H-A-P-H-A-Z-A-R-D-L-Y

The longer I find myself working on this "bucket list" idea, the more I see just how "fluid" it sometimes has to become.  For instance, my #1 and #2 items on the list, power parachuting and canoeing down the Ark River, are nearly impossible to do at this point in time given the current weather and dry conditions here in Kansas.  I still want to do them someday and even though they are the top 2 on the list, I'm not going to wait around for circumstances to change before trying some of the other things I want to do. There are 7 additional good ideas just waiting for me to give them a chance.   Since I've already completed item #9, "to return to the spot where I saw the most beautiful sunrise in the world last year", there was a blank space  just waiting to be filled.  It didn't take me long to figure out which new one would take its place.  If it wouldn't have been for the fact that I visited the offices of the Kansas State Fair last week, just down the street from my home here in Hutchinson, I would never have even thought of "this" being a wish of mine.


Item #9-"To enter the 'Senior Spelling Bee' at the Kansas State Fair this year and PERHAPS  be at LEAST the fourth best speller."


Dear friends, I have to tell you this~As a kid growing up and attending grade school  in my hometown of Haven, Kansas there were a whole bunch of things that little "Peggy Scott" wasn't so good at.  Many of you already know of my status as one of the charter members (hey and if I remember correctly, I was the president in 5th grade)  for the "I Hate Math Club" at Haven Grade School.  I was horrible at math and to say the very least, after a couple of summer school sessions without my improving all that much, I think my wise teachers just accepted the fact that math wasn't going to be my "strong point", EVER.  Thank goodness in the years that followed, I began to catch on to it, little by little.  Even though I'd never be a medal-winning contestant in a "math olympiad" or anything,  at least I can "hold my own" now when it comes to all of those facts and figures.


 My ability, or better said "inability", with science was just as bad or perhaps even WORSE, if that could happen. As a little kid,  science seemed so horribly boring to me.  I could read with ease the science textbook but had little idea about how on earth it even related to me or why I should even care to know about it. When it came time to do that crazy experiment when the class all got in a circle and held hands together while someone else touched something that shocked the living daylights out of us all, I refused to do it.  I might have been a "slow learner" as far as science was concerned but HEY, I wasn't crazy!


 Oh yeah, and physical education.  Not only was I one of the smallest kids in the class with absolutely NO muscle power, I was just about the least coordinated one person you could imagine.  I have vivid memories of the one time in 4th grade PE class when I FINALLY managed to hit the softball that had been pitched to me.  My classmates were so used to me striking out each time that you can imagine their surprise the one day that I actually did hit that stupid thing!  It would have looked good for me with the exception of thing.  In my excitement, I took off for third base rather than first base and after everyone got done laughing about it, I was tagged out as I turned around and started to the right spot.  I would prefer to tell you that I was brave and "took it" in good sportsmanship, but I bawled like a 9-year old baby would all the way back to my side's dugout.  I never wanted to try THAT again!  I'm laughing to myself now as I type these words, but at the time it was not funny, believe you me.


For as awful as I felt I was in the subjects that so many others were dang good at, there WAS one thing that Peggy Scott could do that was better than most of the rest of my classmates~I could spell and the truth is, I could spell really well!  Every year in the early spring, the best spellers from Haven Grade School would travel to one of the other schools in our league (the Central Kansas Sunflower League) for the annual spelling contest.  It was a ritual of orthography and only the top three spellers from grades 3-8 were allowed to participate.  From third grade on, save only my fifth grade year, until I was out of grade school in the eighth grade, I was always one of the top 3 spellers.  Not getting to go that fifth grade year was a real "kick in the gut" for me.  I can remember going home and not telling my parents about it but it didn't take them long to figure out that I wasn't in my room crying because I didn't like what we were having for supper.  I was crying because I didn't get the chance to go and I gotta tell you, bad as it hurt, it was a good thing for me.  That next year onward, I became more and more determined that I would be the one to go.  The determination paid off and for the remaining years of my grade school experience, I went each year to the league contest and came back with blue ribbons.


My eighth grade year, I decided that I'd try something different.  I'd heard from listening to a couple of teachers, that there was going to be a contest for all of the kids from Reno County.  Whoever THAT winner was would advance to the state spelling bee in Topeka.  THAT lucky winner would just keep right on going to the national level in Washington, DC.  I was bound and determined to get to that Reno County Spelling bee and when the day came at Haven Grade School to take the qualifying test, I took it with all of the others.  The end result was that my score was the highest and off I went on that Saturday morning.  I'm sure I had "visions" of being the one that represented the Sunflower State in Washington D.C. in the spring.  I'd be shaking President Nixon's hand and posing for pictures in front of the White House, or something.  Hey, I was a kid~it COULD have happened you know?  LOL 


I will never forget that day.  My art teacher, Betty Jo Houchen, volunteered to take me that morning.  Mrs. Houchen was a sweet and dear lady who actually kind of took me "under her wing" that year.  She helped me in the days prior to the contest by pronouncing all kinds of words to me.  Sometimes I did great, sometimes, well not so much.  But I was as ready as I could be and so off to the Reno County Courthouse we went.  


