She left without her blankie

My sister Debbie came to visit -- I didn't take a single picture -- and arrived late on Sunday night. She and Jim (her husband) were dog tired when they got to our place, so we didn't really get a chance to talk much.

Debbie always brings her blankie and her small pillow when she comes here. I, too, carry a blankie and a pillow with me whenever I travel. I don't know where this blankie/pillow thing came from. I just know that I've been taking my own pillow with me since shortly after I was married when a pillow at the hotel where we stayed was worthless in the pillow department. So, I started carrying my own. The blankie bit -- I started doing that when we were going back and forth to Arkansas because I just never knew when I was going to have to be sleeping on a sofa in a waiting room.

I have to thank Lynn Jolly for a quillow she made especially for Alan when he first got sick. We took that to waiting rooms all over UAMS (University of Arkansas Medical Sciences Center) and actually wore it out. That quillow became the blankie, and the armrests of the various sofas were the pillows. Not exactly the most comfortable pillow in the world, but you make do with what you have.

Back to Debbie's blankie. Frankly, I didn't even realize she had brought it in from the car. But shortly after she left early this afternoon -- again not much chance for talking -- I got a phone call asking me if she had left her blankie and her pillow. I found it in the bedroom, right where she had put it.

I will box it up and send it off to her so that if she goes somewhere before I see her next month, she'll have her blankie and pillow.

This traveling with a blanket and pillow leads me to reminisce about the "old" days. We Drexlers didn't travel, so we had no need for blankies and pillows. In fact, the only places I had been were camp, camp, or camp, and one week in Ocean City with my cousin Alberta. I personally went to camp Haluwasa for a summer where I was both a camper and a cousellor. Mostly, I was a counsellor, but they had a teen age week, and I was a camper that week.

Before that I went to camp at Sandy Cove in Maryland for a week. I hated that week. I was 9 years old, and I was so very homesick. Also, my parents didn't know they were to give me some money for craft supplies and snacks. And that made my life even more miserable at camp.

And the final "camping" blow came when I was a junior at college and all of us in a teacher program of some sort had to go to Stokes State Forest -- and rough it for a week. I never understood how that experience would help me become a better teacher. I didn't understand the reason I had to do it, but do it I did. And after the deed was done, I really didn't understand why the week of torture was necessary nor how it improved my ability to teach mathematics to high school students. I still don't understand that. I learned nothing at all that week, except how to NOT keep warm in a cabin (well, four poles and roof) with no heat, and foraging for food in the winter. I didn't like it. But I did have a blankie and a pillow for comfort.

Enough rambling for today.

A note from my sister

Deb wrote: I really liked Authors. I wasn't a reader like you, but I knew all the authors' names because of that game. Speaking of Chinese checkers. Whenever we had dinner with Aunt Annie, either at our house or hers, between dinner and dessert she would play Chinese checkers with us kids. The reason I love that game so much and played it with my kids, was because Aunt Annie always got to giggling when we played. And if you remember once she started giggling, laughter followed and our sides hurt from laughing so long and so hard. I remember Aunt Annie loved to laugh, she and Markie together would have us in stitches.

My comment: This remark came about because of my reference to playing Chinese checkers with myself. I really don't think I played many games with Aunt Annie and the "little" kids. My selfish, superior, older self wouldn't allow that. At least I don't remember playing many games with her. But I do remember the laughter and I talked about that in one of my former BLOGs when daddy would take forever with his prayer at Thanksgiving dinner.

Deb also wrote: Mommy sure did keep a clean house when we were kids, I don't know how she did it with all of us, Church responsibilities, gardening, canning, cooking, etc. And she always had time for the LORD. She always found time to read her Bible and to spend time in prayer. Oh, to be more like Mommy.

