The Older We Get

The older we get, the more we understand that women who know and love us--and love us despite what they know about us--are the joists that hold up the house of our existence.  

Everything depends on them.

~Anna Quindlan

Even though the who, what, when and why of our friendship differs pertaining to who is doing the remembering...

I remember this. 

You were there.  

For it all. 

And that, my dear friend, is all that matters.

Happy 50th (really? lalalalalalala-I can't hear you) Birthday!! 

  

Between Remembering and Forgetting

Today was the day. I forgot.  I haven't always forgotten.  I usually remember.  I wonder if I forgot because of the tragedy in Colorado?  Or maybe I forgot because today, like many other days, I hit the ground running with little time to contemplate what to wear let alone, what day it was and what it meant. It might be a good thing that I forgot. But all of a sudden, I feel...  well, I'm not sure how I feel.


Twenty years ago today, my mother died. She was just 3 weeks shy of turning 48. I have been 48 for almost 8 months. I am older than my mother was when she died. I am older than my mother ever was.
I... am older than my mother.  


Twenty years and six months ago, my mother and father sat at my kitchen table and calmly tried to explain to me that they were on their way to the Mayo Clinic first thing in the morning.  My mother had been doctoring for a sinus infection and the doctor had referred her to a dentist and the dentist took a picture of her jaw line only to discover a tumor, the size of a golf ball, lodged in her head.  The dentist said something like, do not pass go and go straight to jail/the hospital to see what he could already see, only better. She went to the hospital in Fargo and they told her to go straight to the Mayo Clinic.  "We will call ahead," they said, "and let them know you are on your way." They told her to go... "first thing in the morning."  


My father took my mother to the Mayo Clinic. The Mayo Clinic poked and prodded, and took more pictures. The diagnosis was not good.  She would most likely need, and did have - chemotherapy, surgery, and a little radiation thrown in for good measure.  None of the hocus-pocus of traditional cancer treatments worked any magic for my mother.  Each potion and poison only made her weaker and sicker.  She was diagnosed in January.  She died six months later on July 20th, 1992.
She was only 47 years old.


When she died...  I was 28 and had just had baby number 4.  My brother Tim was almost 23.  My brother Peter was 22, and a newlywed with a baby on the way. My sister Megan had just turned 18. And my Dad - well, he was 50-ish.  I never paid much attention to his age or hers.  They were my parents and regardless of their age, I thought they were old. Turns out they weren't. None of us were.


They say 'age is just a number'.  I guess for those of us still here it is.  We're only as old as we feel I suppose. But for me, 47 wasn't just a number.  It frightened me a little. It became a milestone in my mind. I met it head on. I breezed right on by. Now at 48 and twenty years to the date of my mother's passing, I am older than my mother ever got to be. It feels a little strange. I feel a little sad and tiny bit guilty.  But it also feels like a bonus.  


I found this today.  It is just one of the subtle hints the day had presented to me to remind me of what I had forgotten.


Sometimes,


I don't like


the memories
because the tears
come easily,
and once again I break
my promise
to myself for this day.


            It's a constant battle


A war between remembering                                     and forgetting.

REMEMBERING...  MOM & ME

And Mom, if your reading this.  Twenty years later some things have changed yet most have not.

Dad's still a loner.  He thinks he is one with the coyotes. He loves the desert (just like grandpa Albert) and prickly things like cactus and me. You were his better half for sure but he must have been paying attention because he's mellowed a bit. He's still a bit pissed that you're not here for all the grand kids but most likely the reason being is that he has to remember all the birthdays.  He does a good job of remembering. You would be pleased. 

Tim lives not far from Dad and they party all the time! (Well, not dad exactly) He joins Tim for a burger and a beer from time to time in whatever bar/restaurant he's managing.  Tim is a lot like Dad in that he seems to have the same taste in fancy cars and motorcycles.  Thus far he is remaining single, just like Dad, as you spoiled them both.  Not sure who could surpass your patience and understanding for the two favorite men in your life.  Tim seems happy.  He misses you I know.  We still tease him about being adopted but we know he is really the only 'Treichel' in our bunch.

Peter is still married to that sweet little blonde girl from Ulen.  Bryant was born a few days after you left us and 5 more boys followed. Yep. Peter and Angie have 6 boys...  Bryant, Blake, Brett, Braiden, Beau and Brennen.  Now do you see why dad is still a little upset about birthdays?  You would love hanging out at their place.  It's crazy all the time but a happy crazy.  Angie is a good mom,  always hugging up those boys and Peter, he has the patience of you.  He takes the boys fishing just like dad used to take him.  It's survival of the fittest at their house.  Peter might be losing. 

