Outdated Iphone

Picture yourself in someone else's shoes and be compassionate.

Rubbermaid buckets in hand, I and my kids head out early in the morning to stand in the long food line at the Gleaners trucks.  At that moment, my life has hit an all time low.  Yet at the same time, we choose to make the best of our situation by goofing around and having fun as we stand in the two hour queue.

Your attitude determines your outcome,  but what about others attitudes?

Next time you see a struggling parent with an Iphone, don't judge them.  Phone companies offer free outdated phones with a new contract.   You don't know if they just lost their husband, job, or home.

We personally experienced a lot of embarrassing moments after Brian lost his job at the start of the Great Recession.  At the time, I found it was easier for people think bad of us than to reach out and help.  You know, "If you really wanted a job, you'd go get one, any one".  In the end, we realized that the hurting help the hurting.  Often dividing what they have to meet the needs of a friend.

We, a middle-class family, got forced into using assistance for the first time ever in our marriage and  it was very embarrassing!  We've waited in long lines at DHS,  had people sneer at us when using our Bridge card,  stood in long lines at the Gleaners trucks, visited many food pantries, visited a dentist who would treated an animal better than they handled our family (seriously, he put me in a headlock to drill my teeth), lived without hot water or heat for a couple of months during the cold months, had my kids braces repoed, and yes, my kids even got free lunches at school.  We were not living our American dream.  Sometimes peoples lives do not turn out the way they originally planned.

I encourage you to think twice before believe a parent is lazy and not trying in order to calm your conscious tugging at your heart to assist a fellow hurting human. Put yourself in their shoes.  Realize the average person would never intentionally place themselves in a such a trial.  I know what's it's like to feel lonely, worry about something getting shut off, worry about if the food in the cupboard will stretch, and in the end, I even lost my beloved home.  We were not bad people, just hurting really badly.

Driving down Division, I see a sign advertising a food tuck on Saturday.  In my minds eye, I travel back to the days of rubbermaid tubs filled with free food.  I silently reflect how grateful we are to be back on our feet, educated, and ready to face life's challenges again.  I thank God for my hardship. He has taught me to understand the plight and desperation of the poor.  I choose to become a better person in our society. One who love the poor, widows, and orphans.  I choose to be like my Jesus and not judge a parent because they're having a difficult time with life.

I challenge you to let God renew your attitudes too.

 God thank you for changing my heart!

Fishing

                                                        Staring at Ron and Serious

                                                          Mika plots her plan. . .

                                                              fish for dinner.

                        

                                                         Dreamily, she fantasizes 

                                                            About her treat. . .

                                                               don’t catch me.

                                                         Plans canceled by mom

                                                              Shoed away. . .

                                                            maybe another day.

Fly Me To The Moon

                                        

                                                                   1970 New Years Eve Party

While talking one evening about the popular sixties television show, Bewitched, Brian looked at me and said, “Real people do not have cocktail parties where they stand around, drinking highballs listening to Frank Sinatra on the record player.”  I looked at him and started laughing.  I smiled at him and said, “My parents had such parties all the time; we kids had to go upstairs.”

 I remember many nights when my lullaby was Fly Me to the Moon.  My parents loved inviting friends over to eat, drink, play games and dance.  The parties in my home were not merely work-related cocktail parties like the ones on television; the parties on the television were boring by comparison, most of the guests merely standing around talking.  In my home, everyone danced and there was a great deal more laughter.   

Typically, my sister Cece and I would quietly spy on the party from our balcony.  We often saw a similar sight like subject picture:  my mother, Aunt Sharon, Uncle Jim, my father’s partner, Mr. Weinbrenner, and some other guest are dancing around the house in their 1970’s New Year’s party garb.  It was apparent to us that they were having a great time; smiles were seen on all the faces and the house was filled with their chattering.  I love this snapshot of the party frozen in time, real family history.  My parents really knew how to have fun. 

The excitement over the coming evening of fun began with the day’s preparation for the party.  Mom had us clean the house top to bottom; for some strange reason I always got stuck vacuuming the stairs.  I think it was because I was the youngest.  All five of us kids were in charge of making the bathrooms shine, the house dust-free, and kitchen sparkling.  If there was snow in the driveway, my brothers were in charge of completely clearing it so that none of the guest would slip and fall. 