I remember it as if it were yesterday or yeah, maybe the day before, when in all actuality it was more than 43 years ago now, 1969.  There were 14 kids in the basement of the court house just waiting for the words to be pronounced to us.  It was an oral test and in true spelling bee format, one after the other we received a word to spell.  Each round, a kid or two misspelled a word and then "bit the dust".  One by one that found themselves going out on a word and having to sit down in their chairs.  It was unnerving, to say the least.


By the time there were only 5 of us left standing, I was sure that I could go all the way to the final round, the last word to be pronounced.  I had never felt so confident in my abilities and I wondered what it would be like to head to Topeka for the state contest the following month.  My hopes and dreams of spelling success were soon to be shattered.  When it came to my turn to spell, I sat up straight in my chair and focused my eyes and attention on the person doing the pronouncing of the words.  And I listened.


"Haphazardly" the man pronounced to me.  "Haphazardly". 


 WHAT??  What had he just said?  I'd never heard of that word before and I found myself second guessing just what he had told me.  I cannot imagine the look on my face as I scrambled to think if I had ever heard or seen that word before.  It might as well have been from another language, and as I stop to think of it, it nearly was to me.  I remember asking for the definition, for it to be used in a sentence.  I'll never forget that part or what the pronouncer said.


"Haphazardly means to do something in a wreckless manner.  The person in the red car drove in a haphazardly manner.", the pronouncer explained.  ( By the way, right now I cannot remember where my cell phone charger is and I only had it an hour ago.  How on earth can I remember what was said to me that day so very long ago?)    After thinking long and hard, which really was probably  only about 30 seconds, I knew that I probably would miss it but at least I had to try.  So I began....


The letters came out of my mouth with about as much uncertainty and doubt as you could imagine. I had absolutely no clue whatsoever what I was doing and it definitely showed.  "H-A-P-H-A-Z-Z-A-R-D-L-Y" I said as firmly and clearly as I could.  There was such dead silence for a moment or two and the pronouncer said, "I'm sorry.  That's incorrect."  Man, I had missed it! And I took my seat, shaking my head at the fact that I got the "hap" correct but the "haz" incorrect.  A word that I had never heard before and NOW have never forgotten, made me Reno County's 5th best speller of 1969 and with that, my days in the spelling bee were finished.


Fast forward now, 43 years into the future.  This year, the 100th anniversary of the Kansas State Fair, promises to have some interesting and unique contests available for people to participate in.  Oh yeah, the traditional "growing of the grains", sewing projects, fresh fruits and vegetables, photography and a host of "other" contests are still in place.  But this year the fair has added something different, "The Senior Spelling Bee".  As I pre-entered my Morgan Horse Trophy awarded to my great-uncles and grandfather in the very first fair of 1912, I noticed the flyer advertising the upcoming spelling contest.  And my friends, it caught my interest.


Normally, when I see the letters "AARP" on correspondence that comes to my home or on commercials for television, I shudder and think, ok, I am not old enough for that stuff.  But on the spelling bee flyer, one of the first things I noticed was that the contest was being sponsored by them.  And you know what?  I didn't cringe when I saw it so I guess I must be "growing up" a little bit more than I thought I was.  While I was looking at the information about how to sign up for the spelling bee, my memories of being the 5th best speller of the county during my last ever spelling bee in 1969, came rushing to mind.  I began to quickly think to myself...could I do it?  Would I be brave enough to stand up, as a 56-year old teacher, in front of an audience of my peers and perhaps students in order to get a chance to finally beat my old record?  The answer was "yes" and before leaving the fairgrounds I went ahead to sign up for the September 13th contest.  Time will tell as to how I do.


For now, each evening I go to the website, "BigIQKids".  They have a great spelling practice tutorial specially geared up for adults who either wish to go to the Kansas State Fair Spelling Bee for 2012 or they just want to be a better speller.  Win-Win, either way as far as I am concerned.  As a teacher, I've got to admit that I've already missed my share of the practice words.  Dilemma not dilema, crick not crique, tariff not tarriff, and mackerel not mackeral.  I wish I could say that they are the only ones I missed but then that would be wrong.  But I am not giving up and when school starts in a couple of weeks, I'm going to find me a 6th grade buddy who would be willing to give me some extra practice after school.  Proof positive that teachers don't know everything, kids just think we do.


