Sarah's Stewings is a monthly essay.  It may be a diary entry, a book review, or a reflection about a happening in my life.   Please feel free to write Sarah to comment.

Sorry I haven’t submitted a “Stewings” in a while.   Beth posts my essays on my website and she has been in California…busy getting engaged and avoiding snowy Colorado weather.

Sarah’s Stewings—July 1, 2005

A Good Book

 I should hesitate to recommend a book.  Even a book I think is engaging, thought provoking and uplifting.  I should hesitate because reading “taste” is like food taste…some like sushi (I do) some become physically ill at the thought of raw fish (I do—my kind of sushi is cooked).  But even with that understanding, I still want to suggest  A Long Way Down By Nick Hornby as a good story to read over the 4^th of July weekend celebrating free choice.  It is a humorous look at suicide.  Not an easy task but the author accomplishes it.  Four very diverse people meet at the top of a building on New Years Eve, all with the intent of jumping.  They form a pact to delay their suicides until Valentine’s Day and the story tells of their lives and friendships after that chance meeting.  For starters, I was intrigued by the book’s cover…feet only, showing sensible bunion-stretched shoes, new black and white tennis shoes, polished men’s dress shoes, and scuffed black boots.  The shoes hint at the personalities of the four main characters.  Do our shoes suggest who we are?  A question raised.  Why do people consider suicide? A question studied.  Should people commit suicide?  A question answered.  All from reading this insightful page-turner.  If you read it, let me know if you like it.  

Father’s Day—Sarah’s Stewings—June 15, 2005

Fatherhood is a job of learn-as-you-diaper, feed and rock. And on behalf of many women I know, I want to thank those men in our lives who were wonderful fathers and have now become “great grandfathers.” They are the men who know immediately what is important…their grandchildren, and what can wait…almost everything else.  I have watched a grandfather learn that pretending to fish has its rewards…a “whopper” every time and giving horsey rides has its punishments…a backache that only time will cure.  I have seen grandfathers smile easily at the sweetest granddaughter gesture and laugh loudly at the cutest grandson mischief.  I have watched as they played doll house on the floor or reread “Worms Wiggle” one hundred times, their reading glasses perched far down on their nose so they could see words one inch high.  When their sons need help, they are eager to assist.  When their daughters need expertise, they are ready to advise. Grandfathers are protectors, leaders, defenders, and many times everyone’s comic relief.  But what makes many of them extra ordinary is their heart.  Grandfathers learned to be caring fathers on the run to work and home again and they know how to be caring grandfathers at a slower pace to enjoy every moment with their grandchildren.

OUCH—Sarah’s Stewings—June 1, 2005   

My quiet, post raising-children days of volunteer work and writing are sometimes interrupted by grand-babysitting duties.  However, until last Wednesday, I had never been responsible for both my five-year-old granddaughter Gracen and two-year-old grandson Griffin at the same time on the same “Mimi Adventure.”  Seemed like a simple enough assignment…didn’t I once take care of my two children all day, every day?  Yes.  Can I do it again for one day?  Apparently not without incident. 

Our “adventure” wasn’t very exciting, a visit to my house, but to the sometimes-easy-to-please minds of children, it was an adventure none the less.  And, all started off well.  We made the twenty minute car trip with minimal trauma (I couldn’t find the “right” CD to play in the car’s player but the offended child survived) and both children ran into the house to find their favorite toy.  Soon after, it was lunchtime.  I relived the days when I had no time to eat.  While rushing by the kitchen counter a little too fast to serve Gracen extra kiwi, I plowed my hip into a sharp corner. An I’m-going-to-bruise OUCH. 

Afterward, Griffin and I read his giant board book entitled 100 first words in English and Spanish.  It dropped on my toe.  An I’m-going-to-limp OUCH.