            Other than cleaning the home, we kids could detect the other signs of a big event about to take place by the visit to the store for new coloring books and crayons, special treats and pop.  We kids were told to stay upstairs, where our parents prepared a “kids only party” to take place while the adults had their fun in the rest of the house.  Mom made sure that we had a special celebration with our own special food table, the television set up in the girl’s room, and a pile of games handy to keep us busy throughout the night.  If we were lucky, our cousins would join us upstairs for our private party and a sleepover, and then we would really have a lot of fun.

            Another sign of a “big party” was mom pulling out her beautiful glass dish that she used for her special cherry torte.  Also on the menu, my favorite party food:  golden cheeses.  These were small cheddar cheese-filled pastry. To this day it is one of my favorite nostalgia foods.  Other signs of a big event included the large fancy punch bowl, vegetables and dip, potato chips and dip.

As the sun set, my father turned on the outside Christmas lights as a beacon to guide the visitors.  At the appointed time, the knocks on the front door seemed continuous, as men in suits and ties, and women in colorful maxi-skirts and bee-hive hairdos crossed its threshold, carrying large bowl and trays filled with finger foods or desserts.  Rounds of kisses for all present, and we kids were banished to the upper regions.  It was party time!

I remember a silly game that my parents bought for one such party called Funny Bone.  It was a hilarious game where two people picked a card and imitated the picture.  For example, "the funny bone is connected to the knee bone".  The two-person teams had to place the card between the elbow of one person and the knee bone of the other.  The small team continued to pick cards and connect their bodies together, with the card between them, until they fell or dropped a card.  Watching the grown-ups play this game always made me jealous; I wanted to be invited into the night’s fun.

In the end, I did not really know all that took place at these gatherings, the endless talking and laughing about subjects we knew nothing about.  We kids had to stay in our rooms.  Other than my sister’s and my bird’s eye view from the balcony, all we could tell is that we really wanted to grow up so we could attend such parties.  Finally tired, I laid down to sleep, still listening to the chattering and laughing of my parents and friends, as their voices lulled me to sleep and I flew to the moon, past Jupiter and Mars.

                                                              This is a game worth getting. 

  
                                       

Our First Christmas as a Family of Five

Christmas 1989 – This is the first Christmas spent with all five of us; Ted is two months, Candace is seventeen months, Amanda is twenty-nine months,  Dorothy is twenty-four years old, and Brian is thirty years old. 

Looking at this photo, the realization of what how young we were when we had our kids really hits me.   Back in the 1980’s, it was normal, at least in the circle that we were in, to get married young and start having kids immediately, especially if the wife was not working.  I guess Brian and I took this “having babies” thing seriously, and birthed three two and a half years, not counting my miscarriage between Amanda and Candace.  Our parents thought we were nuts.  My father begged me to stop having kids.  Brian’s father told him that he was not using his head.  He was worried that we would continue birthing babies, without a thought to the rising costs of raising a family.  They did not know what we were we thinking, but I must admit, I did talk about having ten kids, but that was before I had any!

Today, I can honestly say that I am very happy that we had our three kids as close as we did.  It was not always easy, but I loved having the kids close together.  They’ve always had friends no matter where we lived.  Their closeness has continued into the present. I thank God that our kids love and care for each other as much as they do.  

Back to Christmas; Grandma Rabourn loves Christmas.  She did not care if we were not around for Thanksgiving or Easter, but Christmas has always been a totally different story.  When we first drove up to the house, the steamy windows always declared that mom had been cooking for hours.  Walking into her home, our noses were greeted with the aroma of turkey cooking in the oven, a large pot of carrots boiling on the stove, potatoes boiling in their own pot, and of course the large bowl of creamy noodles with chunks of brown meat in it.  I quickly learned to stay away from this bowl, because the meat is chicken gizzards and hearts.  YUCK!  On the center of the table always stood my favorite dish of Christmas -- Honey Baked Ham, and on the counter there were no less than three different pies, sometimes, even more.  This was never a day to diet, but rather to relax and enjoy the foods of the season.