My eyelids are getting a little sleepy so before I end up making a mistake in spelling (and boy would that ever be embarrassing to me), I'm going to say good night.  Hoping and praying for rain for all of us who need it so badly and decent weather wherever the rest of you all are this evening. Take good care of yourselves and one another, please friends.  And by the way, if you are in Hutch on September 13th for the Kansas State Fair, please stop over at the Encampment Building on the Fairgrounds about 9:00 or so in the morning.  You'll recognize me right away...more than likely the shortest one there.  Oh yeah just one last thing~IF you should find any spelling mistakes in this blog post for tonight, how about we just say they were typing mistakes, OK?  Works for me!

Hey, I am also pretty decent at riding a bike...especially when I don't try to do any curb jumping.  

A reason for this~a part of the plan

Dear friends~I have always maintained that keeping this blog going was a form of therapy for me as I faced the challenges, trials, tribulations and sometimes sad times of life.  Having suffered with depression from time to time, I recognize quite easily the situations and feelings for me that are not healthy to keep inside.  Maybe you are like that too?  I used to be too afraid to admit it to people, but now I know that it's much healthier to acknowledge that certain things in life do get you down, rather than to continue to stuff them deep inside of you with little hope of feeling better.  I have taken medicine and sought counseling, but the greatest thing I have discovered in this world  to beat my "arch enemy", depression, is to sit at this keyboard and pound on these computer keys until I feel better.  I know that must sound weird to some but for me, it seems to work most every time.


I just said "see you in Tucson" to my son, Grahame Hemman.  He pulled out about 8:30 this morning heading west on 50 Highway towards a new life in the desert south west.  I knew the day was coming all along and as much as you try to prepare yourself for the last one of the kids to "leave the nest", it still isn't easy.  And you know, I talk a "big talk" and say that this is why we have children, because we want them to grow into adults and head out on their own into this world of ours.  But the truth is, sometimes you don't really want them to....sometimes, you just want them to stay little so you can protect them and keep them safe all the time.  What a crazy idea that is!  But I'm guilty of it perhaps just like many of you are.


Grahame surely did follow former Kansas governor, Bill Graves, business motto of "pack 'em high and tight!"  That little Honda Civic was packed and repacked about a dozen times in order that he could fit everything in there.  He took only what he deemed necessary to survive for the first few months.  Grahame's math and problem solving skills (not inherited from his mom), were put to use as he stowed away gear in every conceivable space available.  Truly there was no wasted space and certainly nothing was packed that wouldn't provide some useful purpose to him on this journey.  His adventure of walking a month on the Appalachian Trail last year helped to prepare him for this day.  I don't have anything to fear for him~he knows what he is doing and will make it just fine.


It was tough this morning to see him go.  About 15 minutes before I knew he would pull out, I had to head out into the backyard for a bit to "get my composure" together.  Didn't want to fall apart in front of him~oh yeah, that didn't work out so good.  As I came around to the front porch again, I pulled him close to me and gave him a hug and said "It's getting close to time, isn't it boy?"  And he loaded the last of his things up, secured his bike to the back of the car, hugged his beloved cat Oblio and was off.  Even through tears that say "I love you and will miss you son.", I rejoice in the fact that he is alive and well in this world.  And you know, really, I sent him off on behalf of all the folks whose children never got the chance to make it out the door and maybe, just maybe, their lives will be touched this day by children just like my Grahame.  I pray for that to happen, that he would be a blessing to not only me but to others in his life.  He'll be fine and guess what?  So will his mom...LOL


Time to get the day going...going to stay busy and hey, maybe even take a nap.  Oh yeah, and one other thing.  I got up so early this morning, wide awake at 3:30.  Decided not to toss and turn so after getting up, I drove out to Wal Mart to buy paper towels and toilet paper.  (I know, no life!)  It would have been just your ordinary, ho-hum, run of the mill trip to the store.  But God knew I was hurting inside already at the thought of Grahame's leaving today.  He provided~  


As I came around the frozen food aisle, I heard someone say, "Hey don't I know you?"  I turned around to look, and there sure enough, was a young man that I knew from many years ago.  It was little Jimmy, although it appears as though he's not so little anymore, towering over me by at least a foot or more.  He had been one of my first grade students, now 13 years ago when I first came to Hutch to teach.  Jimmy explained that he was working 3rd shift at Wal Mart and going to school at our local community college.  When I said I was shocked he remembered me, he told me that I looked just like I always did.  (which made me think, did I look THIS old now 13 years back?)  


We spoke only briefly, but in that 5 minute span of time, I reconnected with a young man who told me that I had made a difference in his life.  Wow, there's one of those "bonus checks" that I keep telling you teachers get from time to time.  And when I pulled away from the store and headed back towards home, I thanked God for the gift of seeing that young man once again and lifting part of the weight off of my heart this morning.