The next part of our adventure was a stop at Ben and Jerry’s for ice cream.  I indulged in a scoop of Heath Bar Crunch (since I hadn’t eaten lunch), Gracen chose a kiddy cup of Cookies and Cream, Griffin ate Strawberry/kiwi Sorbet.  Griffin kept dropping spoonfuls of melting sorbet on the floor, looking down and saying “uh-oh.” Needless to say, Griffin finished eating first.  When I grabbed for him as he began to climb the coffee cart, trying to touch the cow painted on the far wall, I wrenched my back.  An I’m-going-to-need-a heating pad OUCH.

Finally, back to their home.  Griffin fell asleep in the car and when I was carrying him into his house I whacked my knee on the front door frame. I don’t mean hit or bumped, I mean whacked.  An I’m-going-to-need-an ice pack OUCH.

So it is true that while I took away and returned two happy, healthy children, I hobbled back to my car bruised, bent over and limping. And it made me wonder…how did I survive raising two kids!

Sarah’s Stewing May 15, 2005

Listening to the Radio

I have a confession to make.  When I’m driving, I listen to Country-Western music.  I feel I must confess this because every writing teacher I have ever had, has mentioned, very snobbily it seemed to me, that they only listen to National Public Radio (NPR).  And so I immediately decided that the NPR listeners were in a league I didn’t belong to.  Country-Western songs entertain me with stories of down and out marriages or up and coming romances. “There goes my heart” or “Here comes my baby” makes me want to sing along.  I know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em thanks to Kenny Rogers and why the lights went out in Georgia thanks to Reba.   Willie gets me excited to be on the road again and Shanya makes me proud to be a woman.  My husband and I have danced in the family room to Anne Murray singing “Can I have this dance for the rest of my life, will you be my partner every night…”(This is my confession—my husband wouldn’t want anyone to know we dance to that song).  And then, yesterday, I decided to listen to Houston’s NPR station.  First, I listened to Lake Wobegon …with children above average and stories beyond ordinary. And then, the NPR program All Things Considered interviewed the author of a book, set in 1935, about “Magnolia,” the first black spelling bee finalist whose life was limited by prejudice and inopportunity.  Magnolia wanted to be a doctor, she ended up as a maid.  Hum…I may want to listen to NPR a little more often.  Obviously it airs funny anecdotes, good stories, and poignant thoughts.  I have a confession to make.  When I’m driving, I listen to NPR or Country-Western music…one and the same, sometimes.

Sarah’s Stewings—May 1, 2005

It’s tough being a parent of an adult child, caring so much about another being that you have no control over.  Beth had a wreck on her bicycle this weekend.  A bad wreck.  She could have suffered severe head or back injury…but, she’s all right. Her helmet split in two, her bicycle bent double, but she’s all right.  Beth has had friends crash on bikes and break bones or get hit by cars and suffer through months of rehabilitation.  This is the letter I wrote a mother as she sat by her daughter in the hospital room.  It can be the letter to any parent who is sitting by their adult child’s side.

Dear Kathy,

As the mother of another Denver team member, Beth Fisk, I want you to know that my thoughts, prayers, and wishes are with you.  My thoughts for your stamina caring for your daughter, my prayers for your daughter’s continued recovery, and my wishes for only safe rides in your daughter’s future.  Having an adult child is a mixed blessing isn’t it?  The bad news…they won’t let you surround them with your arms to keep them by your side, safe from all harm (they wouldn’t even let you do that when they were growing up).  The good news…they are strong, resilient, adventurous, courageous people.  I know you have stories to tell about your daughter’s strength, are in awe of her resilience, are used to her adventures, are proud of her courage.  Today as you wait through another surgery, all we parents will be sitting with you, if only in spirit, holding your hand, praying for your daughter, and understanding your fears, knowing your daughter has the resolve to recover.  But for now, I know what you’re doing…you’re surrounding her with your arms.

April 15, 2005—Sarah’s Stewings 

Life’s Full Circle Moments

Full circle moments happen to us all.  On Doug’s birthday (I won’t tell you which one, suffice to say I’m younger than he is) we both experienced life’s full circle moments.

