Sarah Stewings - July 15, 2007

I wrote this essay several years ago. My daughter is now married and living far away from our house.  I enjoyed reliving her first move…hope you readers do too.

Moving Out

 As a two-year-old just learning to talk and walk, my daughter would hold up her hand to stop me from following her saying, “tay dare” and then she would turn away and her round little feet would patter down the hallway toward mischief of some sort.  I would run after her and grab her from behind to halt her escape. As a teenager, my daughter’s favorite command was still “stay there.” She would then drive off in her car to discover her world.  I would periodically call her on her cell phone to find out where she had gone…when she would be home.  Again, to halt her escape.  But now that she is twenty-three years old, my daughter is old enough to move out of our home and into her own apartment. And, finally, as her mother, I must “stay there” and let her go. How do I feel?  I don’t know.  The experience is too new. I just kissed her good-bye at the back door and she drove away.  But wait! She forgot to take her stereo.  I can hear the music blaring behind her bedroom door.

I thought back to when my daughter bought a pair of “Lightning” roller blades.  The name of the skates predicted the speed of those skates as she raced down the street.  She has always been an athlete: a swimmer, runner, cyclist.  I have always sat on the sidelines and cheered her to victory.  And now, she is moving closer to “the city” to live and train.  But wait! She forgot to pack those roller blades abandoned in the corner of the garage.

My daughter doesn’t need the safety of our home any more. When she lived at home she protested our “prying questions” and “strict rules.”  But, she was smart enough to live with us and stay protected until able to protect herself.  Her friends and her life are now somewhere else. But wait! She forgot to take her clothes strewn all over her closet floor.

My daughter is strong enough to fly away from the soft, cozy nest of our home.  She has a college education, she has a job, she has dreams to prod her beyond where she is right now.  Most important, she has the energy of a young person just starting to live her adult life.  She can do anything, or so she believes, and so I believe it too.   But wait! She didn’t take her books and photographs.

I hope her childhood memories are fond ones.  My memories of her childhood make me smile. She accomplished her goals; made friends for a lifetime; took vacations to lakes and mountains, oceans and other cultures.  And, she grew up in a loving family that remembers to honor those we love.  We are the family that she can’t escape.  We will be the ones calling to find out how she is doing.  We will be the ones saying, “I love you” before we say goodbye. 

Sarah's Stewings - Memorial Day 2007

Memorial Day at the ranch. First of all, thank you to all soldiers today and in the past. My dad and Doug’s dad come to mind…thanks to them for serving and protecting in World War II and then coming home to raise families, work hard and in doing both, bettering the world in      their own ways. Thanks Dad.

Fun happenings from the weekend. Doug and I drove to the ranch along with Gracen, Griffin (two of the cutest grandchildren ever) and their daddy Todd (one of the cutest sons ever).  Some of the highlights (see photos)

·        Griffin riding in the “mule” and giggling louder and louder as his daddy drove faster and faster.

·        Gracen and Griffin landing huge bass. They reeled in their fish with the moves of deep sea fisher-people and stood by their catches with young child pride.

·        Griffin getting drippy faced with the watermelon juice running down his chin.

·        Gracen getting lessons in watermelon-seed spitting from her Mimi (that’s me).

·        During some quiet time, Gracen asking Griffin to share the hand held game he was playing with and when I told her that Griffin had just shared it with her a while ago and maybe she could let him play with his game now she said, “Actually it’s mine and I’m letting Griffin play with it, thank you very much.” I conceded her point. 

·        Griffin sticky-fingered with gooey roasted marshmallow, Gracen sticky-mouthed with a yummy some-more.

·        Gracen and Griffin racing with two-year-old Bryant, the little boy who lives on the ranch with his parents, who came for dinner and stayed to cook steaks exactly right. (Thanks Flint).

·        Gracen and Griffin looking through the new ranch house and picking out their bedrooms.

·        All of us exploring the ranch and spotting a bobcat, Great Horned Owl, wild turkey, deer, and lizards, toads, turtles galore.