Tucson, Arizona~Grahame Hemman and his best friend in the world, Lindsay Maudlin, are heading your way.  You can expect good things from them both.  Their families love them very much....we thank you for taking good care of them for us.

Grahame, pausing a moment before taking out this morning.  Aunt Sherry, your little car will serve him well.  I know that I don't have to worry about him.  The same God that watches over him here in Hutchinson, Kansas surely knows where he is in Tucson, Arizona.  

Grahame and his friend Obie~Those two have had some GREAT times together!  At Christmas time, Oblio gets to join him in Arizona and live his "life of Riley" there.


  

one year~

Perhaps the shortest of blog posts to ever write~Tonight, as the 12-month mark of "old lefty's" confinement fast approaches, I remember all that I had to go through in the process of healing and the young man who stood by me and helped me all the way.  Godspeed your journey to a new life in Arizona tomorrow morning, Johann Runold Grahame Hemman.  I shall always remain indebted to you for sticking with it and never giving up on me, even though many times I was SO ready to throw in the towel!  Love you my son.

                   Me and "old lefty" in BIG trouble-August 5th, 2011 at the "scene of the crime".

                   "Look Ma, BOTH HANDS!"  Today, July 27, 2012, revisiting the "scene of the crime"~I've come a long, long ways!

Their time is nearly at hand~

Earlier this week, I wrote a blog post that I called "Tough love for a mother:101" and in it I described the "practice drill" that my son Grahame recently  put me through as I attempted to install a new printer for my computer.  Even though for the last 3 years or so, Grahame has taken care of all my "technology" related needs, he suggested that perhaps this time I should do it without him.  And while he smiled and remained relatively quiet throughout the whole ordeal, I struggled with understanding the direction booklet right from the "get go".  Finally at long last, I was able to figure the stupid thing out and in under an hour (surely a miracle in my books), the printer was up and running.  


All this week, Grahame has been sorting through his stuff, packing what is needed for his journey to move to the state of Arizona this coming weekend, and hauling to the basement that which he can find no use for right now.  And in between the packing of boxes and saying his "good byes" to old friends here, my son has been attempting to teach me everything I will need to know without him here any longer.  It's been an experience, to say the very least.


You know, I had never cooked on our propane powered grill before and friends we've had it for well over a year now.  It was always Grahame who fired it up, put the burgers and brats on and cleaned up the mess afterwards.  But on Tuesday night of this week, things took a turn~I had this strange feeling it would happen and once again, true to form, Grahame said that he thought I needed to learn how to run the grill on my own.  So in the summer of my 57th year, I turned on a propane tank for the very first time in my life.  And oh man, was that pathetically scary.  The vision of me somehow blowing up my part of the world, just because I (an inexperienced griller) dared to turn the dial on , flashed before my eyes.  But, hey, it didn't happen...now I know that's crazy and at this point in time, I am thinking that I'm more than likely the only person of my age in this whole entire United States of America who never had the experience before.  Well, I guess it can't be said of me now LOL.


Sometime within the next 36 hours, I STILL have to learn how to air up my bike tires correctly, run the weed eater and get the "hang" of using the two remote controls to run the tv. Tonight, sadly, we'll watch (for the last time for a while) together, "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report" on Comedy Central.  As usual, about the time that Jon Stewart interviews his special guest, my eyes will be closed in sleep and Grahame will gently remind me, "Mom are you awake?  The Daily Show is on."  And I know that is his endearing way of saying to me that it's time to get up and head to  bed.  Friends, how much I will miss that time in my day, and a lump in my throat as I write these words to you.  


Grahame is the last "to leave the nest" and although I always knew the day would come, it is still bittersweet in its arrival.  I survived my oldest son's (Ricky) leaving as well as their little sister, Ursela.  I am sure that my death certificate will not list the cause of death as "She died because the "nest" was empty."   Over time you just get used to it I suppose and after awhile it gets better. 


Many of you may be facing the same thing in the days and weeks ahead as children leave for college or the service, get married or find lives and jobs elsewhere.  With sadness in  my heart, I remember the many friends here on Facebook and elsewhere, whose children have died before they ever got to see Grahame's ripe old age of nearly 24.  Today as I've felt a little sad knowing that Saturday will arrive too quickly, I remember to thank God to have 3 children who are alive and well. 


Oh boy, Grahame just found the air pump so I gotta get out there on that porch and have a crash course in airing up bike tires correctly.  He has faith in me that I can do it, so I've got to show him that he's right.  His mom is quite capable of airing up a couple of Schwalbe bike tires.  Grahame knows it...I just gotta prove it to myself.  :)


Have a good evening out there Facebook family and friends...Love your families and friends, please take care of yourselves and one another.  Good Night!


  

                                   Two of the very best friends ever,
                                           Grahame and Lindsay
These two are heading your way Tucson, Arizona.  Take good care of them for us!

