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.  

A Letter From Owego~

The mail on this dry, hot summer day in mid-July was much the same as it always is.  Two pieces of junk mail, the city bill, the cable bill, and an offer for someone to come from the local funeral home and talk to me about pre-paid funeral plans (lol, too late on THAT one...five steps ahead of you, already taken care of).  It would have been your ordinary "run of the mill" mail call save for one envelope with the postmark "Owego, NY".  My face lit up immediately 'cause I knew exactly what it was about.  Someone had received a "flat person" and was writing to tell me about it.  Guess I owe you guys an explanation of sorts, so here goes.


Back in late-May, just as soon as school was out, I took off on a one-person journey by car to the state of Maine.  It was a "bucket list" wish of mine to go there to see my very first lighthouse.  And when I was able to accomplish that on May 30, 2012, I could FINALLY check off the number one thing on my list.  But Cape Elizabeth, Maine wasn't the ONLY place I was looking forward to seeing.  There was also this little village in southern New York state that I was going to visit for the very first time~Owego, Tioga County, New York.


Back in late February, as I was planning my journey and mapping out my daily destinations and resting places for the night, Owego looked like the logical place to stop for the 3rd day out from Kansas.  I had remembered reading online about Owego last fall when a CNN news story told  about the devastating flooding they had endured during the month of September when the banks of the Susquehanna River overflowed and inundated not only Owego but other places as well.  The village of Owego suffered major damage to many of its homes and businesses.  A photo from September 9th of last year showed the extent of the flood waters in Owego's business district.

Yet even as Owego flooded, the people stuck together in the kind of fashion that you would only expect from folks who were living there, digging out from the water and the mud, beginning their lives over once again.  By late December, they were starting to return to a small sense of normalcy and by mid-May when I called about reservations for a place to stay, they were back to "business as usual".  


I wanted to take something along with me as a gift for the children of Owego but I didn't know what would really be appropriate.  As I was explaining my trip plans to the students in one of my classes at Lincoln Elementary here in Hutch as well as telling them about the flood in Tioga County, one of the kids asked a very good question.


"Did the floods take away the library books Mrs. Miller?  Do the kids have books to read?", one asked me.  


Well, one thing led to another and before I knew it I had made a call to the Coburn Free Library in Owego to ask just that question.  The librarian told me that the damage in the library had been limited to the collection in the basement, but "yes" they would be glad for the offering of some new children's books.  So, tucked into my backpacks were a dozen or so copies of books that some of my students here in Kansas helped me to pick out.  Oh and yes, the flat people.


I enlisted the help of a dear friend, and colleague at Lincoln Elementary where I teach here in Hutchinson, to have her students make "mini-replicas" of themselves, otherwise known as "flat people". (thanks to my good friend and their teacher, Pat Lillard)  I would pack the 15 "pretend" kids into my back packs as well and take them along to New York with me. Once there, they would in turn be given to people who patronized the library along with a letter with my name and address in case they would choose to write us back and their very own Kansas postcard.  Our hope was to make new friends and somehow in some very small way to let the people of Owego, especially the children, know that 2,000 miles away, far out in the middle of the United States, there were school kids in the town of Hutchinson, Kansas who had compassion for them and wanted them to know that they cared.  


With all of the other things that have happened for me this summer, I kind of had forgotten about the chance to hear back from people if they should "adopt" one of the "flat people" that  I  had left with the librarians that rainy evening, now nearly 2 months ago.  Receiving the letter in today's mail lifted my tired spirits and made me very happy to be able to know that someone was a recipient of the children's act of kindness.


It was a sweet letter, handwritten on front and back and tucked neatly into a pretty envelope.  The woman writing it sent such kind words in her message.  She plans to use her "flat person" as a bookmark in one of the many books she has been reading lately.  She said something else that made me pause a moment and think about the power that one person has to make a difference in the life of another.  