My favorite part of the visit, an early morning hug when Gracen and Griffin got up in the morning, sleepy-eyed, messy-haired and running to hug me…the warmest, sweetest hugs of all.

Sarah's Stewings - Mother's Day 2007

It’s Mother’s Day…And so, to My Mom…Who didn’t think I was listening…I was.

When I was growing up my mom sang soprano in the church choir every Sunday and sang at home during the week every day.  As a little girl, I sat in the church pew and watched my mom march up the aisle with the choir, sit in the choir loft behind the minister, and at the appointed time, rise and walk to the front of the altar to sing.  I would listen to the power of the song through the beauty of her voice.

Flash ahead fifty years.  Doug and I attend the 8:15 a.m. Sunday service at our church which is held in the chapel. I like sitting in the chapel for church.  It has a grand piano with the top propped up, just like the one Mom practiced on during my childhood.

There is no choir at our chapel service.  But, I don’t need a choir to hear beautiful music.  I simply listen to the church hymns and imagine my mother singing at the front of the church, hitting all the high notes, lingering a second on the low ones. 

Sarah's Stewings - April 10, 2007                               

The Sweatergirls

This all started very innocently about ten years ago.  I was in a woman’s prayer group of five neighbors. I suggested to them that we were active, intelligent, caring women and should think of doing something to impact our community, putting into action what we were studying in the Bible.  No one was interested.  The Sweatergirls (so named not because we have deep cleavage to fill out a sweater, but because we can knit and crochet) was another group I belonged to and at our monthly meeting I made the same proposal to them and my dear friends immediately embraced the suggestion.

About The Sweatergirls: Linda, Emmy, Joanie, Carole, Karla and I have said goodbye to our forties (I’m being kind).  Our children who are adults don’t need our constant attention which means we no longer attend school swim meets, football games, band concerts or awards programs.  Where once we had the power of being presidents, leaders and organizers we are now forced to sit and watch others.  And so, we decided to make Afghans…not the terrorists as one of our members hurriedly explained to an outsider…but crocheted blankets.  Our plan had an ulterior motive.  Our closets overflowed with plastic bags full of yarn left over from years of crocheting Afghans and knitting sweaters for relatives, children, and friends. 

Linda (the artist) came up with the pattern. And every third Monday afternoon we meet. Emmy (our good manners guru) keeps us orderly, Joanie (Math tutor) “keeps the books” as soon as we have money instead of just yarn, Carole (newcomer) does what we tell her, Karla (Explorer owner) drives us during distribution, and I (writer) record our experiences.  When we started the project we all crocheted squares with the leftover yarn we owned and then Linda and Joanie crocheted the squares into the Afghans.  We had plans to make the Afghans until our leftover yarn “ran out” but that was several years and many hundreds of dollars ago. The Sweatergirls went from calm, organized members of a women’s group to yarn-buying, square-crocheting maniacs.

In the ten years since our plan began, we have given over five hundred hand-crocheted Afghans to homeless houses, day care facilities for homeless children, hospitals, nursing homes, Meals on Wheels recipients, and abuse shelters and during distributions we have toured the homeless facilities, hospitals, nursing homes and abuse shelters to learn more about our community.

We continue to meet once a month, arguing about how the squares should be arranged, listening to the accomplishments of everyone’s children, mourning our aches, pains, and age spots and laughing about anything and everything. We will distribute the Afghans again this Christmas before going out to buy more yarn for the next year.  I have since dropped out of the Bible study group, but I will never leave The Sweatergirls who walk the walk not just talk the talk.

Sarah's Stewings - March 15, 2007                             

Building a house

            Is this crazy…or are we?  Doug and I are building a house.  For the last two months I have walked into every stone yard, appliance store, and plumbing supply house between Houston and San Antonio.   And, I have visited every website about stone, appliances, and faucets when at home. 