Grahame is one lucky kid.  Here he is with his "two mothers".  Linda, thanks for watching out for not only your Lindsay, but for my Grahame as well.  You know, it's not easy to raise kids alone...we surely need the help of one another.  For everything you did for him, I say a heartfelt word of thanks my dear friend.  :)

Well, I guess it won't hurt to give it a try~

For as many things as I wish to do before I "kick the bucket", there is an equally long list of things I would NEVER want to do.  In fact, not sure that all of the money in the world would make me change my mind.  See if you agree with me, if not on all,  then at LEAST on one or two of them....


The "top 5" things that Peggy Miller would NOT put on a bucket list~


1.  To parachute out of an airplane.
2.  To do karaoke anywhere.
3.  To pick up and handle a pet mouse or rat.
4.  To eat even ONE olive, black OR green.
5.  To touch a snake, for the very first time.


Hey friends, how about it~did I mention one or two that you would be able to concur with me on?  If so, then I already feel a bit better in knowing that I'm not the only soul who would refuse to jump out of a plane at anywhere from 3,000 to 13,000 feet and fall to the ground with only a small pack attached to my back.  I take solace in knowing that there must be some other  person out there who  would refuse to go onstage in front of everyone and "his brother" to  sing the latest song on the radio.  And even IF I was the only one who felt this way, I still would refuse to even attempt to put an olive in my mouth.  I break out in a cold sweat on THAT one!  As for mice and rats, well all you gotta do is take a look under my kitchen sink to find an arsenal of unopened mousetraps, just ready for the first sign of a "visitor" from the great outdoors just as soon as the cooler weather of fall arrives.  And THEN, there'd be snakes.....


My first vivid memory of those members of the reptilian family was when I was just a little girl, maybe 8 or 9 years old.  I grew up in a farming family and every summer one of those "rituals" of living in the country was the arrival and subsequent raising of little baby chicks.  Long, long before the days of UPS or FedEx deliveries, baby chickens arrived in a rectangular cardboard box that was generally delivered right to your mailbox out at the end of the driveway.  Don't know how it was done, but those 50-75 little cheepers would be alive and well in their cardboard home, just waiting for someone to come rescue them as their box hung by twine with the rest of the  mail.

That summer, those little guys were looking pretty cute to me, a soft-hearted child who was fascinated by how quickly they grew and changed.  We knew that sooner or later, most of them would be sacrificed as food for our family of 9 people in all.   But until that day, they were our pets and we loved them.  After spending the first week or two of their lives indoors down in the basement, they were moved outdoors to the chicken house to continue to finish their time before being butchered.


One summer afternoon, my little sister and I were outdoors playing when we decided to go see how our little "friends" were doing and the sight we saw that afternoon in June forever stayed in my mind.  As soon as we opened the door, there it was.  A huge bull snake that I'm sure looked (to our very wide eyes)  to be about 400 feet long with a body as big as a grown man's arm was around, systematically going after one baby chick, followed by the next unlucky one.  We were shocked to see the snake pop its jaws open and consume a feast of our little pets.  Not sure exactly how long that all lasted, but there was a lot of screaming going on, by chicks and girls alike.  Finally, oh I don't know, maybe an entire flock of little chickens later, a neighbour came over and killed the snake.  And that one moment in time shaped the way that I felt towards snakes forever to this day.


I have cringed at the thought of seeing a snake anywhere.  Occasionally as I ride the bike path, I will encounter one slithering across the road or sunning alongside it.  Generally speaking, the snake then owns the path and I wait.  And if I could balance my bike while standing upon the seat as it crosses by, then don't think for a moment that I would not.  They scare me that much.  


Every year for the past several years, I have made the stupidly unfortunate mistake of digging barehanded into my flower beds only to be amazingly surprised as I uncover and pull out a small snake.  For crying out loud, you'd think I would know better.  So that generally means that A), I throw it as far as I can hurl it while screaming blood curdling yells, or B) I go and grab the shovel and its days on earth are over quickly.  I cannot say it enough, snakes just scare me.  


Now enters into this story, my Facebook friend named Kyle Duncan.  He and I have never met one another but we became "friends" because of his acquaintance with my nieces Brandy Lackey and Mandy Dwyer.  They are all close to the same age and grew up in the same south western Oklahoma town of Altus.  Kyle surely seems like a nice guy, a motivator and inspirer for his Facebook friends, much the same way as my good friend, Dennis Ulrey is.  I figure in this world, a person can never have too many friends and I am glad to have Kyle as one of mine.  