Megan married Chad Brandt - got married in our yard in fact. They now have 3 French Bulldogs, 2 fuzzy cats and one hairless cat.  Megan has your soft heart. She stops for turtles in the road,  rescues pets from their evil owners, and has been known to syringe feed tiny kittens-even in the middle of the night. She manages two vet clinics. AND... she quit smoking.  (Yay! Right?) Chad's a good guy.  He puts up with her 'royal spoiled highness' - they make a good pair.  Did I mention she is spoiled?  I blame Dad.  However mom, considering Megan got the least amount of time with you, she has found her way.  She's a kick ass woman and I love that about her.  She is my sister, my sometimes daughter but mostly... my friend.  You would love hanging out with us.  We remind me of the "vickie's" - I'm Berg and she's Betts.

I'm still married to your favorite boyfriend of mine, Bob.  We decided to have one more baby after Sawyer turned 14 - Surprise!!  Ali married a nice blue-eyed blonde boy last August.  Tyler, Greyson and Sawyer are all working and schooling figuring it out.  Livi is our surprise.  She's keeping us young and keeps Grandpa on his toes.  When he comes for a visit, she runs him ragged.  Livi won't let him forget her birthday.  She sends reminders.

Of course, I miss you most for all mentioned above.  Must be "the mom" in me.  I keep a running tally in my head of all the things we have missed having you here for.  The number is way too big to fit on the page.  We're all OK mom.  We're all making our way without you.  I'm glad I finally remembered the importance of today. In my mind, July 20th, 2012 is the day I officially became older than my mother.  In my heart,  July 20th will always be like in the photograph above - just remembering... 
mom & me.

  

TO THE CLASS OF 1982

You are My Class~My People~My Friends

And sometimes a few pictures and a song is enough.

May you all be...

"Forever Young"

"Rock of Ages" - Cleft for Me

Nope.  Not big enough.

That's better.

There. That's what I'm talking about.  

And - You're Welcome - all you fellow 40 somethings.

Tom Cruise, as Stacee Jaxx in the musical made for the big screen 'Rock of Ages',  rocked my world! 

The movie did not. Oh, it was fun. It was funny. And thank the God's of Rock & Roll that the movie did not take itself too seriously. The reviews are lousy by the way, but that didn't stop me from trekking to Fargo to see it as I just couldn't take it anymore. This movie had been calling my name ever since I heard about it last winter. Thank you Tom Cruise and Alec Baldwin for the date night. You two did not disappoint!

'Rock of Ages' is a bit like karaoke for the stars.  And like karaoke at your local drinking establishment, not all stars can or should sing! But, if you are drinking at your local drinking establishment while watching karaoke, all stars are at the very least.. entertaining?  I should have 'had a few' before seeing this movie. I squirmed through the first fifteen minutes or so with the same anxiety I experience while watching someone do something I suspect they will regret in the morning. A shot or two or more of tequila would have eliminated that I am sure.  

Did I mention that I loved Tom Cruise as Stacee Jaxx?  He is hot.  He is weird - but in a sexy, I want to be your groupie weird way. It worked. For me.  I only wish he would have been in the movie more.  I've always loved the Baldwin brothers, and Alec Baldwin as the aging, never say die rock and roller nightclub owner was great. I think I know him. A few of him. My brother Tim might be him.  But Tim, in case you read this, thank you by the way if you do - You are SO better looking, MUCH younger and you dress WAY better than he does.  Rock on!

I believe this movie is rated PG13. That means 13 and older are good to go right? Wrong. I know I can be a little old fashioned at times but...  Fathers - lock up your daughters! And... Mothers - don't let your babies grow up to be Stacee Jaxx!  There is no bad language in this film. None. Livi has heard more naughty words from her father me than is in the movie.  However, there are stripper poles, tight leather pants, a half naked Tom Cruise, three quarter naked girls and whatever that combination might produce to see. Also, more alarming to the senses is all the 'fashion', and I use that term lightly, of the 80's! It's all there, all for the 13 and older... the big hair, the big shoulders, and the BIG PARTY that we, that lived the 80's know and love.  The complexities of that time in history is too much for the young to understand or appreciate.  Besides, some things are better left in the past, not to be revisited or relived by a new generation of 80's wannabes.  Like my mullet.  

If you remember the 80's, if you love Rock & Roll and never say die - or if you simply just want to have a good time - throw back a few tequila shots and go see it!  