Her words.....I am so grateful for my wonderful bookmark.  I could go out and buy a book mark (as I usually have at least 4 books in the works at a time), because I am a very avid reader, but THIS one is very special.  Every time I open my book, I will remember you wonderful and thoughtful children.  I even looked up on the map to see where Hutchinson, Kansas was located.  Be happy that you have such  good and caring teachers and remember that Owego, New York highly appreciates you.  


All it took to make a difference in the life of this woman from Owego was a small piece of white construction paper, some crayolas and scissors, and the imagination of a 7-year old kid.  That's all~One small child made this woman's day.  As a teacher, I cannot count the times when I have spoken with students about how their individual actions, good OR bad, can affect others.  And although the number "one" doesn't seem to have a whole lot of power on its own it can most certainly do SOMETHING in respect to another.  The little second-grader whose "flat person" the letter's writer received, made an  impact upon this woman's life and as far as I'm concerned gives new credence to the idea of "the power of ONE".  


Friends, for whatever it is worth, (maybe not much LOL) this is my opinion.  As I enter my 35th year of being a teacher, I want to reiterate something that I say over, and over, and yet over again.  The very best lessons that a teacher can teach their students will absolutely NEVER be found in our lesson plans or the teacher's guide for the day.  All of us, teachers and parents alike, need to be teaching our children the value, the merit of being good citizens, of learning how to care for others in this world, especially those here in our own country.  Knowing how to be kind and considerate of others will take these young people a long ways in their futures. Not to minimize the obvious importance, the crucial need, to be able to read, write, do math or understand science and social studies, being shown by example how to be decent and thoughtful human beings should be equally as important.  


It will be fun to get back to Lincoln in about another month and find the young person whose flat person was picked up by the woman who wrote the letter.  You can rest assured, that little kid will be tickled to find out about it.  Wow, I just thought of something...in this day of email and text messaging, I may have to explain what a letter is!  


My gratitude goes out to a new friend from Owego, NY.  She thanks us for the kindness but perhaps it should be us thanking her for the lesson we learned.  Have a great Friday everyone!

Linda received "flat Scarlett"~the real Scarlett is shown above during the last days of school.

"Flat Kimberly" and I on that very rainy May evening at the Coburn Free Library.

It's a beautiful place with lots of folks who are proud of their community.  Some day I shall return there to see it once more.

UPON BEING IN THIS DROUGHT

I fell in love with the story, "Sarah, Plain and Tall" after reading it to my 2nd graders once in school.  In the book, a widowed Kansas farmer (Jacob) writes off to a newspaper back East to advertise for a wife to help him raise his two little children, Caleb and Anna.  The advertisement is answered by a woman living in Maine, Sarah Wheaton.  She agrees to come the more than 2,000 miles to meet them all and see if she can "make a difference".  So on that day in the early 1900's, she boards the train to leave and life was never the same again.


If you have never read the book and the two sequels that followed, I hate to tell the whole story.  As a teacher (ok, sorry but I had to say that), I encourage you to turn off the TV, stop texting, stay away from Facebook for a bit, and pick up a book and it might as well be THIS one.  But I will say that despite the odds against them, Sarah and Jacob fall in love and marry.  Thank goodness that the book's author (Patricia MacLachlan) didn't stop with just the one story.  In the one that followed next, the story became even more memorable and its story line is one that reminds me of times that we are starting to see right here in the middle of the U.S. and for that matter, seems like everywhere!


"Skylark", the second book, finds Kansas in the midst of very dry drought-like conditions.  Everywhere things are drying up and Jacob's farmland is no different than anyone else's.  The family and many others make daily treks to the only source of water available, a creek that is slowly but surely drying up.  When the creek can finally give water no more, Jacob has to make a hard decision.  And that has to be sending Sarah and the children back to Maine to live with her "old-maid" aunts until times get better.  A box or two of kleenix would definitely be a good thing to have around if you are an old softie like me when you read this part or watch the movie on TV.  


