                      Maxine Haworth

This is typical of how my mother's cooking went.  I wish I had other recipes that she wrote...as many of them are similar to the one above...with her unique changes to recipes.



What's Cookin', Maxine?...Beets Me...

I know what it feels like to walk into a brutal murder scene....the faint feeling, gasp of breath and hand covering my face. I had returned from a day at work at school, walked into the kitchen and saw a red hand print dripping down the refrigerator. The same hand prints were on the cabinets, stove and sink. Red drops pooled on the floor.

 
"I made beets today," my mother sang out to me from her chair in the living room. "Oh...that's nice," I said, wiping clean all beet evidence...after catching my breath. I don't want to make light of anyone who has experienced a real crime scene...but for a few short seconds...I think I could relate to that feeling. My mother lived with me the last twelve years of her life. Her health was remarkable...no medication...just something for her indigestion and a vitamin for her macular degeneration. Some of you may know, from earlier posts, that she was an excellent seamstress. She was NOT a good cook.

 People at school did look forward for her banana bread...until one loaf was full of paper clips. Maxine, (my mom) had dropped a box of paper clips on the counter...I guess...I did not have the heart to tell her about the ruined bread...and I did find stray clips on the floor and counter. It is difficult to write about her cooking without making this way too long. 

 There was the time she made jelly for a brunch my parents were having for guests. My father did 99% of the cooking (he said Maxine was better at entertaining), but she wanted to contribute something...so she made jelly. She proudly set a few small bowls with the proper silver spoon in each bowl. By the time brunch was served, the jelly had solidified becoming one with the bowl and spoon. Picking up the spoon would result in the whole bowl being lifted from the table. One more example and I will end...for now.... I think this picture of the fudge she made needs no words of description.

 She later decided that this would make great topping for her daily hot fudge sundaes.  

Wild Animal in the House!!!

Wild Animal in the House!


It sounded like a wild cat!

My mother did not call me often while I was at school. (I was a guidance counselor in a middle school.) So, when I got a call from her and heard her frightened voice, my ears perked to attention.

“Jackie, there is something in the house,” her quivering voice whispered through the phone. “I don’t know what it is, but it is growling and hissing.”

“Are you sure it is not one of the cats?” I asked. I guess that was a silly question, but it filled in some time for me to figure out how to handle this call. I did not want her to panic any more, but I was concerned. I was twenty-five minutes away and could not be of much help.

“No, the cats are upstairs with me. Oh there is goes again!” I could even hear it…a low growl that sounded like a trapped, scared animal.

Before I write more, I need to describe the condo. It had an open design with open stairs going to the top floor. The top floor had two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Of course, there were doors to these rooms, but there was no door at the stairs. The middle level had the living room, dining room, kitchen, breakfast nook and half bath. The open stairs divided the living room and dining room. There was an enclosed patio outside of the breakfast nook and a deck overlooking a ravine outside the living room. The open stairs to the lower level also had no door and went directly to the family room where mother had her sewing area on one side and I had my computer on the other.

This room had a patio where we could walk out the sliding glass doors and enjoy the beauty of the ravine. There was also a stand-alone fireplace…one of those cone looking ones standing on a tiled area. That whole side of the room was a series of huge windows where we could each sit at our sewing machine or computer and view the trees and wild life. There was another bedroom and bathroom on this level and in the back was the laundry room and storage area. The condo was perfect for us…lots of space…lots of windows…we could look out and feel we were living in a forest.

Mother spent many hours in the family room creating new outfits with her Bernina sewing machine. She even got comfortable using the computer for email and sending instant messages to my sister and Maggie and Nathan.

“Oh no!…Aztec is going downstairs!!” These words got my brain back in action. Aztec was our male cat and I was sure he was headed down for a fight.

“Mother, call Kevin!” Kevin lived about ten minutes away, but he was always available when we needed a helping hand. That was still ten minutes where she was in danger.

“Jackie, I already called the Condo Association and they told me to call the Pest and Animal Control. I talked to a nice lady but had to hang up because the growling started again.”

“Mother, call Sally. She lives next door and she can come right over. Maybe you should go to her place until Kevin gets there.”