            In the afternoon of Doug’s birthday, I picked up Gracen (grandchild number one).  We headed downtown to see “The King and I” on stage.  I have seen “The King and I” on stage one other time.   It was 1968 in St. Louis with my fiancé Doug.  I still remember watching Yul Brynner, starring as “the king,” singing “It’s Puzzlement,” and dancing with “Anna” to “Shall We Dance.”  Thirty-six years later I was re-living the same play, the same songs, the same excitement with my granddaughter.  That was my full circle moment.  It overwhelmed me with thanksgiving.

            Then, that same evening, we celebrated Doug’s birthday with Todd and Jill, Gracen and Griffin.  One of my gifts to Doug was that he did NOT have to go to “The King and I.” Gracen thought Popi (Doug) must be sorry he didn’t go—he wasn’t.  Shortly after we sang “Happy Birthday” to Doug, Griffin (grandchild number two) bumped his head and cried for “Popi” to hold him.  Doug held his grandson to his chest to comfort him, Griffin’s head on Doug’s shoulder the same way, 34 years earlier, his son had put his head down on Doug’s shoulder.  Doug had a chance to comfort his grandson with the same tenderness his son once needed and in that moment his life came full circle too.

Sarah’s Stewings—April 4, 2005

What follows is my article I wrote for Northwest Assistance Ministries’(NAM) March 2005 newsletter.  I have been an assistance interviewer at NAM, helping clients with rent, food, clothing, etc. for almost fifteen years and write a column, Sidelines With Sarah, for the newsletter every two months.  

Someone’s Son

As I listened to NAM’s client answer questions about his education and family, I thought how easily he could have been my son.  He graduated where my son graduated, his major was similar to my son’s and like my son, and he had a wife and child.  I realized that someone’s child needed a job.  Someone’s grandchild needed food.

The twenty-five-year old, quiet spoken young man sitting in my Assistance office graduated with a four-year degree in Petroleum Engineering. Well-educated clients asking for NAM’s help are rare, but unemployment creates unexpected circumstances.  My client had been job-searching for eight months.  After his unemployment checks ran out, he had been paying his mortgage and other bills with credit cards, piling up debt.  He had no friends to call on in the oil industry, just his recent college education and limited work experience to “sell” to a new employer. NAM could help with several weeks’ worth of food and infant formula.  And, for this particular client, I began to call anyone I could think of in the oil industry in hopes of helping my client fine a job. A good friend, who babysat for me many years ago, offered to look at my client’s resume and call him for an interview or forward the resume to others in the company who were hiring. 

            When we interview, we volunteers listen to a myriad of problems and then try to come up with solutions to those problems.  And most of the time, we do.  Sometimes a client’s crisis can be solved with rent money, or gas to drive to a job interview, bus tokens to get to a job, clothing or food.  Sometimes we interviewers have to be more creative with our assistance.

 Sarah’s Stewings March 20, 2005

Never say always.  Last October I pledged to post a Sarah’s Stewings on the 1^st and 15^th of every month and I have failed miserably…not the first time in my life, but I do hate to fail.  SO, I’m trying this again.  There are two new essays posted, one about stay-at-home motherhood and the other about grocery-shopping husbands.  I hope you enjoy them.  AND I will try to write a Sarah’s Stewing on the 1^st and 15^th of every month…Starting with today, March 20^th…oops…I’ve already fallen down on my pledge by 5 days!