After our noses were greeted by the wonderful smells of Christmas foods cooking, our eyes always started drinking in the colorful lights, tinsel and variety of Christmas bulbs and decorations.  If anyone was not already in the Christmas Spirit, the decorations around the house were enough to dissolve even the Grinchiest attitude into a smile, especially when present time started.  Brian’s parents passed out the gifts, and the paper started to fly.  Well, at least with Amanda, who knew to just rip away.  Candace was still in training, and Ted just sat there looking at us, as if to say, “Why are you so excited?”  Amanda and Ben knew the routine and got into the spirit of the event, tooth and nail.  Those were great times at Grandma and Grandpa Rabourn’s home; I will never forget as long as I live.

            Today, I look forward to the day when I get to be the Grandma buying way more presents than my grand kids really need.  I want it to be my turn to have kids to walk into the steamy windowed house, where their stomach practically gets full smelling dinner.  I earnestly desire a great big dining room table where my kids and their kids can sit and chat the festive day away. 

Rabourncrew First Christmas in Munich

                                                       Grandma Rabourn's Christmas 1997

                                                                            

            I love being part of the Rabourn Crew at Christmas time.  Today, I sat listening to a news report about families losing their jobs and homes, and not being able to celebrate Christmas.  Our family has a very strong opinion of what the true meaning of this holiday is, in addition to the celebration of Jesus arrived in the world as a gift from God.  While in Europe, our family started a tradition that I insist on continuing each year, no matter how much or little money we have.

            When our kids were young, we always spent Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa Rabourn’s, where the tree was so jam-packed that it spilled over half of the living room floor.  Brian’s mother really loved Christmas time.  I cannot even imagine how much money she and dad chose to spend each year on presents, but I know one thing, our kid’s toy room was full of every kitchen appliance that Little Tykes made, in addition to all the food and accessories, Legos, and Barbies that were largely bought by Brian’s parents.  For this, I am deeply appreciative of their generosity.

Our family moved to Europe in 1997.  We did not celebrate a Slovenian Christmas that year, because Brian’s father died that December and our family flew back home for the funeral; we had a Rabourn traditional Christmas with Grandma.  As strange as it might seem, but at least the timing of Dad's death was good, because that December it made it easier for mom to get through her first Christmas without him, in the presence of all her kids and grand kids.  

The first Christmas that we celebrated in Germany was a sad affair, though that had its high points.  In fact, it turned out to be the beginning of the Rabourn Crew tradition that we insist on ever year.  It was Christmas Eve, and we did not have a tree yet.  Brian thought that we would walk around Munich looking at the various Christkindlemarkt, enjoying the Christmas booths, Glühwein, and the beautiful festive decorations set up around the city.  At about 2:00 p.m. people started taking down their booths and all the stores closed their doors.  We did not know that the entire city would shut down completely in order Munich to celebrate birth of the Christ child.  Now the there was nothing to do in town, so we headed home, looking for a tree as we went.  Brian figured that we would buy one from the man selling them close to our home.  When we got off the underground, we saw that his stand was gone and all the trees with it!  We looked at each other, worried that in addition to being the first Christmas away from Grandma, our kids would have to go without a tree.  Feeling like failures, Brian and I started walking down the streets in hopes of finding a tree.  At one point, Brain felt quite desperate and considered cutting down a tree in the woods.  It was good that he did not do this; it is quite illegal remove a tree from any natural area in Germany.  Those "woods" were considered "city park area," and were protected areas.  Candace, Ted and I headed home while Brian and Amanda kept up the search.

As we walked into the lobby of our apartment building, we noticed that there was a small box leaning against our door, and a television set sitting next to the box.  We grabbed the box and opened it up to see what was inside.  Ted’s eyes grew to saucer size and a big smile spread across his face.  He looked up to the ceiling and said, “Jesus you are so funny!” In the box was a miniature Christmas tree completely decorated, lights and all.  When Brian and Amanda got back from their tree search, their defeated expressions did a complete turn-around.  They both looked at us three and asked where we got the little tree.  Believe it or not, that little tree-in-a-box lifted our spirits, especially because it showed that someone was thinking about us.  We spent the rest of the day as usual, cooking special festive foods, making eggnog, drinking sparking grape juice, playing games and telling funny stories.  

In the following years, we invited many people into our family celebration.  This time is precious to the Rabourn Crew.  Its focus is never on presents, but on people.  Actually, there have been many present-less years where our being together eating good food and playing games was everything, but was always enough.  

