Laughter, Love and ice cream

   In preparation for recording my Children's Sermon for Sundays online Worship, I dug my Dad's old binoculars out of the closet. I opened the case and......I was transported. As impossible as it sounds, they still smell like him. Leather, and office goods - a hint of English Leather cologne and Cigar. I have left them out on my desk, so I can pick them up and breathe deep. More than once during this Sheltering at home, I have thought about Dad and the summer of 1973. We were deep in the midst of the Gas Crisis - and then Dad lost his job. My Mother, like many Mothers of the day did not work outside of the home, So there was no. income. Due to the bills from my Mom's illness, my folks didn't have much in the way of savings. (I knew this because my worst character trait as a child is that I was a MASTER eavesdropper! I am happy to report I have outgrown that particular characteristic - there are some things I would just rather not know/ignorance is bliss - also, I can no longer fit between the sofa and the wall) My Grandparents sent my Parents money each month of Dad's unemployment. Included in that amount was "treat money"(Information that was also gathered in the "behind the sofa" maneuver.) The manner in which that money was spent is one of my favorite childhood memories.....we went to Mayberrys a couple of times a week and got one scoop of ice cream each. We would go to the park, or sit on our front porch and eat ice cream, tell stories and laugh. All these years later, I am convinced that this is what got us through that difficult time. When I think of those days, I remember laughter, and love and ice cream. I am certain that there were many tense moments - but they are not my primary memories.
   In our current hunkering down, I have tried to be mindful. In the midst of the worry and tears, anxiety and fears, I have tried to find and supply fodder for memories that in far flung days will bring a smile....that will be starch for the backbone and balm for the soul. Which is how I find myself covered in flour. This morning, I woke up with my Grandma Florence on my mind. Short in stature and long on homespun wisdom, she was a force of nature and a baker extraordinaire. She would sit me in the kitchen on the red foldy three step stool, and teach me her ways. Her chocolate cupcakes were my favorite, and the stuff dreams were made of. (She was famous for her Chocolate Cake, but I preferred the cupcake version - so she would make them, just for me) As she gathered her ingredients, she would teach. "Sister" she would say," Always use the Nestles Cocoa - not the Hersheys". (Now, the best part of this is that she pronounced it Nes-els Coe Coe ah.) (And yes....that is what I still call it)  "Sister, always sift that flour and cocoa" (Did you say it? Coe Coe ah!) "Sister, you need to even up that cup of flour with the flat of the knife", "Sister, clean as you go".  I still do not clean as I go, and Grandma would be horrified to see that today I am baking in my old grey and pink nightgown in the middle of the day (Because "Sister, always wash (warsh) and get dressed as soon as you get out of the bed"). But I evened up the cup with the flat of the knife, and I sifted the flour and cocoa. I greased and floured the cupcake pans, and even licked the beaters. The cupcakes are cooling, and soon I will make the thick, dark, chocolatey frosting.
  There have been nights around our new firepit - built by the Kennedy menfolk. Early mornings in the den drinking coffee snuggled under blankets. 6:30 suppers where the 5 of us gather around the table and laugh and debate politics and the current state of affairs, (Not so much of a debate - we are all on the same side) share memories of days gone by and laugh some more. Movie night with popcorn, made on the stove top Whirly Pop. One on one deep discussions and Group sessions as well. And sourdough bread. And Brussel sprout salad. John's amazingly delicious Guacamole, and Cilantro lime Black beans and rice. Food, stories, laughter and love.....plenty of fodder to deposit in the bank of future memory.

 

Nothing...and everything.

   As a child, my favorite place to be was on a swing...I could swing for what seemed like hours at a time. My favorite Childhood poem? The Swing by Robert Lewis Stevenson...."How do you like to go up in a swing, up in the air so blue. Oh I do think it's the pleasantest thing, ever a child can do...."
   I never outgrew my love for a swing, and if I see one, you better believe I will be on it, and you will be hard pressed to get me to leave it. I passed that love of swing on to my children. When we moved to our current house, the kids had mostly outgrown our big play set, but they requested we build a frame for a couple of swings. In a fortuitous turn, the only flat place suitable for a swing in our back yard lined up perfectly with the window over the sink in the kitchen. I can't count the times that I have looked up from that sink over the years and spied one of my children swinging..or wished that they were.....
   Tonight, as I was doing the dishes after supper, I looked out the window, and there, swinging, was my Grown up Boy, talking to one of his friends on the phone. The feet were bigger, the legs longer, but he still pumps those legs with the same form from his childhood. My breath strangled in my throat, and gratitude filled me up. This time we find ourselves in, this season of our lives - is uncharted, frightening...horrible in most every way. But dear Lord, I give thanks that we are all together. John, Baby girl, Babiest girl, Grown up boy and me. Our house buzzes with life, and even in these dark times, celebration. Today we found out that Grown up Boy (also formerly known as College Boy, Peace Corps Boy and most recently Mongolia Man) will become, in August, Ivy League Boy - as he pursues his Masters in International Agriculture and Rural Development at Cornell. Also in August, Baby Girl will graduate from College, followed by Babiest Girl in December. Kennedy paths will diverge exponentially. These weeks that have and will continue to take so much from us, have given me the greatest gift. Time. Time with my family. Time to laugh around a table. Time to swing. Time to plant a garden. Time to try new recipes and tell old stories.Time to do nothing....together. Which is everything.