Just then there was a loud screeching that sent shivers up my spine. “Call, Sally and Kevin now and then call me right back.” I hung up the phone and wondered if I should drive home or wait. One of the science teachers, Andy, happened to come to my office and I told him about the wild animal. He lived out in the country and knew a lot about wildlife so I asked him if he had any ideas of what it could be.

“We see raccoons, squirrels, deer, feral cats, groundhogs, and foxes that come up from the ravine…but we have never had any attempt to get into the house. Maybe Mother did not close the door completely. She often sweeps the patio in the morning…but still, why would a wild animal come inside!”

The phone rang again. It was Mother.

“Sally is on her way and so is Kevin. It’s kind of quiet now.” Of course, the minute she said that, another hissing and growling sound came from the basement. I had Andy listen. His face looked as puzzled as I felt.

“Here comes Aztec running up the stairs with his tail all puffed up!” I felt so sorry for Mother. Her voice was shaking…so unlike her. “Sally’s here! She has a broom! I’m going to hang up now and call you back later.

So there we were, Andy and me, looking at each other wondering what to do.

“Jackie, it could be an opossum. I just haven’t heard a raccoon sound like that. Do you want me to get a net and go over there? I could find someone to cover my class.”

“Thanks, Andy. Kevin is going to be there too…so let’s wait. I’m sure Sally will get mother out of the house. I’m just concerned about the cats…”

Andy went back to his classroom and I stayed in my office staring at the phone. I was getting ready to leave for home when the phone rang. It was Mother.

“It’s okay, Jackie,” she said light heartedly. In fact she was chuckling making it difficult to understand what she was saying. Finally, in her own words:

“When Sally got here the growling from the family room was loud and scared her too. She decided to wait until Kevin got there so that they could work as a team. Kevin got here and was carrying a shovel. He looked so nice in his suit and tie. We waited for the animal to growl again, but this time it screeched. I could tell that Kevin was surprised and that he had probably thought I was exaggerating…but now he knew. He said he would head down the stairs first and Sally could follow if she wanted to. He would try to get to the door and open it so that the animal could run out.

  “HISS GRRROWL” Oh the poor trapped animal…I just wanted it out of the house. Anyway, Kevin slowly descended the stairs…one step and then rest…one more step…rest again…trying to look into the family room without getting attacked…all the time holding the shovel for protection. Sally was close behind him with broom in hand. It was like a choreographed scene…they moved together in time…one-step rest…one-step rest. I could not just stand and watch them so I joined….but carried nothing for protection. I was gripping the handrail tightly as I watched Kevin get to the bottom step and move toward the sounds.

  It must be in the fireplace. Remember, Geoff opened it last time he was here and there was a dead bird? But no…the fireplace was empty of wild animals. “SCREECH!!!!” I feared the animal was about to attack Kevin, but instead he started to laugh.

 ‘Come here, Maxine,’ he said to me. I went down and saw the cutest little Siamese cat on the computer monitor jumping around and chasing a mouse. It was the screen saver that Jackie had gotten the night before. “GROWL” again came…but this time it was from the speakers. But why would this screen saver sound like a wild animal!

  Kevin solved that. “Maxine, you have the volume at full blast. When I turn it down, it sounds like a normal cat.” I explained to him that I always turn up the volume when I am not in the room so that I can hear if someone sends me an instant message. We all just sat down and laughed as we snacked on some banana bread and coffee. It was at that time that the Animal Control people called me to tell me that they were sending a group to capture the animal. They were quite concerned because I had hung up and when they tried to call back, the phone was always busy. The woman sounded quite relieved when I answered but I have to admit, I felt a little foolish telling her to call back the cavalry…that the wild animal was just the computer.”

So, that is the story of the wild animal. Oh how I wish my Uncle Frank were still alive so that he could draw a comic of Kevin, Sally and Mother creeping down the stairs…one holding a shovel, another holding a broom and Mother bringing up the rear with a look of fright on her face. He would have the computer monitor out of their sight with a growling sound coming from it. I can at least have the picture in my mind even though I don’t have the talent to draw it.