A few days before they have to leave, little 8-year old Caleb thinks of one "last-ditch" effort that could possibly bring the rain that would spare the family much heartache.  He gets an empty glass from the kitchen cupboard and puts it outside atop the fence post, thinking sure that somehow, some way, the rain will come to them.


Well, Sarah and the children leave for Maine and Jacob stays behind.  It was a lonely time and existence for them all.  Nothing improved and people began to move away.  Just when it appeared as though absolutely everything was lost, Jacob heard it.  The first clap of real thunder and then the thud, thud, thud of the heaven's opening up and the rain falling down.  Little Caleb's glass filled to the brim and life was restored to them all once again.


Now friends, Caleb's offering of an empty glass in exchange for rain was not one of those "magic, magic" moments.  It wasn't going to be like he could barter to the "gods of rain" for an inch or two of life saving moisture.  That empty glass represented a little boy's "faith" and hope that somehow or another, God would provide for them.  He knew, as most kids are very good at, that you should never give up hope.  That notion was good 100 years ago and it remains so today in 2012.


The graphic that covered the front page of the Hutchinson News a couple of days ago, painted a pretty grim picture.  The U.S. Dept. of Agriculture has declared 82 Kansas counties as "drought disasters".  66 of those counties are called "primary disasters" and my home county, Reno, is one of them.  And it's not just us folks, it's all over the place.  As bad as it seems here in South  Central Kansas, there are so many others suffering greater than we are.  And we all wonder, "when is the rain going to come?"


So this morning when I arose, I thought of Caleb and that story, one that has certainly a great impact upon my life (and my car's odometer registers an "extra" 4,000 miles because of it) and decided to make my "stand".  The photo below shows my plan for this day.  

I could have chosen a narrow-mouthed pint canning jar, but what the heck?  I believe that God will sooner or later send us enough that a wide-mouthed quart jar will be more in order.  There's plenty of other ways to symbolize it~leave your car windows down, spend $10 at an "all-purpose" car wash, do a rain dance...whatever!  But just don't quit believing and don't quit praying that the moisture that we so desperately need will come to us all.  And in the  meantime, perhaps there a good lesson in this for each of us to be learning.


Have a great day you guys~stay as cool as you can, keep hydrated for crying out loud, and take care of yourselves and one another.  And as my very favorite TV personality of all times, Red Green, so often says..."Keep your stick on the ice.  We're all in this together."

DAY'S END

I ended today, July 16th, 2012 the very same way that I ended the day on July 16th, 2011~I chased the sunset.  And I let the clothes go unfolded, the trash yet to be taken out, the carpet in desperate need of a vaccuum, and if I don't clean out Obie's litter box pretty soon she may be forced to seek a better place to live (LOL).  Oh yeah, sure hope that the plants in the backyard will forgive me for not watering them today.  But really, none of those things mattered to me.  I wanted to see the sun go down here at home in south central Kansas.  Friends, I was able to do just that and I don't think I've had more fun on a Monday night than I've had tonight.  Grateful for even these, the littlest of things.


Just for tonight, I forgot about a huge part of the nation facing drought conditions and the partisan bickering of the presidential race of 2012.  Yes, I know the country of Syria is involved in a civil war and that Penn State football will never be the same.  And the paper goes on and on of the troubles and trials we are facing in our lives today.  Yet for tonight, I chose to find the sunset and take pictures of it, marvelling all the while at how on earth God could have thought to make all these things around us.  And you know what?  It felt kinda good to concentrate on something way more uplifting~ like living life!


So for what it's worth...this has been a pretty great day.  Things didn't go 100 percent like I wish they would have but I think 99 percent is pretty dang close.  I had some fun and learned about myself along the way.  I don't think you could ask for anything more in this life.  I'm pretty much set.  


Good Night to you all my dear and wonderful friends and family.  #9 is officially crossed off the list~and since I didn't have to jump any curbs to do it, I think I will be ok.  