My comment: She and I had been talking about how we used to clean before arthritis took hold and how we clean today. Notice the different in the type -- clean means really, really clean. Today clean (not bold) means it looks clean, but is it really? Fortunately, even though I have arthritis and have a difficult time walking. If I can get moving, I can bend over. I can still touch my palms to the floor, so cleaning a floor can be done with a bit of elbow grease. But my preference is Swiffer wet. I get the corners with a Mr. Clean eraser and around the commode with the eraser as well. I have a cleaning brush (usually used for cleaning the toilet) that I use exclusively for brushing around the pot and then wipe it up with a rag. Is that too much information?

Sis's visit

Well, Deb's visit to northern Kentucky is just about over -- boo, hoo! I'm sure gonna miss her. She's been such a blessing to have here and we've just been chatting up a storm and reminiscing about our childhood and young adulthood .

We both have three children, hers are a couple of years behind mine. She has two boys and a girl (now men and woman), I have two girls, and one boy (now women, and man). Duh!

We have enjoyed visiting with some of my grandchildren while she's been here. Today we celebrated my son's eldest's birthday -- Rosie -- she's eight! Time flies. Aunt Debbie was surrounded for the whole two hours we were at Rosie's house with her and her siblings. Aunt Debbie plays better than me-mom.

We started working on HER memory books of our family. Mine are mostly finished -- the picture editions, that is. This BLOG is another memory "book" of sorts of the Drexler/Sbaraglia/Hahn clan.

Her mind is not as old as mine and she remembers things better than I do. But I remembered something that she didn't remember -- or, as she put it -- never knew about therefore, couldn't be accused of forgetting.

We saw a dead cat in the road -- gross! -- on the way to Rosie's birthday party. Well, when I was a teenager, whenever you saw a dead animal in the road, the object was to say, "I one it." Then the next person had to say, "I two it." And so on. When you got to the number eight -- well, I'll let you complete the sentence. So, when I saw the dead cat, I said , "I one it." And I had her say "I two it." By the time I got to "I seven it." She got it !! She "eight" it. Ha, ha.

We talked about padoodles and how we looked for them when we were growing up, because the person who saw a padoodle first -- oh, yeah, a padoodle is a one-headlighted car or truck -- got to kiss his or her best beau.

And then there was the trick at the stop lights. If your car got stuck at a stop light, everyone in the car had to jump out, run around the car, and get back in before the light turned green. Fun!

And blue lights. Deb didn't know about them. They were lights on poles where the emergency phones were located, and if you saw a blue light first -- same as a padoodle -- you got to kiss your honey. We used all kinds of excuses to get to kiss each other. Kissing was a big deal in those days.

We talked about marriage, and weddings, and how thankful we are that we have such long-lasting marriages. And how we both wanted an early morning wedding so we could get on with our honeymoon. You see, in those days, we waited until the honeymoon to do more than kissing. So, can you understand why we liked kissing? Is that too much information? Sorry.

We talked about Uncle Joe Egitto and for those of you who don't know, he is still alive, he's 91, and he and I have talked to each other a couple of times in the last year. I've mentioned Uncle Joe. He, like my mom's brother, Joe, did things with us children that my father couldn't do because he was occupied being a pastor. Extended family things, I guess is how they would put it these days. God blessed me and my brothers and sister with great Aunts and Uncles who took pleasure in playing with us, and taking us places that without their taking us, we would never have gotten to go.

Anyway, we've had a wonderful, blessed time. And I'm so thankful to Jim, Deb's husband who has given her this time to be with me, and helping me with Alan these past few days. Thanks Jim! And Thanks, Deb!

I love my sister!

Here's a recent picture of Deb. She's still beautiful and really has changed little since we were in our early 20s.

She called me today. I love it when she does that. She always cheers me up. No matter what I'm doing, I drop everything just to gab. I didn't recognize her voice when I picked up the phone today, and I thought maybe it was one of those real sweet talkin' telemarketers, and I was about to hang up, as is my custom whenever a telemarketer calls. I know, I'm on the "Do Not Call" list, but that doesn't stop them. Well, what a nice surprise to hear it was my dear, sweet sister, Deb (I call her Drex -- an abbreviated form of our maiden name and a habit I picked up in high school).