Now in a little over a week or so, I'm going to make the trip down to Oklahoma City to meet Kyle and his family and oh, uhmmm, yeah~his snakes.  You see Kyle is one of those guys who loves snakes, so much that he breeds them for himself and others.  A couple of his "snake photos" are shown below.  Don't be afraid, only photos!  :)  LOL

I know what some of you reading this must be thinking.  Those of you who might be "snake haters" like me are probably saying to yourself, "She's nuts!  That's crazy!"  Believe me, a month ago I would never have had the desire to see a snake, this up close and personal.  I have always gone by the motto, "the only good snake is a dead snake".  I have a shovel with a sharp edge on it and I am NOT afraid to use it to chop up a snake to kingdom come and back again.


Yet, I've been reading Kyle's posts on Facebook for some time now in regards to his pastime of snake breeding.  He speaks with great pride of the many successful hatches that he has and from time to time will post photos of his very "colorful" baby reptiles.  And I cannot believe I am saying this, but somehow I have started to have the desire to learn more about them and maybe, JUST maybe, get rid of some of my ophidiophobia (hey, I didn't know what the word for snake phobia was either~I had to look it up.)  I figure there's no better place to start working on that than Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.  Kyle has graciously offered to "introduce" me to a few of his friends (and I'm NOT talkin' people here).  Kyle's "passion" for snakes has enlightened me to the fact that I may not be giving them credit they deserve and if nothing else, I'm hoping to "shed" part of the overwhelming fear I have of them.  As Kyle would be first to tell you, it's ok to have a healthy respect for snakes as you encounter them in nature but you really DON'T have to kill everyone that you see.  They have a place here and help to keep the "balance of nature" in check.  


Not going to be bringing one back in my backpack to keep as a pet and actually probably will feel an accomplishment if I can just bear to touch one without cringing.  For me, just allowing myself to be in a room with so many of what I have always considered to be "the enemy" will be a miracle.  But I am going there to learn more about them and with Kyle's help and a little luck, I hope to come back a slightly different person. Hey, and who knows?  Maybe I'll be brave enough to actually hold one.  Wait and see!


See you in a week or so Kyle Duncan!  It will be a pleasure to meet you and your family and interesting to meet your "extended" family.  Thanks for believing that I can do it!


A quote about ignorance~wish I knew who said it but I don't have a name to attribute it to.....


"The greatest ignorance is to reject something that you know nothing about."  

For what it is worth my friends.......

Just in case you don't believe in angels....

You know I waited for a "couple of three days" to write this blog entry~didn't want anyone to get all excited or anything.  But I kind of/sort of had a proverbial "close call" on my bike ride last Saturday morning.  It was an attention getter, to be sure and as near as I have come since last August 4th to wrecking my bike.  And by the way, lest you think I was attempting some type of "Evil Kneivel" stunt again....put your mind at ease.  That was not the case nor, God willing, will it EVER be again.  I was riding safely, helmet atop my head down the quiet (although maybe I should say NOT so quiet) streets near my school, Lincoln Elementary.


I had left very early that morning in order to beat the unrelenting heat of our Kansas summer time weather.  By 6 a.m., I was out the door and well on my way to the path that I have set out for my daily 10 mile ride.  Ok, I guess you can say I'm predictable.  I know, from many times of riding it, that on even an "average" riding day I can make it to the South Hutch McDonald's and back home again in well under 45 minutes. Saturday was no exception.  


As I turned to head back north again and to my home in the middle part of town, it felt good to be back on my bike.  Ever since my accident last August and the 9 months I spent recuperating from "old lefty's" broken arm, I have been determined to return to biking, a pastime that I truly find enjoyable.  The nice little south breeze blew me back towards E. 14th Street again.  


As I came over the Frank Hart Crossing, the bridge that connects the two cities of South Hutchinson and Hutchinson, I took a slight detour off the usual route.  I was close to my school and thought I'd just ride by to see if any of the kids were out playing on the playground.  The decision to do so, provided the impetus needed for my "close call".  Little did I know what was about to happen as  I rode my bike back home.


At the corner of Maple and East Avenue F Streets it happened.  From out of ABSOLUTELY  NOWHERE a huge black Rottweiler dog came charging at me from behind.  I had not seen him until that absolute split second.  He was big, strong, powerful and VERY fast.  And it took me about one second to figure out that he wasn't racing after me because he missed seeing me on the playground for noon recess duty.  THAT dog was aggressively coming after me, snarling and growling all the way.  It was not a good moment in time, believe me.


Now I've been chased by dogs before, mostly on the bike trail and country roads.  For the most part, harmless incidents where a dog just wants the rider to know that they are getting awfully close to the dog's territory.  The dog, whatever kind it might be~big or little~would chase me for a few yards and then go back home.  I can handle that, it's part of the "hazard" of riding bikes.  But THIS time, THIS dog, was different.  I have never been so frightened of an animal in my life.  