The sun goes down behind the trees of a Reno County farmstead tonight.

The sun as it is setting over a farmer's field of corn, south of Hutchinson on Broadacres Road tonight.

The sun sets in the western sky tonight, giving off its last glows of the day.

Checkin' off #9

In the early "before dawn" hours this morning, I drug my tired carcass out of bed in preparation for fulfilling Bucket List Item #9-"to return to the very same place, on the very same date, and the very same time where I witnessed the most beautiful sunrise on planet  Earth last year and perhaps be able to see another one again.  Unlike my trip to Maine for Bucket List Item #1, this journey of a few miles was not nearly as expensive.  All it cost me was an hour's worth of sleep and $2 worth of gas in my Honda Civic.  I considered it an investment that pales in comparison to the nearly $750 it took to see my very first lighthouse on May 31st.  

This was a planned occasion for me on what is the first anniversary of seeing what I have considered to be definitely the "most beautiful sunrise on Earth".  As I said back then and many have said before and since, "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder".  Just because I thought it was the best sunrise EVER doesn't mean that you haven't seen another one that was  even better than mine.  All I know for sure is that on that day in 2011, I felt blessed beyond measure and I guess that's all I want to say about that.

I headed out the door about 5:40 this morning in anticipation of arriving at the "spot" at about 6:00.  I ended up being stopped by a train (never a good omen) and wandering through the construction zone maze that now greets visitors to the "Salt City" as they come in from the east and west on Highway 50 or traffic coming from the south on Yoder Road.  I couldn't believe everything that had been done out there, how much change there was.  Obviously Peggy Miller doesn't get out near enough these days.  

Sure enough, a couple of minutes before 6 a.m. I arrived where Eales Road intersects with Yoder Road, the exact place where I needed to turn.  I wanted to be sure to go to the very same spot as last July and I knew that I could find it without any trouble.  Once I found it, I just put the car in "park" and decided to wait it out.  

It's amazing to me how the sky changes its color in the moments before the sun truly rises in the sky.  God's "crayola box" is filled with some of the most majestic blues, reds, yellows, oranges and purples that a person could ever imagine.  I decided, what the heck...I was going to just start taking photos before that "yellow orb" even began to rise in the sky.  It was beautiful and looked like the photos below.

Although I was surely enjoying the beautiful pre-sunrise sky, something just didn't seem quite right.  It was a weird feeling, like maybe something was missing from it all.  In fact for a time, the sky became rather "ho-hum" like, well that was IT?  I began to feel like perhaps I was in the wrong spot.  After all, last year this seemed to be perfect and now this year...

So at the very last minute, I made the choice.  If I WAS in the wrong spot, then I either needed to move forward or "put her" in reverse.  What was it going to be?  What ever the decision, I need to dang sure hurry the heck up?  So at 6:21, just a few moments before the sun did indeed rise in eastern sky of Kansas, I made up my mind and moved forward.  The end result was the photo shown below.  And although perhaps it wouldn't qualify as the most beautiful sunrise that I have ever seen, I do believe that it was the sunrise that God had in mind for to see today.  

The Monday morning sunrise over my part of the great state of Kansas.  I have no idea how I even got that photo.  I just pointed and "shot" and this is the one I came up with.  But at LEAST I came up with one.

Without going into details, may I just say that I came away with a different kind of perspective on parts of my life this morning?  I went out there into the country, believing that things would be just like they were a year ago and I'd be coming home with a photo that looked like last year.  And when I realized that would not be the case, for a moment I felt sad.  It seemed too much like the way my life has gone at times (LOL) and OUCH, that kind of stung!

I learned something else too.  It's ok to do something once on a bucket list but doing it twice?  Nah, it'll never be the same as the first time.  But at least there once WAS a first time, and to borrow the words of Sammy Johns' "Chevy Van" song,  "And that's all right with me."