And, Doug and I start every Saturday morning, long before dawn, when we get up, pick up Starbucks to go and head west to San Antonio.  Two hours later we pause at “Buckee’s”(one ad reads EAT HERE-GET GAS) for a sausage and cheese Kolache which means very little sausage or cheese and lots of starchy dough. By 8:15 a.m. we are at the tile store in San Antonio. By 8:16 a.m. Doug is bored and I am confused.  By 10:00 a.m. we are at the stone yard (or carpet store, or cabinet maker or appliance barn). By 10:01 Doug is bored once again and I am confused again. By noon Doug is driving us out of San Antonio like a bat out of his hell.  We stop at a Burger King near Devine, Texas (a misnomer) so Doug can order a double meat Whopper and I can order a veggie burger (I love to watch the Burger King people scramble to find the veggie burgers) and we share an order of fries (we’re both on diets).  On to Dilley, Texas (not home of the Dilly Bar) and then a right turn to our ranch.  We meet with the builder at 1:30 p.m. and by 1:31 p.m. both Doug and I are confused and by 5 p.m., after Doug has discussed extra costs with the builder, we are looking for the aspirin bottle.

            We drive home early Sunday morning to avoid the weekend traffic.

Sarah's Stewings February 14, 2007

How to Sabotage a Diet

At the start of 2007 I decided to lose weight for medical reasons—I didn’t want to listen to my doctor’s lectures any more!  And so, my goal was to lose ten pounds (all those over 50 years old know the challenge).  However, I know 365 ways to sabotage my weight loss efforts.  They include: declaring that after I finish this bag of chips or that bowl of popcorn, I won’t eat them again; thinking that just one little piece of pie or cake or chocolate won’t hurt; discovering that the olive bread is delicious toasted and buttered; deciding life’s too short; and on and on.

And now I have one more sabotaging excuse. Let me explain. Last week my friend Joanie and I drove into Houston to do some errands.  After picking up her silver baby fork (repaired after a spin in the garbage disposal), roaming the aisles of an antique store (stocked with high prices) and finally looking for a place to eat lunch, I noticed a drug store soda fountain that I had read about in a “good place to eat” newspaper column.  We were hungry, we were there, we went in. (So far, my diet was on track). We sat down at the only booth still empty and waited for menus, enjoying the look of the place—the swivel stools, the red laminated counter top, the old fashioned Coke machine. The menus came and we both asked about the soup of the day (vegetable) and discussed the salads offered (the garden salad with grilled chicken sounded good).  And then, I glanced down at the Soda Fountain offerings…first on the list “Shake or Malt”.  The description bragged that the drinks were served in the metal shake cup they were blended in (remember those? About 20 ounces of thick, flavored, ice creamed milk).  The flavors included vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, coconut, and my all time favorite, pineapple (can you guess when my diet plan began to crash?). I forgot about the salad, didn’t care about the soup, ordered a pineapple milk shake and the grilled hamburger on a bun with mayo for an added touch. (Joanie ordered a vanilla shake and hamburger). We sat in the booth, enjoyed every sip and bite and reminisced about our teenage days of little butts and big hair.

Holiday Greetings to All in 2006

Darn the luck! Just when Doug and Sarah have lived long enough to know many of the answers,

   no one is asking them any of the questions.

Exciting news, Thomas Ryan Fisk, 3rd grandchild, was born 1/27/06. “Mr. Smilie” can pick

   up the smallest inedible object to put in his mouth faster than the speed of mommy, bang on the

   table to the beat of his own tune and throw pureed peas to see if they can fly. Such a clever boy.

Coming to the end of 2005, Beth resolved to be nicer to her husband in 2006. Her husband Jon

   resolved to listen to his wife. Beth looked at Jon, smiled and said, “You go first.”

Keeping up with their children has Todd and Jill going in all directions on little sleep and littler

   time to themselves. After their third child was born they switched from man-to-man to zone

   defense, realizing that adjustments on the run were the key to their survival.

Three-year-old Griffin, 2nd grandchild, is the self-proclaimed “ruler of all.” He bosses his world

   with finger-pointing directness and king-like expectation of obedience.

Her love is to be stage center. Six-year-old Gracen, 1st grandchild, acted in her school play,   

   Dinosaur Valley, as “Baby Anatosaurus,” “Child D” and “Child P.” She is eager to share the DVD

   when asked or when not asked.