And Stacie Jaxx, if you are reading this - A Humongous Thank You if you are - "Pour Some Sugar On Me" and I'll follow you anywhere! 

<Insert church music here>  

"Rock of Ages - Cleft for me - Let me hide myself in thee"

I know, that's a little weird.  And I'll probably be scorned at the pearly gates.

But it works. 

For me.

A look at my dad from baby to coyote.

And yes, you read me correctly...  I wrote - coyote.

Don't ask, it's way to complicated to explain. 

Okay. So a little explanation might be necessary.

He sent me this birthday card a few years back announcing his transformation.

I wasn't concerned.  

The name change simply confirmed what I already knew.

He is wild.

He is free.

And even though he insists on the name change... 

I still call him Dad.

And when my heart and mind wanderlust for different

horizons - I swear, I can hear him.

I can hear him howling in the night.

Happy Father's Day Coyote Pete!  

Oh, Holy Crap!

What's that you say?!  It's been 3 months since my last post?  

Really?

Wow.

Ummm....  I've been busy people!

... busy CLEANING UP CHRISTMAS!

I know.

Right?

wow.

True confessions.  There are currently 5 little nooks in my house that still bear the resemblance of the holiday season - complete with the added sparkle of cobwebs and dust bunnies.  

I'm not sure what happened here.  

One day it's "Oh, Holy Night" and the next it is "Oh, Holy Crap"- I still have Christmas stuff to put away... in JUNE!

I've been busy.  

As soon as I get this crap these heirlooms put away,  I'll be back.  

I've hired an expert to help me make some improvements to my blog.  She just so happens to be my biggest fan and enforcer.  She is also my daughter.  

Here's the link to her blog...  she's pretty good.  Check her out.  

                            http://midwestmountainess.com/

I can't tell you just how proud I am that I figured out how to put a link to "another's blog" on "my blog" ALL BY MYSELF !!

Like I said... I've been busy.   


Merry Christmas Everybody!


P.S.  Don't be frightened by the current "look" of my blog.  It's 
        just temporary - until the professional gets here.

                                  

House of the Reoccurring Dream House

When I was little, maybe 6 through 10 years of age, I had a reoccurring dream of an evil dog that would walk up and down Thorpe Avenue just like a police car patrolling a beat.  If the dog looked me in the eye, I would die a horrible death much like the melting witch in the 'Wizard of Oz'.  At least I think that is what would have happened. I never let the dog look me in the eye. In order to avoid his deadly glare, I would duck down below the window height in my Grandma and Grandpa's house, and cover my eyes with my quivering fingers and try and lay perfectly still. This always saved me from certain melty death. Thankfully, I grew out of that dream.

When I got a bit older,  the reoccurring dream that all my teeth were falling out began. I have read that this is quite common. I don't mean that all teeth falling out is common, I mean that the reoccurring dream about such a thing happening is common to folks who dream. If you ask me, it is indeed a waste of what could be a perfectly pleasant dream. Whenever I had the teeth dream, I would wake up in a cold sweat, convinced all my teeth were on my pillow, and then have a full blown panic attack about going to school with no teeth.


The teeth dream bothered me so much that I did a little research. I found that mostly, the dream of all teeth falling out of one's face, is interpreted to mean that the dreamer is overly concerned with how one looks and is worried about what everyone thinks of said dreamer. This was my most memorable dream in my teenage years. Go figure!!  If any of you readers are still experiencing this dream... let. it. go.


If you all could see me this very minute in my insulated 'swishy pants' and my worn out, ripped up and stitched together 'Concordia' sweatshirt, you would know that all concern for keeping up appearances is gone and I certainly don't give a rat's butt about what people think of me anymore. However, I do have a slight/big concern for what you kind people think of my blog, so no doubt that will stir up some weird dreams about other body parts falling out or off.  I also read on the 'Mystic Dreams' website that the dream of all teeth falling out tends to reoccur during menopause. Oh, goody.


I don't remember hardly any dreams occurring at all while I was in college, starting a family, raising small children and running around as a crazy mom. I think I just slept at night. Hard. But then, as the kids got bigger and life slowed down a bit, I began dreaming again. 


My reoccurring dream then and now is about a house. Mind you, I do have a house. I have a lovely house that my in-laws planned and built. My house sits on a lovely wooded lot on the outskirts of town. I do love my house but...  I will admit, I do dream of other houses. Maybe everybody does this?  Maybe everybody has a reoccurring dream about their dream house?