Dodging the Bullet

Dodging the Bullet

My mother, Maxine, was blessed with good health for most of her life, so I was surprised when I received a call from her neighbor informing me that Maxine was rushed to the hospital and was in serious condition. I packed quickly and drove the two and a half hour drive from Columbus to Toledo in record time. My sister, Linda, did the same, but her drive from Hammond was closer to four hours. This was in the 'olden times' when we had no cell phones, so the questions and concerns racing through my mind were many. I can’t even remember who made it to the hospital first…Linda or me.

We met Maxine’s neighbor, Jill, who told us what she knew.  Maxine had not been feeling well for a couple of days. What Jill did not now was “Maxine Language” which is this. Maxine says she is not feeling well….translation is: “I don’t fell well, which means that I must be really sick because I never tell anyone if I feel ill because I do not want to go to a doctor. In fact, I have not been to a doctor since my final check up after the birth of my second daughter because doctors are in business to find something wrong with you, and in order for them to stay in business they will do their best to find something wrong.” I had heard that statement many times from Maxine, and up until that day it had worked well for her. But at that time she was getting prepped for emergency surgery.

Maxine had gone to a potluck at church and left early because she “did not feel well.” The next day a number of her friends called to see how she was feeling, and she assured them that she was just a little “under the weather.” She had talked with me via phone and told me that someone had brought some ginger ale and that tasted good and she would let me know if she began to feel worse. What she had not told any of us was that she was unable to eat anything, unable to urinate and had to have been in extreme pain.


This is one of my favorite pictures of Mother.
She was in her early twenties.

Fortunately, Jill had a key to the house.  She found Mother on the couch looking very ill. She gave Maxine the choice of letting her drive her to the hospital, or calling the emergency squad. Maxine chose going to the hospital with Jill…but only after she took a bath and fixed her hair. (Those of you who know Maxine, know that she never left the house unless her hair was perfect and her clothing coordinated with purse matching shoes.) Jill finally was able to get Mother to the hospital where she was rushed through emergency. Jill had called Linda and me while waiting for mother to finish her bath, so both of us were able to make it to the hospital before she went to surgery.

Linda and I met with the surgeon as he as going in to talk to Mother before surgery. He let us join him as he asked Mother a few questions.

“Maxine, you have pancreatitis. Your gall bladder has burst and we need to remove it. Can you tell me your age?”

Mother, “75 years old.”

Surgeon, “Do you drink alcohol?”

Mother, (with a look of disdain) “I’ve never let a drop of liquor pass my lips.”

Surgeon, “Do you smoke?”

Mother, (another look of disdain) “No!…and let me answer your next question without you asking. I have only had one sexual partner in my whole life.”

Linda and I exchanged glances as the surgeon was taken a bit by surprise. But he was not at all prepared for her next comment.

Maxine. “Doctor, what is causing my stomach to puff out like it is? I have never had a puffed out stomach and don’t intend to ever have one.”

He assured her that the puffiness was caused by swelling that would go away after surgery... only to have her reply.

Maxine, “Do you think that you could do a tummy tuck while you are in there?”

Linda and I exchanged glances again…rolling our eyes...biting our lips, but neither of us was surprised at this. The doctor assured Mother that the swelling would go down and that this was an emergency surgery and they would be unable to do the tummy tuck. They rolled her out the room after we gave kisses and hugs and the doctor paused to speak to us.

Top picture is my parents and bottom is Maxine.

“Your mother is very sick. Her kidneys have failed and she may be on dialysis the rest of her life. When I read her vitals sent from the emergency room I expected to see a dead person. I could not believe that someone with such vitals would live, but when I walked through the door, she was sitting up in bed fixing her hair, smiling and told me she was doing okay.”

Of course, Linda and I were not surprised at this behavior and assured him that “that’s Maxine.”

Linda and I had lots to think about while Mother was in surgery. Linda was upset that Mother had not told anyone how sick she really was. I was trying to convince her that maybe Mother just did not realize how bad it was. Whatever... we both knew we needed to make arrangements to be at home to care for Mother when she returned home. We tried to be positive because, at that time, we were not even sure she would live through surgery.

Finally, the surgeon walked up to us and told us that Maxine had gone through surgery well. He had a jar of her gallstones to show us. To my surprise the jar contained many little brown balls that looked like rabbit droppings. I was expecting to see marble sized gross ill shaped stones. It turns out that Maxine had pigment gallstones, which only about 15% of people get who have gallbladder problems. My father had had cholesterol gallstones…the more common type…the ugly kind. Of course, if Maxine was going to have gallbladder problems…she had to have the tiny “cute” type stones.