This has been a busy month of wedding planning with my daughter and now that the wedding is only six months away, I’m getting nervous.  NOT because of the bride…Beth is organized, decisive, and determined to have the wedding she has always wanted and I’m backing her 100% (her dad is a little nervous though).  NOT because of the wedding plans…Beth has her date…Sept. 24^th, and her city…Boulder (outside in a city park edged by the Rocky Mountains), and her reception location which is where she has always wanted it to be.  NOT because of the wedding gown… Beth chose her dress and she looks like a princess in it.  She tried on several dresses as I watched, feeling a little teary-eyed with sentiment as my baby girl put on a veil, but the wedding dress-buying experience was a highlight of raising a daughter.  NOT because of the groom…when I told Beth’s fiancé Jon how stunning Beth looked in long flowing gowns he said it didn’t surprise him since she looked stunning in jeans and a t-shirt.   BUT because…I still have to buy my dress! What color? What style? What size? What a nightmare!  This is much harder than being mother of the groom and I’m getting nervous. 

 Sarah’s Stewings February 1, 2005

With one quick answer YES I have been transformed from Mother to Mother-of-the-Bride.  Beth and Jon Tarkington are engaged.  And so I’ve gone from…

• Caring little about my hair to experimenting with hair-cuts and highlights.
• Losing 10 pounds to realizing that’s not enough!
• Wearing a wardrobe of boring blacks and whites to wondering what color looks best on me.
• Reading no magazines to poring over two “Wedding” Magazines (which cost me over $10…no wonder I don’t read magazines).
• Feeling calm about my days and nights to panicking over all the wedding plans to be completed in eight short months.

These are only a few of the changes in my life.  There will be more.  The biggest change will be one forever.  In September 2005 I will have a son-in-law…Jon Tarkington.  I look forward to it.  His parents did an exceptional job raising him into a fine young man. 

Sarah’s Stewings 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.

Sarah’s Stewings-December 1, 2004

            I just walked in the door from a week of skiing in the Colorado Rockies.   For those of you who know me well…no, I did not sprain, wrench, or break anything.  I am a good skier…I swear.  Anyway, this is not about Thanksgiving, but about two books I read while lounging in the afternoon, the snow falling outside. 

            Mr. Timothy by Louis Bayard is a novel explaining the life of Tiny Tim after Ebenezer Scrooge (or “Uncle N” as he is called in the story) befriended and helped the Cratchit family.  The story takes place in the 1600s in London, at a time when police protection could be bought and so could women.  In the novel, Tim’s father, recently deceased, appears to him as Tim tries to become an independent adult, no longer in debt to his generous Uncle.  Within the novel is the suspense of a mystery as Tim befriends a young orphan and he is drawn into the danger the young orphan faces.  (Paperback.  384 pages)

            The Ghost of Hannah Mendes by Naomi Ragen is a novel that shifts from a modern day story of the Mendes family back to 16^th century Spain and Portugal during the Spanish Inquisition.  The Inquisition began during the reign of Queen Isabella to unify Spain with Catholicism.   (See how much I learn when I read).  The present day story centers on two adult granddaughters of a dying matriarch with a fortune to inherit.  While both stories are interesting, the story of the brave, wealthy Hannah Mendes as she survives the Inquisition and keeps her religion alive is the more interesting.  The novel is the story of the importance of ones own life and impact on others.  The importance of tradition and history kept alive.  (Paperback.  381 pages)

I usually take notes when I read a book.  But not while on vacation…I read these two books for pleasure and enjoyed every word.   I hope you do too.

Sarah’s Stewings—November 15, 2004 

My Confession

I had to go to the doctor last week for a chest X-ray to confirm what I suspected.   I broke the 7^th rib on my left side.  How did that happen?   Let me explain.

I am a menopausal woman who has lost her smooth skin, lost her youth, and lost her memory.  In fact, the only thing I have had trouble losing is my weight.  But, finally, I lost some unwanted pounds (more about that at another time).  And so, I decided to try on a pair of blue jeans I could not fit into for over two years.  As I snapped them shut and zipped them up, they felt just a teensy bit too tight, but I thought I could live with that.   However, when I bent over to pick up a pair of shoes, I felt a sharp pang on my left side…you know the rest...I cracked my rib. 

Now, if you think that is the only dumb thing I have ever done…sadly…you are mistaken.