Ever changing lives, Jon is now Head Cycling Performance Consultant (he helps cyclists go faster)

   and Beth had her “winningest year ever” in cycling. They also moved into a new house closer

    to Boulder’s business center where they can cycle to restaurants in less than five minutes. They’ll

    race anyone who opts to drive a car instead (parents come to mind). Doug and Sarah don‘t care

    who wins as long as they get to eat at the end of the race.

His days are busy working at MustangCAT and managing Elm Creek Ranch (no retirement). Her days

   are full volunteering and writing and grandchildren (no retirement). Doug and Sarah are still having

    fun doing what they love. Log onto www.sarahfisk.org for Sarah’s Stewings about her life.

Asked how things are at home, Todd always answers with one word, “Mayhem!” He’s right. But it is

    a good mayhem as mommy Jill runs their home with love and patience and their three children fill

    it with talking, giggling and very busy hands and feet.

Luck was with Jon in mid-summer when he was hit by a car while cycling in Boulder and only broke   

   both wrists. However, for many weeks afterward Beth had to be his hands. She turned that unwanted  

    job into a humorous narrative about caring for her husband. Jon is fine now and back to cycling. Log

    onto www.bfisk.blogspot.com to see Beth’s photos and read comments on her life with husband,

    friends, family and all things strange and funny in her world.

Life is good. Even though, between the two of them they don’t have one “good” body (Doug com-

   plains of digestive problems and joint pain and Sarah complains of memory loss and muscle ache),

   they still rise (slowly) each morning together, get ready for bed (real early) each night together and…

Sit by the fire pit at the ranch while their grandchildren cuddle on their laps and their adult children

   talk around them. Doug and Sarah know how blessed they are. Come visit. They’ll pull up another

   chair by the fire. And if you want to make Doug and Sarah’s life even better, ask them a question…

   any question…Please.

Sarah’s Stewings-November 20, 2006

 Lost Luggage Update

            Continental Airlines lost my luggage on a flight from San Francisco to Houston.  It was never found. 

Lessons to be learned from my experience:

1. IMPORTANT: Continental Airlines (and probably all airlines) do not reimburse for any electronic equipment lost on the airline—that means cell phones, cameras, and I’m sure computers and Blackberrys (although all I had in my suitcase was $450 worth of phones, cameras, and chargers) so take electronics through security and carry on the airplane.

2. The airline did seem to make a concerted effort to fine my lost suitcase. There is a warehouse in Houston that stores all lost luggage from around the world. A woman (very sympathetic sounding) called for specific details about my suitcase before going into the warehouse to look for it…although my suitcase was non-descript black like most, I did have a luggage tag and a green handle to help me find it on the baggage claim conveyor belt…or not.

3. IMPORTANT: Put your name and cell phone number on a big sheet of paper and lay it on top of your clothes inside any luggage you check on a plane…this advice from the woman searching the warehouse for my luggage…she should know.

4. And so, the sympathetic searcher called back the next day…

5. No luck…luggage still lost.

6. I submitted my lost luggage claim with receipts for all expenses over $100 (expect for the $150 worth of needlepoint threads I stuck in my luggage at the last minute…bad move). The total claim: $2623.87.

7. IMPORTANT: Staple receipts for anything over $100 to the back of your credit card bill for the month they were purchased. That way, if you need proof of a purchase, you have it. Another, more difficult way to get receipts is to go to every store where items were purchased and find out if their cash registers have record of your purchases. (That’s how I was able to get most of my receipts).

8. A month later, another woman (not so sympathetic sounding) called to tell me what was disallowed on my claim (the above mentioned electronics and threads).  The total reimbursement: $1996.42.

9. IMPORTANT: I will now submit a claim to American Express which reimburses for lost items bought with their credit card and since we bought the ticket with AmEx. I’m hopeful there will be some further compensation for my loss. I’ll keep you posted

Have a great Thanksgiving and if you’re flying anywhere…beware!