As I talked about in a previous post, my sister and I are really enjoying our latter years -- I guess some wisdom is received as one ages, at least in the area of relationships.

I remember one time, when my children were in their teens, we were on our way home from Myrtle Beach and decided to stop in and see Deb and her family -- unannounced! Well, she greeted us with such exuberance, like we had made her year. That impressed me so much. If it had been me, I probably would have locked the doors and pretended I wasn't home -- I'm not big on surprises, even good ones.

My dad used to do that. If some family member decided to drop in on our family, he quickly pull all the shades and pretend no one was home. Of course, it never occurred to him, I supposed, that the visitors had SEEN him pull the shades, and could hear the shushing in the background. Or was it just a joke? We'll never know. You couldn't tell with daddy.

I figured out how to see what I wanted on TV, though. I just told daddy I didn't want to watch something, and that was what he was determined to watch. Do I think he knew that I knew what was going on, and that I knew how to manipulate him? Yeah, I do. It was a game.

Anyway, today I wanted to tell everyone who reads this, that I LOVE MY SISTER!

My dear sister

I always wanted to have a relationship with my sister like my mother had with her sister, Anne. My mother and Aunt Annie were inseparable from the time they were very young girls. Not so with me and my sister. But the separateness was not Debbie's fault. I take full blame for that.

I was three years older than she, and felt far superior to a "little kid." But we lived in the same house, shared the same room and bed for most of our pre-marriage life, and had separate lives. She had her friends, I had mine.

Now days I don't know what I'd do without my sister's encouragement and prayer. And as she lives a good distance from me, we don't see each other much, BUT we do communicate at least once a week via e-mail or phone.

Growing up we shared a room, as I mentioned. Cleaning was a problem for me. I hated cleaning my room, or my part of it. My drawers were a mess, the half of the bureau that was mine was a mess, and my side of the room was always a mess. The floor was linoleum so dust bunnies were a way of life. Deb, bless her heart, was a good cleaner and duster. I couldn't have cared less. So, she'd clean her half of the room, her half of the dirt under the bed, her half of the bureau, her half of the floor under her side of the bureau, and she'd clean down the steps.

As far as cleaning went, I had better things to do. I had to read. I had to practice the piano. I had to pretend I was a teacher and my brothers were my students. I had to play with my dolls. See? Much more important things than cleaning the floor. Oh, yeah, she made her half of the bed, I couldn't care less about that either. What a source of frustration for her.

THE BED we shared is the same one in the picture above which is now shared by my granddaughters, Grace and Annie. That bed was part of the bedroom set my father's mother and father got when they got married in 1906. So it is an official antique, now. And it has withstood all those years. After my sister and I got finished using it, my husband and I used that bed, then when my husband and I expanded in size and no longer fit into that bed, my daughter used the bed. When Alan and I moved to our retirement home, the whole set-- bed, bureau with beveled mirror, and vanity/desk -- moved into my daughter's home. I have to wonder how much longer it will last. My dad liked to point out how well it was made, and that it was curly maple -- does that mean something? It's being made of curly maple, that is?

I was so often jealous of my sister because she was so cute, and when she became a teenager she got pretty. She didn't go through the big-nose stage, which I did. She didn't go through the big-lips stage, which I did. And she always had beautifully combed, stylish hair. And no matter how new my clothing was it always looked blah on me. She could wear rags and look stylish (like my mother). And she stayed thin, even after three children. She's still a beautiful woman at age...no I won't tell how old she is now. Let's just say she's three years old than I, and her bones are beginning to creak!

Deb also did things I would never do, which I won't mention here so as not to embarrass her. Let's just say, she turned out okay, in fact, she's great, and a spiritual mentor for me. I thank God daily for her, and for the prayers she says for me and mine. I love you sister!