An Imaginary Birthday Letter

                                               Photo Cred: Ricky Martin

Dear Randy,

If you were still here on earth, I would write you a birthday letter today. I would sign it from Dad and me and we'd give it to you, probably along with a card, at some point in the day. It would be one of our ways of celebrating you on your 19th birthday. We'd invite the family over for a meal (and you'd get to choose the menu since it's your birthday) so they could help celebrate you, too. 

Of course, I'm not writing you a birthday letter today, because you aren't here. You came far too soon to stay long. Perhaps it's silly to imagine what I'd write to you, but I find myself doing it anyway. I'd be sure to express my gratitude to God for the gift of you. I'd also write some memories of family times.

They'd include Kerra, the sister who, if you had stayed, would've written a song for you, composed the music for it, and played it for you on her ukelele.

She's also the one who would assist you and Dad in a project like re-shingling the garden shed roof. I'm pretty sure she'd have gotten you to join us in the Book Club she initiated for Dad and me and her this summer, too. She has such good ideas for stuff like that.

Speaking of books, your oldest brother Rolin would love giving you book ideas for your next listen on Audible. He'd enjoy talking all things Math and Science with you at family get-togethers. And if you hadn't been a guest on his Everyday Expertise podcast yet, you could figure on him begging you to be one. I don't know if at 19 you'd be thinking yet about how you'd raise your children someday, but I could recommend Rolin as a good example to follow in being a dad. He's off to a good start, anyway.

Joy, your SIL with the nursing skills and wisdom, would be able to answer any most of your medical questions, and if you'd have an injury you wanted to send her a picture of, and you'd give her a choice between the gory one or the plain one, my guess is she'd pick the gruesome one. In family conversations, I'm sure you'd enjoy her contribution of questions in search of details and meaning, as well as her wit and fun giggle. 

And wouldn't you love to make new discoveries with your nephew Seth? He's at such a wonderful age! 

The memories you're likely to have made with your bro Ricky and your SIL Jasmine would be sure to involve intelligence and creativity. Their free-spirited ways and spontaneity would add unique delight to any ordinary event. No doubt you would've been keeping up with reading Jasmine's wise and wonderful words on her blog, and checking Instagram every morning for Ricky's daily drawing and caption. 

I'm sure you'd be so grateful along with the rest of us that Rija (do other families also combine couples' names into one?) moved from Toronto to Waterloo this summer. It does seem easier to get together with them this way. There'd be a ton of things that you as his younger brother might do with Ricky if you'd hang out with him for an afternoon - tennis, chess, skating, making music, filming, biking, designing, swimming, discussing, laughing, sketching... 

 

Add running to the list, too. If you'd have been here, you probably would've joined both of your brothers in the custom-designed marathon they ran together on area roads a few weeks ago. 

I would've also written about the newlyweds, your sister Kayleen and her husband Carlin, your only bro-in-law. The memories involving being with them in person over the past year would be sadly few, due to Covid. You would've loved the times we did spend together with them, though, being a recipient of their fine hospitality at their Carleen House in PA, and having them sit around our table (sticky rice and mango dessert is better shared, just saying) when they came to visit us the weekend just before Covid started drastically shutting things down. 

                           Photo Cred: Ken Martin

                                            Photo Cred: Kayleen Martin

One neat thing about them is that they don't let separations hinder them from joining in the fun of family traditions. So while the rest of us had our annual Mom-and-Dad's-wedding-meal for your parents' anniversary last week, Kayl and Carlin (and your sis Kerra who is currently attending FB just across the field from their house) celebrated along with us, albeit from afar, by having the same menu the same evening. They're just sweet like that.

I wonder how many memories you'd have made with your dad in the orchard over the past growing season. He'd have loved talking with you about the ups and downs of fruit farming and he would've happily exclaimed about the phenomenal crop this year. Maybe you'd have done some four-wheeling in the Vienna orchards with him as he made his rounds coaching the worker teams.

I wonder if you and I would've shared a love of photography. I wonder if we would have had deep talks sometimes. If you were to ask how I'm doing today, I would say I still have moments of deep grief over your going and I wonder why you had to leave us so soon. I've been learning that your Creator is a God who grows things, and He can use even the death of dreams to grow His character in me. These yearnings for you in my mother heart are a reflection, I believe, of His love for His children. I don't always see it, but my longings are actually leanings toward Him.

Yes, I said I wasn't going to write a letter to you, but here I am, being all silly again, besides emotional. I wonder if you would be the kind of 19-year-old who wouldn't be afraid to give your imagining and teary mom a hug.