Her surgery went well. They were able to do the simple laparoscopic surgery where the gallbladder and stones were removed from tiny incisions. She was still very sick and her kidneys were still weak, but they were beginning to work and the outlook was good.

I forget how many days she was in intensive care. Every day Linda and I talked with the nurses and doctors. They all expressed disbelief at Maxine’s recovery. Her kidneys were back to normal and soon she was released to go home. On our last visit the doctors met with us to explain her home care. One of the last comments the surgeon made was, “You know, your mother dodged the bullet this time. We did not think she had a chance to pull through. We have a new name for her: Super Woman.”

As we left the hospital, Linda was muttering….”Oh no, now we have to convince Super Woman that she needs to get regular physical checkups. I fear what they have created giving her that name, Super Woman.”

Happy Thanksgiving

When someone smiles and tells me to have a Happy Thanksgiving I am reminded of our family Thanksgiving dinners when I was a young child. I would be sitting at the table, lower lip quivering, as my mother dished small portions of the traditional food onto my plate, assuring me that I would ‘like’ it. I knew better than to be vocal about my dislike of the food since we always had guests for Thanksgiving Dinner. How I wished for a dog that would sit under the table eating food I would slip its way. No such luck. It seemed everyone would be gushing over how delicious everything was as I tried to choke down each bite. What made it worse was that the dessert was even worst! At least I would not be forced to eat that.
Now, I am the adult and I have been more adventurous in my eating Thanksgiving food. It helps that we have a ham as well as turkey. I try to sit close to my nephew, Nathan, because he must have the same genetic code in food as his aunt. They call us picky eaters, but I say we must have more sensitive taste buds.
This brings me to the story of a Thanksgiving a few years ago that was at my place. Maxine, my mother, lived with me and we had my sister’s family for the holiday. (Linda and her husband Geoff, my nephew, Nathan and his wife Leeanne and their bulldog, Spike, my niece, Maggie and her puggle, Poppy, my niece Becky and her children, Audrey age four and Cooper who was a baby) We also had Geoff’s Aunt Janet come for dinner. She lived close to us (Columbus, OH) and helped house the rest of the family that had to travel from Hammond, IN. They arrived Wednesday and would leave Saturday.

My father always prepared our Thanksgiving feasts and after his death people might assume that Maxine would take over. But we knew that would be a disaster. My father would always send mother out of the kitchen to entertain the guests. The few times she had ‘helped’ with dinner resulted in something getting burned. Linda is now the cook of our family. She followed in my grandmother’s footsteps in that she loves to cook and enjoys having people over for a good meal. I am a survival cook…willing to volunteer my “talents” but not much experience with cooking a feast.
So, here we were, Maxine and I, standing in the kitchen Thanksgiving morning, looking at the turkey, arguing over who would be the one to stick a hand into that bird to pull out the package of gizzard, heart, liver and whatever else is inside. (We learned that from accidently cooking it in the turkey the year before.) I did not want to touch the turkey. The slick cold skin gave me chills. Linda was not surprised when she came into the kitchen to find Mother and me wrestling with the slippery turkey.  It’s difficult to wash something if you can’t touch it. We were saved from this ordeal when Linda moved us aside, took that turkey in her hands and had it ready to roast by the time I had the ingredients out for the rest of the meal.
It was also nice that my kitchen was small and two people trying to prepare dinner made it too crowded to work efficiently….so Linda did the majority of the work with me setting the table and being referee when Spike, Poppy and my two cats had territorial wars. Actually, that is an exaggeration, the dogs were good most of the time, and the cats stayed hidden in my bedroom.
Dinner was uneventful. The only snafu was when mother tried to superglue a broken cup and managed to superglue a fork to her fingers. Becky took charge and had the fingers free from the fork by the time dinner was served. The rest of the day went smoothly.
Leeanne and Becky were off to the mall Friday morning. Maggie and I decided to take Audrey to see Santa later that day. I like to shop about as much as I like preparing a turkey, but I thought visiting Santa would not be too bad. I think Audrey was five…maybe she was four…whatever the age, she was excited, and that put me in a good mood. We drove to the mall and found a parking space not far from the door. Things were looking good. Once through the mall doors I felt the crush of the crowds and wondered if I had made a mistake. Fortunately I knew where Santa was, so we walked directly there only to find a sign, “Santa is feeding his reindeer,” hanging by the gate into Santa’s North Pole. My plans to have this be a quick trip to see Santa were dashed. The line of excited children waiting to see Santa was long. I looked around to see if there was something else we could do until the reindeer were fed.