Once I rushed to the grocery store only to discover that I still had on my bunny slippers so I limped around the store hoping the other customers would think that I was recovering from foot surgery.

I bought a piñata for Todd’s 6^th birthday party, but didn’t know that it was empty.  When the birthday guests hit it open with a baseball bat, nothing fell out.  I realized my mistake and raced to the store to buy candy to throw out to the children as their parents waited to take them home.  I noticed that some of the parents shook their heads in disbelief…others laughed.

I have broken a tooth eating a frozen Snickers bar (I didn’t have the discipline to wait until it thawed), I have…well, you get my point.  My secret is out.  I don’t pay attention to what I am doing OR I’m not as smart as I think I am. 

I have learned from my dumb moves…I check my feet when I leave the house, fill piñatas before a party, keep Snickers bars at room temperature, and when I wear those blue jeans again, I won’t bend over in them. I hope I can remember!

Sarah’s Stewings—November 1^st—Halloween

Halloween has come and gone, sugar-overload Halloween…when I eat a bag of Snickers before the big night and during the big night and after the big night…that is now.  There was a time when I was a gangly teenager who wished that, on one special Halloween night, I had magical powers to make Doug think that I was a dark-haired beauty with perky nose, shapely legs, and dreamy eyes that didn’t need glasses.  That was the Halloween night Doug and I had our second date, nearly forty years ago.  

Flash ahead twenty years. I dressed up for Halloween and as part of my costume I wore an old pair of my eyeglasses.  Beth asked me where I had gotten the horn-rimmed, way-ugly glasses.  I told her that they were the glasses I wore when I first met her dad.  Beth’s mouth gaped open, her eyes got big, and she yelled, “Mom! It’s a miracle Dad ever asked you out on another date!” I didn’t tell Beth but I knew it wasn’t a miracle; it was a teenager’s Halloween wish come true. 

Flash ahead to a week ago.  While I sat on the couch reading, Doug looked over at me and said, “You look hot!” (No, he didn’t think I was having a hot flash).  I have never looked “hot” in my life and now that I am over fifty, I have nothing perky including my attitude, nothing long and alluring especially my legs and nothing dreamy particularly my eyes.  However, I do have my magical powers…don’t tell Doug, but he’s still under my spell.

Sarah’s Stewings: October 15, 2004

     Tom

I am writing this “Stewings” article early.  Tomorrow I fly to Ames, Iowa to say good bye to a dear friend, my best friend Chris’ husband Tom.  Chris died almost 13 years ago (I think.  I can not remember the exact date…it hurts too much) of colon cancer.  Tom died on Monday of cancer also.  And so, I am going to remind myself as I remind you …kiss a friend, hug a child, smile at a stranger, say “I love you” again and again.   Life has no guarantees, but it does offer happy times to go with the sad.  Tomorrow I fly to Ames, Iowa to say good-bye, but I remember the happy times while knowing Tom and I can smile.

Sarah’s Stewings October 1, 2004

Pass It On

I am going to tell you the good news first.  I appreciate all those who have gotten on my website, thanks.  For all those who have just found my website, I hope you revisit often.  To all those who care, I will post a new Sarah’s Stewing  on the first and fifteenth of every month and hope to also post new essays, book reviews, and humor at least once a month.   Now, my problem.  I don’t know how to tell people that I have a website and invite them to log on and read it.  If you enjoy my website please help me get the word out by telling a friend about it.  I was going to have business cards printed so that when someone commented on how much they enjoyed my writing I could hand them a card to help them remember my website address, but I think that’s too pushy.

 The Motherhood essay posted in “personal essays” was written after my daughter-in-law Jill voiced her difficulty explaining to other people what she did all day as a stay-at-home mother.  I hope all of you who care or have cared for a house full of little ones with big needs will enjoy the essay.  Thanks again for logging on.  And please remember to tell a friend to try www.sarahfisk.org.   Don’t make me have to get pushy.