It’s fun to listen to the music of my parents it brings back good memories soon we will all be together again then we can start a new. love you both.  You can then dance forever . Sandra

i carry your heart with me
(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it
(anywhere i go you go, my dear; and 
whatever is done by only me is your
doing, my darling)
 i fear no fate
(for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no world
(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has
always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is
you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud
of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called
life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can
hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the 
stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

by e.e. cummings  (in his written form)

This a true favorite poem of mine. No explanation is needed why I love it. Only that it touches the heart and mind and transports thoughts into something grander,  a love of one soul for another. 
I love you grampa... i carry your heart... ... Melody


 

Summertime family gatherings were similar to a Norman Rockwell painting. 'The women' would prepare their picnic contribution the day before the gathering. There were the traditional 'fixings' of fried chicken home made potato salad and Mable's scrumptious chocolate cake. Only the best recipes were prepared as ones reputation rested on how well the dish turned out. Everyone dressed in their prettiest, most handsome summer attire for that inevitable first visual inspection.

The picnic location was always chosen for it's proximity to a large lake with shade trees and perhaps a picnic table or two for the smorgasbord, hopefully, away from the ants.

Upon arrival, after all the kisses, hugs and handshakes -'the men' would quickly unpack the cars laden with food, blankets to picnic on, a change of clothing for everyone, especially play clothes for the children, toys, diapers, fishing gear, perhaps a folding chair or two for grandpa and grandma, maybe a croquet set, balls and gloves to play catch and even horse shoes.

While 'the women' set up the picnic (everyone was starved)... 'the men' would gather for a smoke, tell "Ole and Lena" jokes and turn the car radio on to catch the latest score of their favorite baseball team. At the call of "dinner" everyone crowded together looking over the 'spread' of foods before them, getting in line to have a taste of all the various dishes. Settling down to eat and enjoy the shade trees, everyone talked and laughed. Comments about how delicious the food was, made the hard work worth while, then chatter eventually turned to quieter voices. The men "rested their eyes" for a few and the women had a little slow down time to catch up on things. While the kids explored and played together.

In the late afternoon we'd pack up, say our goodbyes with hugs and kisses, and drive to our respective homes. The kids were tired, dirty and sticky after eating and playing in the hot sun all day. They would either sleep or cry all the way home. 'The women' caught up in thought, would remember that pretty outfit someone else had worn, or the recipe that caught "everyones" attention, or the latest "story," aka gossip! 

'The men' reflected on the fish they almost caught, that off color joke that hopefully Mable didn't hear and the play that won the ball game for "their favorite team." It all came down to a beautiful, memorable summer day!

Winter time snow was always a huge part of our lives on the prairie and so was the wind. There were winters when the wind would blow the snow into drifts so high, we could walk to the top of the roof.

The town was still and quiet after a blizzard. People seemed to be resting their minds from the on-slaught of nature...especially the blowing wind, while gathering their strength to face shoveling the snow.

For my dad's happy, energetic family, the storm was a signal to pull out the snow sled and dash outside to play winter games. Grandpa Oscar would tie two, three and sometimes four ropes, of different lengths, to the fender of the car, pulling the kids through the snow on sleds, skis and sometimes ice skates. Laughter would ring like a bell through the crisp air and the snow covered tree branches 

My dad loved remembering those young family outings with his siblings. They joyfully romped in the ice and snow, throwing snowballs, laughing, making snow angels and snowmen with stick arms, and coal faces, adding someone's colorful hat and muffler for that final touch. It was pure fun on those days! Clean and clear in my memory as fluffy white snow.

During the last few days of my father's life, my mother and sister Vicki watched over him from his bedside. Mother as she always has, was holding his hand and gently talking to him.

On the morning of July 18th, I was instantly awakened with thoughts of my father, so I quickly went to the phone to call him. Jule and I waited for the nurse to position the speaker phone on his pillow near his ear so we could speak with him. I began the conversation with "Daddy... I love you!" My voice broke, I was filled with such powerful emotions of love and care for my father, knowing how fragile things were at this point. I handed the phone to Jule and he said, "I love you Les, you're a wonderful man." 

We heard a faint reply... a sigh...waited a few moments in silence, then the nurse spoke, "Your father has passed... I think he was waiting for your call..."

My mother sat quietly at his bedside for a long while... Holding his hand.