Audrey

Maggie saved the day when she pointed out a Build a Bear store. Great diversion! If you have ever been to a Build a Bear, you already know the routine. First, pick out a bear! That’s not as easy as it sounds. The wall was covered with all types of bears…pirate bears, peace bears, pink bears and polar bears. Plus, there are not only bears. There are cats, dogs, birds and numerous cartoon characters. Audrey chose a brown bear in a reasonable amount of time. Now to get it stuffed. She was given a little heart to put inside the bear, and then told to spin around three times while making a wish…and then the bear was put on a stuffing machine…and soon we had a puffy, cuddly brown bear that Audrey named Rosie.


Another Picture of Audrey (I don't have a picture of Rosie.)

I thought we were finished, but found we were guided to displays of clothing, shoes, headbands, purses, backpacks, etc. Of course, Rosie must have an outfit. There were way too many choices and this was too much like shopping. I was willing to buy the three outfits Audrey was looking at, just to escape from the store…but fortunately for me, Maggie convinced Audrey that Rosie would be happy with one outfit and probably did not need the sunglasses. She must have been looking at the price tags because by the time we left the store with a fully clothed Rosie and I was less $68. The look on Audrey’s face was worth it though, but I was glad to exit the store and head for Santa Land.
The line was not bad and Audrey was soon on Santa’s lap. Her picture was taken and then she ran to us with a beautiful smile and eyes shining as she hugged Rosie. I bought the picture, and we were soon on our way. I was feeling happy and satisfied. When we got home Audrey showed off Rosie and told Nana (Maxine) and Linda about Santa. I checked the bag for the picture, but it was not there. I searched the car and garage and realized that I must have lost the picture in the mall. Panic surged through my body at the thought of going back to the mall. By that time Becky and Leeanne were back from shopping. Becky told Audrey that they would get a picture in Hammond. Audrey was fine with that. What a great child…no crying, no whining…she dealt with it much better than I did.
Saturday morning found everyone packing and getting ready to return to Hammond. Out of the quiet there came a loud cry, “ROSIE!!! ROSIE!!! He’s killing Rosie!!!” I ran into the living room to find Spike holding Rosie in his massive jaws with a look of delight in his eyes.

I’m sure he thought someone had gotten him a new toy as he tossed Rosie in the air, grabbing her stomach and shaking his head. Bull dog drool was not only washing Rosie’s new outfit but was flying through the room. Spike was ecstatic. It became a game, and he was fast and clever as I tried to rescue Rosie. Nathan finally pried Rosie from Spikes jaws and we assessed the damage. Fortunately it was minimal, and only needed a few minutes in the dryer to bring back Rosie’s fluff.
The cars were packed and we were saying our good-byes. We walk out the door and find the patio gate is open….and Poppy is gone. I’m not sure how Poppy was found; I just know that I feared she had gone into the ravine to explore. Poppy returned and put into the car….and everyone drove off to Hammond. Mother and I went inside, sat down, sighed and smiled. We had survived another Thanksgiving!
That was a few years ago. Audrey is a teenager and is a member of a swim team. Cooper is a Boy Scout. Our family has grown. Nathan and Leeanne have two lovely children, Abby and Jackson.


Jackson and Abby at Maggie and Mike's wedding.

I have gotten married to Ray...and in August, Maggie and Mike were married.  We are going to celebrate Thanksgiving in Hammond this year. There will always be a bit of sadness knowing that Maxine and I will no longer spend Thanksgiving morning waiting for Linda to save us from the cold slippery turkey…but we still have the memories. We miss you, Maxine, Geoff and Rae, but are so thankful to have had you in our lives for as long as we all did.


Leeanne and Spike

Poppy