For what felt like an hour, but in retrospect was only maybe 30 seconds, that stupid dog (and I'm REALLY cleaning up my language here as I describe it~I'm trying to work hard on that character defect of mine) kept up with me and successfully stayed by my left leg, within striking distance of my left calve.  With a voice that I only find in situations like this, I yelled at it to get back, go home.  It was all to no avail because that dog was determined that he and I were going to have a discussion and it was gonna be very soon.


And so that's where the angel part comes in and even if you don't happen to believe in them (and that's ok), I do so believe.  Equally out of nowhere, in my bike's mirror I saw an older model van coming up from behind.  And what they ended up doing, I am positive saved me from getting hurt very badly once again. At first I thought the dog must have belonged to the people in the van.  Then I realized that wasn't the case.


 The driver rolled their window down, yelled at the dog and even opened up their doors to try to get its attention away from me.  And it worked!  I started pedaling even faster than I was until I was sure that I had gotten a safe enough distance away.  I looked back to see the dog running off towards the south again and the van turning the opposite direction and leaving the scene.  They came up behind me and gave me a "thumbs up" in the mirror as they passed.  I never got the chance to say thank you to them, but the smile and relieved look on my face must have told them that I was grateful.  


When I got home, I parked my bike on the porch and sat down on the front steps and thought about what had just occurred.  How many times in my life have things like that happened to me?  How many times have they happened to you or someone you loved?  Ok, here's the "Peggy Miller" version of angels.  I've been rescued, so very many times in this life of mine, from a lot of heartache, worry, hurt, and concern by angels.  My belief is this~that van driver was an angel, put in the right place and the right time to save my "sorry behind".  God knew exactly what to do, as always.  With a grateful heart, I do so give thanks.  


As I sat on the porch steps I realized just how close I came to being hurt once again.  When that animal was chasing me, I was not even aware of whether or not cars were coming at me or if  there were stop signs or traffic lights in the immediate area.  It was me and that dog-NOTHING more.  And the closer you get to finding out what it is like to being bitten by a dog, the less you are aware of your surroundings and just how fast you are pedaling on two wheels.


I went back later on to see if I could figure out which yard he might have been from.  After a couple of passes through that area, I gave up hoping to find him.  A call to "animal control" was made just to report the incident but nothing else could be done.  I'm a lover of animals~growing up as a Kansas farm girl I was used to dogs of all kinds being around.  But friends, I gotta say this~that dog had better hope that he and I don't cross paths again.  Because the next time I will be in a car, not on a bike.  This is a good time for me to say "thank you" very much to all of the responsible dog/cat owners out there.  Thank you all for making sure that your animals are contained in the yard and aren't allowed to roam at will.  I appreciate the fact that they are your beloved pets...hey we ALL need them. That's all I want to say~feel free to "read in" to the rest of the message.  


Getting ready to start the day now, sun is thinking about rising.  I'm heading out on the bike soon but probably won't be taking any detours today, LOL.  For every single time in my nearly 57 years of being that an angel, one on Earth or one from Heaven above, has come to rescue me~Lord I give thanks.  May the same be for you all, my dearest of friends, this good Tuesday morning.  


I am EVER more determined to keep riding my bike than I would ever be afraid of a Rottweiler.  I think I'm gonna like today, Tuesday the 24th of July, 2012...one of the greatest of days to be alive!

                                          August of 2011~ "Been there, done that." 
                                                  NEVER going back again!

"TOUGH LOVE FOR A MOTHER:101"

A week from today, next Saturday morning, the house here on East 14th Street will feel a little bit empty, kind of lonely.  My middle child, 23-year old Grahame, will be heading out to move to the south western part of the U.S., starting a new life in Tucson, Arizona.  And when he goes, a piece of my heart will go with him.  Even though I will miss him, I am happy for him to be able to move to Arizona and see what life is like there, over 18 hours away from us here in south central Kansas.  


Grahame has been like my "right hand" for the past several years.  He was the one who had to witness me (his stupidly daredevil mother) trying the infamous "curb jumping attempt" on my bike last summer.  Thank God, truly, that he was coming out of the house just as I was crashing in the front yard.  It was Grahame who had to haul to my "sorry behind" to the emergency room while I held "old lefty" with my right hand and talked "like a sailor" all the way to the hospital.  My choice of language was not the best that day and it's a good thing that Grahame didn't just kick me out along the way!  In the weeks and months that followed, he fixed meals, tied my shoes, helped me to type my blog, tucked me into bed, picked up on the house, encouraged me when I was "down" and congratulated me when small successes came my way.  In the 8 months that followed, I was able to recuperate and gain strength back because of his willingness to help me.  For that, my dear son, I say "thank you."