Well, I'm outta here soon friends!  Heading out to see if I can "catch" the sun going down.  Plenty of great vantage points, just outside of town for me to watch from.  One of my friends asked me earlier why I wanted to see both sunrise and sunset...and my answer to them was, "How on Earth can you see one, yet not the other?"  Now THAT would just be wrong friends! 

Have a great Monday evening all and one of these mornings, roll out of bed and check out the sunrise.  It's a cool thing to see!  Love to each of you!

Wondering if the door is open~

Hey, a very good "early" Monday morning to all of you friends and family alike.  It's 4:35 in the a.m. as I type this blog post to you.  I had to be sure to get up and STAY up today because it's soon to be time for me to cross off another thing from the "Miller Bucket List"....to redo something from last year that proved to be one of the most memorable experiences in my life...."To see the most beautiful sunrise in all the world."  I did just that, one year ago today on July 16th, 2011.

The following is a reprint of what I wrote that day on my blog post and after I read it this morning, I wanted to reprint it once again.

FROM MY BLOG POST OF ONE YEAR AGO TODAY, JULY 16, 2011~IT WAS CALLED "LESSON LEARNED".


As far as I'm concerned, the "Miller Bucket List" taught me a very valuable today about life and its brevity.  Item #5, "To see the most beautiful sunrise and sunset in the world" is now COMPLETE.  Take a look at sunset, over my  hometown of Haven, Kansas this evening.

Someone asked me one time, how would I know that I had ACTUALLY seen the most beautiful ones? My reply to them was, "I'll just know."  Well today, July 16, 2011, I saw them and they were every bit as beautiful as I imagined them to be.

The saying "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder", pertains to most anything, sunrises and sunsets included.  You might look at my two photos and say, "Nah, those aren't the best.  The best ones can be seen at _____________________   (fill in the blank with your own special spot of the world),  But for Peggy Miller, these two will long be remembered by me as the most special ones I've ever seen.

Hey, here's where the "valuable lesson" part comes in.  I cannot remember one day in my 55 plus years of living that I have paid attention to and actually waited for the sun to come up and then set down again in the evening.  But today I did and the time went by so quickly.

I went to swimming lessons, complained about how hot it was, spent time with a special friend, continued to complain about how hot it was, the did laundry and cleaned house, and made a trip to Haven.....and a dozen of other little things.  And the world kept turning and life just went on.  I had to wonder as I was driving over to Haven tonight, did I spend this day doing what I should have been doing?  My answer came back "yes".  If the truth were known, I don't think I could always have said that.

As I was leaving Haven, I didin't realize just how fast the sun would sink in the west.  I had to hurry to get any kind of shot before it was too late.  And man, isn't that how life is?  That's why I am so frantically and diligently working on this whole list of things to do before I die.  I don't want to miss out on my chance.  And friends, I don't want you to miss out either.

So what was the lesson learned?  The answer is this~For the first time that I can remember, I didn't take everything for granted that came my way today.  I recognized it as the "gift" that it is.  All of us are given just "so" many minutes between the sun's arrival and it's departure each day.  It's a reminder to me to live my life accordingly.

Witha  very thankful heart, I say that today, July 16, 2011 was a "great day to be alive in".  I hope you had such a day as I did.  Have a good night's sleep Facebook friends and family.  Be ready for the next great day...it's coming up before you even know it!

The way the sun looked one year ago today on July 16, 2011 as it came up over the horizon between Hutchinson and Yoder. Today on the first anniversary of witnessing such a magnificent thing,  I'm heading there this morning, very soon, to see if I can find it once again.  I guess there's a 50-50 chance I'll be able to see one like that again.  And my friends, I've lived parts of my life with worse odds than that and am still here to tell about it today.  Have a great Monday, July 16th, in the year 2012.  And whether I see that kind of sunrise in an hour or so or not, it will still remain the greatest of days to be alive!  I know I say that a lot yet rest assured that it is EXACTLY as I see it :)

Upon being a waitress at Scott's Cafe.....

