Cobblestone Bob

It is almost February 2, Groundhog Day and I'm very sure that Cobblestone Bob will not even open one eye, much less actually come out of his burrow. He is a true hibernator and once he "taps out" for the season, he will not emerge until his body is ready. It will not be ready this GHD ! This is our Bob's third season of life on the farm. I so miss him while he's sleeping, but I mark the front of the burrow to determine when he does actually come out to see us. I'll have a large bowl of peas and grits waiting for him.

Pickleball Junkie?

April 5th, is the beginning of softball season and I'm not in shape. I have been trying to get rid of what I call, "Dad passed away/Mother's in the nursing home stress weight", and at the same time get my arm in shape to play 3rd base. Not ready to panic yet, I have embarked on a new adventure in sports with the purchase of a pickleball racquet or perhaps it is really a paddle.

Since I have now played twice, I'm hooked. This funny tennis-like, badmitton-like,
racquetball-like, ping pong-like game is something that anyone can play and enjoy.
Whether you are 50 or 80 years young, you can learn this game, I think.

Convinced by a couple of ladies on our "Over 50" softball team, I thought I'd show up see what all the hype was about. It cost $3.00 to drop-in and play at the local church gym. It is always fun to meet new people and everyone was so very helpful to the newbie. After several minutes of instruction I was paired with one of the older gentlemen and we began hitting the baseball size whiffleball over the net in preparation for our match.

Easy, so I thought, until the other team proceeded to clean our clock. This is a sport of finesse. As I watched these players guide the ball with ease incorporating spin and some english, I was reminded of the story of the old bull and his triumph over the inexperienced youngster in the pasture as he went after the cows.

After two hours of play, I realized that pickleball is something that will get the old arm in shape and perhaps the bootie too! I'll keep you posted on my new addiction.

Mother is 93 !

On January 7, 2010, my Mother celebrated her 93rd birthday. The eldest daughter of Frank and Martha Rewold, Mother was born at their home on Griggs Street in Rochester.
In her early youth, they moved to a new home on Ludlow Street, which backs up to Avon Park and the Paint Creek River. Mother spent her school days in Rochester, where she graduated in 1934 from the old Rochester High School on Fifth Street (University Drive).

Her Father, Frank Rewold, was a general contractor and Mother was his bookeeper from the time she was in high school until she was in her 60's. He was the founder of Frank Rewold & Son General Contractors. Mother also worked at Meadowbrook Farm as the switchboard operator and secretary to Mrs. Matilda Dodge Wilson during the mid 30's.

Mother and Dad met at school and were childhood sweethearts. Dad often recalled lacing Mother's ice skates at the mill pond. He loved my Mother from that day until the day he passed.

I never thought that Mother would be in a rehab/nursing facility, but she is safe and I am not having my heart jumping out of my chest every time the telephone rings!
I always felt sad when Dad would call me crying and telling me that Mother had fallen. He would cry because he just wasn't strong enough with his bad knee, to lift Mother himself. He was always glad his daughter was strong!

A vivid Kodak moment was when Dad called crying that Mother had fallen and when I arrived to help, I found them sitting on the floor holding hands. Now, I had two old folks to pick up...priceless memory!

Counting Down to Groundhog Day

Each day I check the area of Bob's borrow in great anticipation of Groundhog Day, Feb 2nd. I know that he won't really be out that day, but I can tell you he has been pretty darned accurate with his forecast of the weather this winter.

He went into hibernation a little over a week early this fall, which is probably a good indicator of a cold or long winter. I sure do miss the little guy.

3 STOOGES MARATHON

Yes...I'm going to ring in the New Year with the 3 Stooges!!!! This beats the heck out of those singers and variety acts of years past. I'm ready!!! Nuk, nuk, nuk...Niagra Falls...slowly I turn, step by step, inch by inch....

Merry Christmas

It's safe to say, I'm not really in the spirit of Christmas this year, since it will be my first Christmas without Dad. He was always fun during the holiday. The tradition of chocolate covered cherries and something for him to wear will certainly be missed.
Here it is Christmas Eve and I'm having to work real hard to even turn on the small battery powered tree which sits in the kitchen window. I need to get over this feeling real fast.

O.K.

We are truly blessed with our health, our freedom and our faith in God. There...now I feel much better. God Bless our troops who are spending their Christmas away from their families to keep us safe.

Happy 93, Dad

Today would have been my Dad's 93rd birthday. Sadly, he didn't quite make it, but we ate some of those chocolate covered, liquid filled cherries in his honor. As far back as I can remember, Dad always got a box of those for his birthday and another box for Christmas. I guess we will continue this fine family tradition.
Sure miss you Dad.

Thinking about Dad today, I remembered one of his stories he told from his tour in Italy during WWII. He drove truck and carried ammunition to the front lines. Since he was a truck driver, he had access to gasoline, which he shared with an Italian man named Leo. During the war, the Nazis took vehicles from the locals and every other thing they could get, as well. So, Leo placed his car in the basement of his home, blocking it into the basement where it couldn't be found. He had barrels in the basement where he would store fuel, when he could find it. He and Dad struck up a friendship and despite the language barrier, talking with their hands (which if you stereotype, Italians do talk with hand gestures) Dad was able to supply Leo with "extra" gasoline he didn't need.

As a result of this friendship and international good will, Leo made a wood carving of a blacksmith and gave it to my Dad. He carried that carving back home to the U.S. as a cherished reminder of his friend, Leo. I have that statue now and it means so much to me to know what effort Dad went to in order to pass this on.

I plan to give this to a museum in Rochester Hills one day along with Dad's medals as a part of the skiing exhibit. I don't want my Dad's things to end up on Ebay!