This year our family is thankful for surviving another tight recession year.  We bought three homes on a very tight budget, and managed to keep our heads above water, at times only because we banded together and pooled our bills.  Many times this season I tried to make myself depressed for not being able to buy presents for the kids, or for my husband, and of course, myself.  Then I started thinking about how strong our family is and how we chose to stick together and support one another.  This Christmas eve, we will not be opening presents, but we will be having a Rabourn Crew Christmas, full of good food, wine and cheese, laughing and games.   

Summers in Oscoda

                                                                                                                       

Yaya and Grandpa Skupin loved staying out in Oscoda, Michigan on their fifteen acres.  As children, their cottage became our summer home-away-from-home.

As kids, were could hardly contain our excitement at the first glance of the gated cottage property entrance, with its small hill and a very narrow two-track, where only welcomed visitors had a key to unlock the summer’s adventure.  After passing through the locked gate, the tree lined, manmade dirt road snaked right and left, straightening out a bit before reaching two trailers.  Along the path, signs to unwelcomed guest were posted here and there reading, “No Trespassing!”  This was one warning that should be listened to; grandpa carried a pistol, and warning shots could be heard in that area.  Unsuspecting trespassers had need to be concerned, even though we called these warning shots "target practice."  Another deterrent to wandering onto the land was our German shepherd, Windy.  She took her job of protecting family seriously; unwanted guests were not looked on as "friendlies".

            The trailers had not always been on the land.  When I was very young, the cabin burned to the ground.  The only remnant was the large sand pile next to the underground electric pump, where my sister Cecelia and I dug for treasure.  Our expeditions turned up old spoons, pieces of broken dishes and an occasional pot or pan.  Mom told me that she spent all of her summers as a youth in that cabin.  There is a visual tale, my mom's personal story of the cottage, which is still easily discerned from the snapshots taken at the time.  Almost every black and white picture of friends and relatives is another page in the catalogue of smiling faces from the past. 

            Yaya and Grandpa were not the original owners of that cottage.  The original owner was a man named Hindy.  He lived in the other cabin at the head of the property.  Grandpa had Hindy when he was in school, as a teacher.  From what I understand from anecdotes, Hindy routinely invited students up North, to Oscoda, for swimming and fishing.  My Grandfather and Hindy grew very close, so close that Grandpa ended up buying fifteen acres from him.  It was not hard for anyone who has ever been there to figure out why he bought fifteen acres of mature hardwood trees, with motor cycle paths, a shooting range, and a down-the-hill path which lead to the docks on the Au Sable River.

            My grandparents' love for the river getaway transferred to us grandkids; we all loved swimming, boating and fishing with them.  I believe that all my siblings and I, and all of our cousins learned how to swim at the cottage.  Every day, my mother and grandmother packed a picnic basket full of food, filled a Thermos with Kool-Aid or tea, and one very important treat, Yaya's lemon drops.  Yaya always told us that if we sucked on a lemon drop, we wouldn’t get thirsty.  Every day our family spent hours swimming, fishing and boating.  Our dogs, Windy and Abdul, could be found at any time, swimming and running up and down the banks of the river, and often flinging dirt on unsuspected sunbathers.  I can still here Yaya yelling, “No, dogs…!” as they both climbed out of the river and intimately shook off by her.  “Splash!”, off went grandma into the water to rinse off.  Each day, after hours of playing in the sun, we dragged our tired bodies up the full one hundred, twenty steps back to the trailer.  Grandma cooked the fish we caught each day, while we kids fell asleep, lying all around the trailer.  

            Sometimes, mom stayed up North with us kids during the week, and dad came up on weekends.  One night, my dad thought it would be funny to surprise my mother in the middle of the night.  Grandpa heard the unexpected car drive past his trailer, and grabbed a gun to go check it out.  Our dog Windy heard dad's station wagon pull up, but didn't recognize it, and started growling.  The door knob turned, and the door swung open.  Windy launched forward at the unsuspected intruder, who was really just dad.  Face to face with a very angry dog, he was also angry.  “Stop, you dumb dog, it's daddy!”  As soon as she heard dad’s voice, Windy backed off, switched off "attack mode" and switched on her “welcome home” mode.  Mom came running out of their bedroom to see what was going on.  After the dust settled a bit, I could hear mom and dad laughing in the bedroom over what had happened.  The next morning at breakfast, I overheard grandpa laughing with dad about how dad almost got shot. 