Yesterday seemed to be one of those nostalgic days in which events from the past kept surfacing in my thoughts all day long.  One of the main things I thought about, for some crazy reason, was about the times that I worked for my parents in our restaurant in Haven, KS.  The longer I thought of it, the more I realized just how important that time had really been to a young Kansas farm girl who may have lived in the country but spent many daylight hours working in town.  


In the early evening hours last night, I posted a message to my Facebook page, asking those friends who had ever worked for my parents to post a memory of their times so doing.  I knew that there were close to 20 of my friends who had been employed at one time or another at Scott's Cafe and I even knew there were a few that I might have forgotten.  By this morning, many of them had left a post of the things they remembered about working there and it truly did my heart much good to be able to read them.  Some of the things were well-remembered by me while others have gotten "lost" in the passage of time.  Those "return messages" were a real gift to me and I thank the friends who wrote back for blessing me with their words.


Here's a question for you my friends.  What kind of things did you guys do to make money in the summer time?  Maybe you were like me and found yourself waiting tables or washing dishes.  I bet a few of you mowed "the heck" out of lawns all summer long or were some of the best baby sitters around.  If you were lucky, then you didn't have to work outside in the summer time heat.  For the unlucky ones, well I guess you guys got the best tan of all.  :)  What ever kind of job you might have done, I'm guessing that it gave you the work ethic that you carry with you today.  If you were like me, it prepared you for the years that would lie ahead in the future.  You know, THOSE years that would be even rougher times than that of a 16-year old dragging their "tired behind" out of bed at 5:30 in the morning?  That "rite of passage"of  holding down a summer job, was one of those things that we did back when I was a teenager growing up and what teenagers still do this day.


I was lucky~I didn't have to go out to look for a job or go through the application process. When your parents or family members own a business, then at least for us, it was a pretty good bet that we kids would be doing some kind of labor for them and doing it at an early age.  My birth certificate should have had written on it...."Will be working for parents, long hours and sometimes every day, for all of her growing up years."  LOL  Although I thought it would kill me at times, I actually survived and thrived because of the experience.


My parents were able to employ a good handful of young women each and every summer, who were either in high school or going to college.  They were great employers but they had some pretty stringent stipulations if you were going to work for them.  Long before the day when "anything went" as far as workplace attire today, waitresses wore either uniforms, dresses, or skirts.  And I'm telling you, employees needn't have even bothered showing up in a skirt that was too short or asking if you could wear pants or jeans to work.  LOL, I can still hear my mom on that one! Girls with long hair ( I was one of them) had to always have it pulled back into a pony tail.  I can remember always either braiding my waist length hair or pulling it back behind my head with a bandana.  And oh yeah, lest I forget....chewing gum or eating food and drinking pop behind the counter could guarantee a pretty strict lecture from my mom.  Smart people, those who wanted to keep their jobs, figured that out pretty early on.  It was a lot easier that way, believe me.  On my parents' behalf, they would have done ANYTHING for their employees~they valued them that much.


It was interesting to read the memories that my Facebook friends had of working at Scott's Cafe.  My dear friend Joyce, remembered how her parents also owned a cafe in Haven but she came to work for my parents, even though we were competitors.  She fondly remembered my little niece Kimberly who, because of severe physical disabilities, had to be cared for by my mom and dad.  Joyce and many other workers there spoiled that little girl to pieces as she spent her days in a crib in her own special room at the cafe. 