Love you, Randy.

Mom

 

Last Post's Childhood Memories

Last year, my blog posts all had two features in common. At the end of each post, I included a section called "This Post's Quotable" and one named "This Post's Childhood Memory." My most recent blog post, the only one I have done so far this year, did not include those features. That was on purpose - I don't plan to add them to the posts I do in 2020. They were fun and good in serving their purpose while they were here, but now they are there, and there they will remain - lounging or romping about, as the case may be, in back issues.

In farewell to those features, this post will be a small collection of childhood memories, some from me and a few from some of my sibs, as well as from an author I discovered recently.

~ Me: I remember wearing plastic bread bags on my stockinged (or tightsed, or snowpantsed) feet inside my winter boots, to help keep my feet dry while I played or worked outside in deep snow. I'd turn the bags inside-out so I wouldn't get bread crumbs on my socks. The bags helped provide a waterproof barrier against melting snow inside my boots, at least until the bags got holes in them...

~ Troy: I remember learning some reading skills before school at the urging of you and Anni, perhaps you more than her. My memory is of struggling with the short e sound and getting it confused with the short a sound.  I think you were patient. (Thanks for that strong vote of confidence, there, Bro.)

~ Faye: During the time leading up to one of my childhood birthdays, I told Mom that I wasn’t going to sit on her lap anymore whenever I turned whatever age it was (seven I believe), thinking I was too old/big.  When the birthday arrived, I received a book as a present.  Mom told me she’d read this book to me if I sat on her lap.  I didn’t remember my earlier declaration and agreed to the deal.  Mom did remember however, and enjoyed the fun of luring me onto her lap in spite of me trying to grow up. And now I enjoy the memory of the love and humor. 

~ Me: Many times, in reading Full Moon, Half a Heart (one of the children's books I mentioned in my previous blog post), I was transported right back to my childhood days because of the author's superb description of life in Wisconsin. One of those times was when the main character in the book was introduced to the dairy barn. When I read that part, I recalled with startling clarity all the sights, sounds, and smells of "going to the barn" when I was at my school friends Monica and Michele's place or staying with my cousins on the Kauffman side. I'm going to steal author Vila Gingerich's words here, because I can't think of a better way to describe my childhood memories of that scene:
"We stood in a sort of entry, the walls made of whitewashed concrete...a room bedecked with cobwebs and dust. In it stood a wheelbarrow, loaded with what looked like dark green sawdust...more sounds came from ahead, where a doorway wide enough to drive a small car through led into the main part of the barn. A rhythmic sucking sound echoed through the building. Scooping and banging rang out now and then. Beneath it all ran strangely muffled noises, as though a giant animal shuffled its feet and munched on lettuce...rows of cows filled the barn. Shiny pipes ran above their heads, and milking machines chuff-chuffed a rhythm...cows munched hay, their jaws moving steadily, feet shifting and stomping away flies..."

~ Annette (aka Anni): Mom occasionally purchased Chef Boy-ar-dee pizza kits, likely when they were sale items at Co-op or Simmon’s grocery store. It was great fun to help her make pizza out of a box for supper. We dumped the bag of dough mix into a stainless steel mixing bowl, added water, and stirred till the wad of pizza dough chased the fork in circles. After the dough was patted and coaxed out to the corners of a cookie sheet, we opened the small green tin can of tomato sauce with a manual can-opener—carefully!—and spread an ultra-thin layer of sauce on the dough. Next we snipped open the tiny packet of herbs, smelling predominantly of oregano, to sprinkle over the sauce. Mom had a skillet of fried hamburger waiting on the stove, perfect for snitching a mouthful of salty oniony goodness before scattering the meat chunks over the pizza. The last little packet contained parmesan cheese to sparsely coat the meat layer, and finally the pizza was ready to slide into the oven to bake just in time for a special supper.

~ Me: This past weekend, we visited Kayleen and Carlin in their home in Guys Mills, PA. One of the many fun things we did with them was to hike through a snowy forest in the Erie Wildlife Refuge. When I saw a "crop" of tiny little evergreens poking through the melty snow ground cover, I was immediately taken back to the woods at the Peninsula Rd White House where we lived for much of my growing up years. The woods had many fascinating features, such as the Princess Pines that popped up their petite selves in pretty patches on the forest floor.  

Perhaps reading these memories has stirred up some childhood memories of your own. Feel free to add them to this collection by including them in the comments section.