Summer Days of the Free Birds

What a fun time of year! Spring has definitely sprung in our neck of the woods. The grass is growing like a weed – well, you know what I mean… I’ve cut it at least three or four times already! The temperatures are hovering around 80 degrees (although last weekend was 50 - it is Wisconsin, after all…) It’s been fun on Facebook lately with people posting pictures of their kids’ last school band and choir concerts, their end-of-the-year field trip photos, their children’s pending graduation plans… All of these signs point toward one thing – the end of the school year is nearing and summer vacation is about to kick off!

I ask you with all seriousness – where in the world do the years go? I suppose that the mere fact that I’m asking the question points to the obvious - I’m getting old. Certainly, when you’re going through the daily ups and downs of child rearing and raising you know exactly where the year is and the speed at which it’s moving. But since I’m no longer participating in the daily tutelage of youngsters, I’ve begun to marvel at exactly how quickly the clock moves forward.

So as I reflect back, I can’t help but smile when I think about some “last day of school” occasions of our own. Of course my kids began their final countdowns on May1st. “Only six weeks of school left, but not counting weekends or Memorial Day, that only leaves…” and they calculated the precise amount of days remaining until the very last day. There was always such an energy that surrounded this time of the year.

In the late 90’s when my own two kids (Megan and Tony) were about 8 and 11, 9 and 12, etc. we had some great times. I owned an older model LeBaron convertible – a robin’s egg blue color body, with a black top. As the final bell rang at 3:25, I’d pick them up, load all of their “stuff” from the school year into the trunk, and we’d drive around with the car top down. “Can I interest anyone in an ice-cream cone to celebrate?” I’d ask, knowing full well I’d have two takers for ice-cream in no time. And just like the old Lynyrd Skynyrd tune, I’d tell the kids we were now “Free Birds,” ready to enjoy the summer any way we chose.

Back then I had a small side business. I finished my jobs early in the day so that I could often clear the afternoons for fun. We put a lot of miles on that old car. I purchased passes for the local pool and frequently took them swimming; we picnicked with friends and swam at beaches; we saw movies (The Sand Lot, Rocket Man); went to Summerfest (during the day because nights got kinda adult crazy); signed them up for baseball and cheered at most of their games… It was the time before they worked part-time jobs and before they had significant others… “Old days, good times I remember. Fun days, filled with simple pleasures…” (Song by ‘Chicago’) I’m not going to lie – by the time late August rolled around, I usually felt ready for school to begin, but by then we’d shared lots of fun summertime adventures.

Of course part-time jobs did start – in fact, Todd and I insisted on it as a part of life. And ‘significant others’ did join the mix – in fact, it’s normal and right for that too. Sometimes we included the others in on our family time, sometimes we did things alone; but those pure summer days of the Free Birds became fewer and farther between.

And I think that’s okay. Each stage of life has had its time and place. As I mentioned in my book (Five Fingers, Ten Toes) there were days as a young mother that I actually wished my time away. I’m not particularly proud of myself for that admission, but it is true. Then there were years, like I described earlier, that were full of fun. The kids were at delightful ages, full of good conversations and lots of laughs.

Eventually they grew up and went off to college and got married – and all of that was normal - right.

Now Todd and I are boaters, and we try to get away on our boat a few times every summer. We enjoy good food, a cocktail (or two) from time to time, and adult conversations that don’t revolve around baseball or swimming (as fun as those topics were!).

Do I miss ‘the good old days?’ Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. These days I’m actually trying to concentrate on living a bit more in the here and now…

But if I dare to dream about the future – well - who even KNOWS how we might be spending our summers down the road???  (Or with WHOM for that matter???  I better just focus on takin’ it day by day for now.)

But I’ll say this - I do hope that when Megan and Tony think back to their childhood, that they fondly remember me and the summers we spent as “Free Birds.”

Katie Kolberg Memmel is the author of the book, “Five Fingers, Ten Toes – A Mother’s Story of Raising a Child Born With a Limb Difference.” For more information, go to her website at www.katiekolbergmemmel.com 

 

My Memorial Day Memories

So if you had to take a guess, how many different ways have you celebrated Memorial Day? I find that when I try to answer that question, I have to say there are many different ways I’ve celebrated – some, however, proved more memorable than others…

When I was young, my parents purchased land and built a small cottage “up north” in central Wisconsin. If my dad had the time off from work, we used the Memorial Day weekend to (in their words) “open up the place” for the short summer season. I’d get excited to go, as most kids do, hoping to be able to swim, swim, swim… but swimming in May in Wisconsin is a very rare occurrence. For example, this year, there was still ice on the lake less than a month ago, so…  (Yikes! That’s cold!)

If Dad had to work one of the days, then a backyard in-town barbecue became an option. Sometimes we’d invite a few people over and my parents would actually grill out. My dad wasn’t big on grilling – with a perfectly good stove in the kitchen, he didn’t see the attraction to charcoal, lighter fluid, or why that method was so preferred. But once in a while he indulged us.

As I got a little older, and joined my high school’s band and choir organizations, we actively participated in early Monday morning civic celebrations. I remember standing ‘at attention’ in my band uniform in a local cemetery, readying to play taps or another patriotic anthem for our hometown veterans. When I was a senior, a particularly memorable year, our choir sang the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” It was somber, moving, beautiful – for that moment; but I hate to admit that at 15, 16, 17 years of age, I more-than-likely was eagerly anticipating the afternoon’s promised picnic in the park - complete with a water balloon fight; or the Milwaukee Brewers game and cook-out that awaited, pulling at my all-too-short teenage attention span.