Kathy, who worked every summer between her years of attending KU, recalled the crazy time that she,  my sister Sherry, and I took turns cooking our own "special" meals just for fun as we worked the 2-10 shift together.  Oh yeah, I definitely remember the time that the charcoal grill filled the restaurant with smoke Kathy.  Was that a fire department call or not?  :) Patsy remembered wrapping silverware and learning how to cook an egg any one of a thousand different ways.  And Patsy, you are are right...My dad would have taken care of THAT guy for you...And you know what?  Bob Kelly would have done the same thing for Peggy Scott.  Men like our fathers would have meant business!  :) 


Tracy remembered peeling french fries and doing just a variety of things that were required of a person working there.  Oh yes, Tracy I DO remember how that place filled up after church.  It was always one of our busiest times of the week~a place where Baptists, Lutherans, Methodists, Church of Christ and Catholics could all sit side-by-side and enjoy some good conversations.  By the way, Lori, I remember those BIG tippers too!  Only by today's standards, the tips were quite different.  I was always glad to find a quarter or two under anyone's plate.  Sometimes you had to "run your legs off" to get it, but in the end it was worth it.  Coming home with $5 worth of tips could take you a long ways as a teenager back in the 1970's.  I felt rich~little did I know or even care.


Ah Jolene, thanks for mentioning that my dad called you "Speedy".  I knew that and had forgotten all about it.  What a nice memory and it seemed like for just a moment in time today, he was standing right here beside me as I read it.  And by the way, you WERE speedy girl!  Wow, you think YOU had trouble filling up ketchup and mustard dispensers from those great big gallon containers?  You should have seen the mess I usually made.  By the way, you are right.  I can remember some wonderful conversations with you as we worked together.  Knowing you, as well as all of the others, helped to shape my future and mold me into the person that I was to become in this life.  I thank you for that my friend.


Carolyn, I LOVE your idea about a reunion of the "Scott's Cafe girls"~For real, if the Harvey Girls could do it, then why NOT us?  The stories we could tell about those good times....and some day my friend, would you please make a coconut cream pie so I can remember the taste of my mom's?  She'd sure be happy to know that you are carrying on the tradition today, now over 30 years later.  


Catherine, my dear friend in Iowa and fellow "Reno County farmgirl"....the remembrance of Mom giving you an apron because you didn't have one was special to me.  Sounds just like her to do something like that.  I think your family was much like mine Catherine~hard working parents who wanted to instill that same virtue in their children.


And for my sisters Sherry and Cindy~well you guys remember much the same as me.  The customers that came in day after day, the crazily busy times when it seemed like you could never keep up~and the dishes piling up to be washed and the tickets on the spindle growing higher and higher.  For as tired as I was at the end of every shift, for each time that it seemed as though I was working all the time and my friends were dragging Main in Hutch and having fun, fun, fun, I give thanks for having grown up that way.  In retrospect, every single thing that happened to me during the 11 year span of time during which my parents owned the cafe, was the "prep course" for the life that was to follow for me.  John and Lois Scott knew that the best way to keep their own 7 kids out of trouble was to keep them working, and THAT meant working hard and a LOT!"  


To those "kids" who worked for them in that small Reno County Kansas town, they knew the same would be true for you too.  They really considered you all "one of their own."  In my hometown of Haven, Kansas all kids were raised by the entire town.  I can't think of any better way to grow up.  How about you?  Have a good Sunday evening my friends, one and all.  No matter what, never forget from whence you came.  It's that important!

Wish I had a better photo...but now that I look at this one, I can't even imagine why someone took it anyways!  The infamous "spindle"...a whole lot of orders got stabbed on there from the front to the kitchen.  If I had a dollar for every time I stabbed my hand on that thing, I could be writing this blog from the Jamaican Islands or something.  

The "original" Scott's Cafe sign that for several years sat atop the restaurant.  It was unearthed from the interior walls of someone's garage in Haven and found its way back to the hands of our family in November of 2011.  Definitely has a place in the "over my dead body" pile.  


Ahem, and lest I forget....Dennis Ulrey, about that outhouse being burned in the parking lot that you don't know (yeah right) anything about....well, I am positive that all of you boys were home finishing up Mr. Peitsch's algebra assignments and were heading straight to bed after laying out your school clothes for the next morning when that happened.  Where DO these rumors start?  :)