            In the years to come, Yaya and Grandpa gave each grandchild their own exclusive cottage experience.  During the special vacation week, the chosen grandchild went on their own private adventure.  It typically included going to historical sites in northern Michigan, swimming, boating, picking berries, going to Mr. Jim’s Ice Cream Shop, and for the boys, hunting. 

            These days, we no longer go to the land in Oscoda.  I haven’t been there myself since 1979.  I wish I could’ve passed on the tradition of going to my summer home to my own children, but that chapter in my life closed.  Yaya and Grandpa Skupin are both gone now, leaving us one snapshot catalogue of our childhood in the photo albums, and another special snapshot catalogue of my own, up North, in my heart.

Murphurles

                                                                                

                                                                  Murphurles        

            Wow, I never thought that they would abandon me like they did.  What did I do wrong?  I wonder if dad had it with me jumping on the couch every time he left the house.  Maybe mom did not like how I ate their son’s cowboy boots?  Did the cat tell them that I was eating his food? I just don’t understand…mom loved me.  I remember that short lady coming over for a visit.  She must have really liked the way I greeted her, because she took me outside and put me in her child filled car. Was I going on vacation? The youngest kept pulling my tail.  I did not like that.  We dropped off all of the children at church and went for a ride.  I thought we were going back home, but no, we ended up back at a big brown mountain and the girls got back in the car.  I looked out the window and saw mommy.  "Mommy mommy, hey come and get me, I do not like it here with this family!"  I missed my kids, they called my name, and my heart sank when they drove off.  Where did they go?  This short lady took me to her home.  There were two dogs and three cats living there.  I was use to my cat but not all these strange cats.  The big black dog pushed me around and made me wait until he was done eating before I could eat.  Why was he so mean to me?  The youngest kid came and pulled my tail while I ate my dinner.  I decided to show her not to hurt me by biting her in the arm.  Now I have shown her.  The next thing I knew the short lady put me back in the car and took me for a ride.  Oh, could it be. Yes, it is. It is my home!  Where is mommy?  I got out of the car and ran into her arms as fast as I could, we would never be separated ever again.  That night I got to sleep in bed next to my mommy.  It is my job to protect her and I would never leave her side again.  A couple of days later, mommy turned a strange white color.  I remember laying my head on her to make her feel better.  What it that rattling noise I was here?  Mommy must really be sick.  I stayed right with her being the faithful friend that I was.  A couple of days later a really nice girl came to visit us.  She worked really hard to make mommy feel better.  I was so excited when she took me for a walk.  Since mommy was sick, I had not taken many walks.  Wait, what are you doing?  This girl took me and put me in a really big car taking me far from my home.  They took me to a big house out in the country and chained me to a tree.  There was a little house attached to my chain that I slept in at night or in the rain.  I am afraid of the dark and they left me outside at night.  One day the youngest kid in the family decided to come and visit me.  Oh boy, company!  She started pulling my ears and it really hurt. I remembered that the last time someone hurt me I bit them and ended up going back home.  Chomp!  I got her good.  A man named Uncle Roger came and put me in his car.  Home home home.  Wait, what is this big blue house?  A grandma and grandpa walked out the front door and gave me a big hug.  This home was not my home, but it did not have any annoying kids.  For the rest of my life I missed my family, but grandma and grandpa always took great care of me. He always hugged me tight and told me that you did not want to leave me the way you did.  The day I died, grandpa wrapped me up in the blanket that grandma made for me. He walked out into the back yard and placed me in a nice big hole.  I noticed that grandma could not stop crying while grandpa placed the dirt on my limp body.  I am never alone in this hole, because grandma comes out to talk to me once in awhile.  She even planted a pretty flowering tree where grandpa buried me so that she could have a peaceful place to relax on a hot summer’s day.  Mommy, I never forgot you, and I really missed you.


We had our dog Murphy while the kids were going up.  When we moved to Europe we had to give him away.  I always wanted to take him with us, but we did not know where we would be living and had to leave him in the states.  To this day, Brian and I wish we would have handled finding a home for our faithful dog in a better way.  Sometimes lessons learned are very sad ones to look back on.