As the days have grown closer to his departure, I have begun to realize just how much I have counted on him to do things for me here at home.  Believe it or not, with a mom only 5 feet tall, Grahame is an entire foot taller than I am.  His long arms reach effortlessly to take down things that I can only think of attempting by using a ladder, and a tall ladder at that.  So when lightbulbs have gone out or I need something from the highest kitchen cupboard shelf and a host of other things, it was Grahame that always came to my rescue. Yet even with all of the help he has given me with those things, there is something even more crucial and ok, I gotta embarrassingly say it, that I've had to ask his help with.  Ok, here goes (gulp)~I would be the very first to admit it to you friends, I understand little about technology.  THERE, so I said it and in doing so, I can just imagine some of you reading this blog post saying, "I'm with you there sister.  Been there, done that and still doing that.."  Whew, and if so, if you are shaking your head in agreement with my plight of being "techno illiterate", then I thank you my friends for helping me to understand I am certainly not alone in this.  There are many of us in the same "proverbial" boat and it has been Grahame who rescued me from sinking in it many a time.


Geesch people,  from using the remote controls for the cable tv set up, to understanding the different programs on my cell phone~ from knowing how to reset the computer on my bike correctly to being able to install any program necessary to my laptop computer, Grahame has managed to do it all for me.  It's been that way forever, and I must admit to the fact that I liked it that way.  It was easier for me, the job got done much quicker and that's just the way it was, the way it always has been.  So on Friday, when I went to Wal Mart to purchase a new scanner/printer for use at home, I had just planned to have Grahame install it for me, however that isn't exactly the way it all happened.


When I got from the store, printer box in hand, I said to Grahame, "You know, maybe I oughta try setting this up by myself for a change, since sooner or later, you'll be gone and I can't ask you to help me."  I waited for a moment for him to say "Nah, Mom.  I'll get it."   Instead, he looked at me with a grin that I have seen many times in his life and said, "Yes, I think that's a good idea."  Oh great, now what had I gotten myself into?  


So for the better part of what seemed to be the next 8 hours, although in reality it was only about 45 minutes, Grahame's mom got a crash course in "tough love for a mother 101".  For crying out loud friends, I could not even get the dang tape off of the box to open it up without his help.  And after that bit of assistance, it was all mine to do.  Now, mind you I'm very impatient and most of the time if faced with a chore like that, I just want to rip the box open and empty out what's inside. I like to skip over the first step, "the reading directions" part, because it just takes too dang much time for me.  I like the "maybe this will work" plan although 99.9% of the time, that plan just plain sucks.  So it was no surprise, I'm sure to Grahame, to hear me yell out within the first couple of minutes..."this is so hard son".  


His response, more times than not, whenever I came up with a question about where on earth something was to go, was "Mom, what the directions say to do?"  After about the 3rd time of him saying that, I came out of my bedroom and shot him a glance in the living room that was kind of a combination between a huge smile and a "mean mom" look. I figured out what was happening...in other words, I realized that I was getting a lesson in tough love and it wasn't very fun. 


I stuck with it, making mistake, after mistake, after mistake, until shortly before an hour was up, I had the stupid thing installed.  Grahame only had to suggest to me twice that I might want to consider getting myself a "cussing jar" to remind me to clean up my language.  I regret my choice of words sometimes as I face life's many frustrations and I continue to work on making it better.  Please bear with me as I do so try :)


Now, I must say that Grahame didn't let me flounder through that set up process because he wanted to be mean or hateful.  He did it because he knew that if I continued to let others do stuff like that for me, that I would NEVER learn on my own.  Grahame knew the time would come very soon that he wouldn't be around to do it for me any longer and it was high time for me to figure it out on my own.  He told me all along that I could do it~he had faith in his mom.  The end result was, he WAS correct.  I was very capable of doing it on my own.  All it took was patience and the ability to do something that I'm always reminding my students to do....READ THE DIRECTIONS.


Before he goes this upcoming weekend, he and I are going to have a little "crash course" in doing a lot of things around here that I've taken for granted being done by someone else for way too long.  I AM going to figure out how to turn that TV/cable box on with the remote, learn how to air up my tires on my bike, master the "art" of weed eating, and find out where all the tools are that we have here at home.  I have no doubt that Grahame will be more than willing to help me learn 'cause he's just that kind of son.  And friends, even when times in my life were not the best and things definitely were going "polar opposite" of the way I had planned, you needn't have ever worried about me.  Between Grahame, his brother Ricky, and his little sister Ursela, I have been well cared for and certainly well-loved by all 3.  And to have 3 children you love, well THAT my dear friends, is quite a blessing.


Have a good night's rest family and friends.  Tomorrow is a new day for all.

Grahame, in the spring of 2011, as he left for a journey walking along the Appalachian Trail.  

Well, we have them so they will grow up into adults one day.  It's just that the years seem to fly by so darn quickly.  I've said so many times, please mommas and daddies reading this....don't blink.  Enjoy the "little kid" phase for as a long as you can.