The house in 'MY' reoccurring dream is old and big and filled with secret passageways.  I even recognize the location of the house in my dream.  It sits on the North East edge of the city of Ada, about where Lily Lane ends, but instead of farmland, there is dense woods. There are many homes in the woods, but each has its own generous lot full of trees that keeps each house hidden from the next. My house even has a creek and a pond behind it.  When I wake up after dreaming that dream, I actually think I could drive over to northeast section of town to find my house, and to find who is living in it, and see if they are anywhere near death or just would like to move...  out of my house.


Alas, tis' just a dream.


I am tentative to learn how the 'Mystic Dream' website might interpret my house dream.  I don't want the interpretation to ruin it. I want to keep it just as it is... dreamy and magical. Many times I have tried to will that dream into my sleep, as I often want to escape to the dream and the house. I have yet to be successful. I can will myself into that house in the day time hours and I often do. I know my reoccurring dream house is a combination of various houses I have encountered in my life.

I love this house and always have. In my humble opinion, and I know at least about 8 other people who might agree with me, it is the greatest architectural structure in Ada. My husband's sister and her family live there. The outside of my dream house looks a lot like this. No need for a dream interpreter here. I was jealous when they moved in almost 20 years ago and I still am a little. I drive by it everyday and wonder if the homeowners/Wagners are anywhere near death or might want to sell. I'm kidding. (a little).


The house in my dreams has many secret passageways and one of them leads to the playroom of the farmhouse I lived in when I was in grade school. Sadly, I do not have a picture of that farmhouse. It has since been torn down and rebuilt. My mother fashioned a toy room wonderland by painting a giant circus train on the walls of one of the rooms, complete with a lion, giraffe and zebra. Another passage leads to the pot belly stove that my dad refurbished and proudly rigged up in the kitchen. In my dream, I can lay right next to it without losing any eyebrows. 

This house... this is my Gramma and Grampa Fetting's house on Thorpe Avenue in Ada. I lived there on and off for many years through out their lives.  See that front window? That is the one I would lay beneath when the evil dog would patrol the highway. I am grateful for this photo because sadly, the house is gone. A passage I frequent in the house of my dreams, leads to my grandma's kitchen with plants in the window, fruit magnets on the fridge and her chocolate cake in the oven. Another leads up the steep, steep steps to the bedroom with the slanted ceiling and the cabbage rose linoleum on the floor. One of my favorite places to linger in my dream is the lean-to on the back of the house where my Grampa tinkered with and stored his treasures. I can smell the leather, rust, oils and dampness in my sleep. 


I know I have a picture of the house my family moved into after the farm house in the country.  Do you think I can find it?! Heck no. And I have looked. And looked. And looked. Being the perfectionist that I am, I almost scrapped this whole blog for the lack of that picture! grrrrr.


Of course, that house is one of the most magical parts of the house in my dreams. It too, was an old, white, two story house - much, much smaller than the Spaeth/Wagner house in the first picture, but certainly larger than the house in the country and my grandparent's house. The address is 502 West 4th Street, Ada MN.   It's still there, but remodeled a bit. 


Many of the passageways in my dream lead to rooms in that house. One takes me to my old bedroom with the candy-stripe shag carpet and orange walls that I insisted we paint to cover the pale pink that was there when we moved in. Another leads to my mom's kitchen with the orange counter tops and dad's collections of bottles that he excavated from abandoned farmsteads, lining the top of the fridge, heavy with greasy kitchen dust. My most favorite passage is to mom's dining room.  She is sometimes there in my dream. She is smiling and laughing, and playing cards with friends at the dining room table.  She is also sometimes in my dream, lying on the hospital bed we moved into the dining room so she could die peacefully at home.  


Oddly enough, my dream house does not have any secret passageways that lead to any part of the house I am currently living in. I interpret that to mean those additions will come when and if I ever move away from it. However, I know that the wooded lot that my dream house sits on, certainly is a replica of my current yard. My dream house is indeed a combination of various houses in my life that I have encountered and loved. 


I am content to dream this reoccurring dream about my dream house. I know it does not exist on the northeast corner of Ada, right where Lily Lane ends. It exists only in my mind and in my heart.
Dreams don't always come true. I know that to. Most times that makes me sad when I think of my dream house. But sometimes, like this time, I am relieved and kind of happy about that.  If dreams always did come true, I could easily be a toothless, evil dog dodger with a paralyzing fear of melting.  But... I would be living in one hell of a house.  


Sweet Dreams All!!