Family
It’s that time of year when the area ski hills are in full operation. Yes, even in 2020 skiers and boarders can still get their shred on.
Growing up we had several traditions that we did every year. Well, some of our traditions didn’t start out as such, they evolved into traditions over time.
My sister Anita, 93, was born in 1927 and came to Canada in 1938 ….she’s old enough to be my mother, I know, but I set her straight on that a couple decades ago!!
My son asked me if we could turn the power off again “like that one time”. I was in the middle of making dinner, laundry stuffed in both the washer and dryer and every person in the house engaged in some screen related activity.
Christmas was always special when I was a kid. My folks were both creative, my mother with her sewing and my father always had a project on down in his basement woodworking shop.
Older generations are our link to the past, and they have helped raise us to be the people we are today. So, we owe it to them to ensure that their needs are met, both inside and outside of their homes.
I love gingerbread playdough because it smells so nice and it also doesn’t leave your hands nearly as dry as ordinary playdough, and it’s easy to make.
As my family of 4 traversed across the country from Eastern WA through Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and Kentucky we were on a mission ultimately to the beach, but first we had a stop to make in East Tennessee, the place where I spent half my life.
The last few years of my father’s life were tough. His physical health was in decline, his mental health increasingly faltered. He died in February.
When I was a kid I didn’t consider what it meant to be a dad. My parents were divorced and my early years included visits to my dad’s house every other weekend, holidays and summer vacation.
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