Sarah’s Stewings November 1, 2006    

Reading a great book 

I just finished reading The Sound and the Fury written by William Faulkner. I think my brain is swollen from the effort.  Reading The Sound and the Fury is like “reading” a Jackson Pollack masterpiece…at first, you know it is a great book (or painting) but you don’t know why.  Slowly as you continue to read the seemingly disjointed sentences (or study the seemingly random splatters) you begin to understand.  When you finish reading the novel (or staring at the painting) you feel a bit more cultured.  I bought the study guide “Sparknotes” (the modern-day “Cliff Notes”) to help me with Faulkner’s myriad characters.  When was the last time I bought a study guide?  I remember exactly.  In my first year at the University of Evansville I needed help with Dante’s Inferno (who didn’t?). I didn’t read Dante’s Inferno (who did?) just the “Cliff Notes” and still got an “A” in the class.  (Sometimes lazy is rewarded). Anyway, The Sound and the Fury is about the demise of a family through all sorts of bad things…prejudice, lust, cruelty, indifference, etc., etc.  “Sparknotes” says “The Sound and the Fury requires intense concentration and patience to interpret and understand.” Now I know why I didn’t enjoy it.  I haven’t been able to concentrate since…well, long before freshman English and my patience wore out during my raising-teenager years.  I am glad I read Faulkner.  Reading great literature helps the ego.  And maybe I learned something besides the obvious…never again.  

P.S. Books I HAVE enjoyed reading: March by Geraldine Brooks-a historical

Sarah’s Stewings October 1, 2006                                          

At Rest 

            Today is my 58^th birthday and so I am giving myself a sit-and-not-feel-guilty gift.  I am on the front porch at the ranch house and not doing anything more than sitting.  And to those who think I do nothing more than sit all day anyway, I would just like to say…Despite how it looks; I do NOT just sit all day.  I am sitting here reminiscing about my last 58 years.  I met the love of my life as a teenager and, despite the odds, we’re still together and still in love.  My adult children are my pride, their childhood makes me smile.  My 88 year old parents are still standing, or at least sitting.  My grandchildren bring me delirious joy.  My friends and family know my deficiencies and love me anyway.  My face is wrinkled and creased, but more from laughter than sadness.  My joints creak when I move, but I can still roll out of bed and walk to Starbucks every morning.  What is my point?  God’s grace in my life amazes me.  If anyone hears me complain about ANYTHING…shut me up. 

P.S. Sorry this Sarah’s Stewing is a week late…guess I do sit more than I should.   

Dec. 15, 2004

Another Clean Closet

When I was growing up, I had a small “look-in closet,” just big enough for my clothes (with a narrow floor to pile clothes onto), but not big enough to enter.   I was a slobby teenager, not in appearance but in closet décor.  Now, as an adult, I have a closet that is big enough to walk-into and has more floor to pile onto.  And since the slob never wanders far from the psyche, my closet needs to be cleaned out once again.  (See “Clean Closet” in the Published Essays section).

            Are you asking yourself how bad was it?  Picture a mass of jumbled shoes and tangled hangers with sweaters in clumps, t-shirts in wads and pants hanging by a leg.  I don’t know how my closet got so bad…I guess the answer goes back to the slob reference in the first paragraph.  Anyway, this time, I not only cleaned my closet, I purged it.

            Purging my closet was not easy.  In fact, it required soul-searching, eye-shutting, and the truth-telling help of a good friend.   By the end of the day I had a mass of shoes, pants, sweaters, t-shirts, and hangers on the floor of the bathroom and a closet with all things in their place and looking their best.  I was surprised by how much of my clothing needed to go to the rag bag, the laundry room, or the cleaners.  My friend lugged away a giant trash bag of discards and I made a dash for the washer with a load of spotted sweaters.  Another bag held enough stained silks and wools to keep the drycleaner in business for another year.

Clearing and neatening my closet has changed me.  Now, when I walk in my closet I feel like I am looking at a new wardrobe.  I can see my clothes and mix and match easily.  The good feeling I get in my closet further intensifies the bad feeling I get in my paper strewn office.  I think another purge is necessary.  I wonder when my friend is available.  I guess you CAN take the slob out of the psyche…for now anyway. 

I’ll let you know in a year.