As young marrieds, my husband (Todd) and I usually cashed in on the three-day holiday weekend to work in our yard, go to a blockbuster film, grill brats, or (not that this brought me much joy, but) golfed. However, when I reached my late 20’s, I dug deep into my closet, dusted off my old trumpet, brushed up on my rusty musical skills, and joined an area civic band. On Memorial Day, the band volunteered their time to entertain parade-goers at the end of a local parade route. I found myself viewing the experience much differently than I had as a teen. I watched closely as some of the veterans saluted, witnessed tears in their eyes and on their cheeks, and knew our music meant something deep – deeper than I’d ever realized ten years before.

In the mid-90’s, Todd and I bought a boat, and for many years we used the weekend to get out of town – making sure our vessel was in tip-top mechanical and running order for summer. But then, once our children joined their own high school marching band, everything changed again. Our city’s Memorial Day parade was considered ‘required’ for band membership. So we found ourselves back in the civic mode, cheering on the band as they marched past us on Main Street, as they played versions of  Sousa’s “Stars and Stripes Forever,” and “America the Beautiful.”  By May of 2001, at the age of 40, I was now the one who was crying.

What am I trying to say here? What does Memorial Day really mean to me?

Technically, it is a day set aside to remember those who died while serving our country; but the day has also become a time for remembering all who have passed. Last October (2012), Todd and I had the privilege of visiting the battlefields of Gettysburg. Looking out over that vast area, listening to the Civil War history, picturing all that happened there, the blood that was shed - makes everything more stark – much more real for me; reflecting back on national disasters - some man-made and man-implemented (9/11, the Boston Marathon bombings) – some naturally disastrous (hurricanes, floods, tornadoes); And closer to home - the more I’ve talked with my own dad (presently 90 years old) through the years; the more stories I’ve listened to him tell about his time spent fighting in World War II; the fact that my mom passed away and now lies in a local cemetery; a friend who lost her grandchild way too early; all these experiences have deepened my overall respect and appreciation for observances of Memorial Day.

It is a coveted three-day weekend for many. I can’t deny that we love that aspect for kicking off our summer. We have shopped, gone to movies, grilled burgers and brats, golfed and boated…  

But, for me, as I now reflect back on Memorial Days past, what stands out the most in my mind, are all of the years of civic-centered and personally reflective celebrations. When I participated all those years ago, it seemed to be for others’ memories, for others’ reflections, maybe even for others’ enjoyment. But thank God I went through the motions then, because all those experiences have become my own personal memories now… very special memories… and it looks like the memories last a lifetime…

Here’s hoping you have a blessed and memorable Memorial Day – however you choose to remember…

God bless America, land that I love…

 

Katie Kolberg Memmel is the author of “Five Fingers, Ten Toes – A Mother’s Story of Raising a Child Born with a Limb Difference.” The book is available through Amazon as both a paperback and a Kindle download.  http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=katie+kolberg+memmel 

Remembering Mom on Mother's Day...

My mom passed away in February of 2003. I expressed in my book, “Five Fingers, Ten Toes…” that I don’t think I did enough grieving about it at the time. She’d been ill for quite some time, so her passing was expected. Not only that, but I had two teenagers in the house and life moved on very quickly.

I don’t know if this is normal or not, (where grief is concerned, what is normal, right?) but there have only been a couple of times in ten years where I’ve really, really missed her – like deep-down sadness overwhelms me and I miss her. One of those times was while I prepared to host a bridal shower in my home. I knew how passionately Mom would have loved attending that shower and wedding, and the pain of that missed opportunity overtook me. And again, this week, has been rough on me as well. Since there’s no big event (like a bridal shower) coming up, I can only assume my emotions hit hard because the number ten (years since her passing) seems so significant. Mother’s Day is this Sunday, so she’s in my thoughts more than usual. I don’t know, I’m guessing.

One thing is certain. When I got to thinking about her, I decided I wanted to share a few of my thoughts here on the blog.

I think that a lot of little girls are ‘daddy’s girls.’ But I wasn’t. Though I presently get along great with my dad, back then I think I was more of a ‘mom’s girl.’ I liked the time she and I spent together; and since my siblings are all significantly older than me, and my dad worked a lot, Mom and I spent a whole lot of time together.

I loved shopping with her. Days spent shopping were always about me – she rarely shopped for herself when we were together. So she’d let me try on clothes, and then go out and exchange sizes for me, rave about how nice something looked, or even admitted it wasn’t ‘for me.’ But whatever she said, I knew I could believe her. No ‘pity likes’ from my mother. And then as long as we were out, she’d say, “Well, we may as well grab some lunch/dinner! Why, it would be silly to go all the way home now, right?” (She winked)

Whenever I went away to a camp or an event for a few days, as soon as I got back I’d fill her in on all the fun stuff I experienced, and all the great people I met. She was a wonderful listener – something that’s truly lacking in our busy world today. I realize now that being a good listener is something I strive for in my own life – I probably got that gift from her. She’d say, “Kate, a good conversation is like a game of catch. Sometimes you throw the ball (talk) and sometimes you catch the ball (listen). But if both people don’t follow the rules, the game (conversation) falls flat.” Wise words… I try to live up to that idea to this day in my own dealings and conversations

When I was a young teenager, I didn’t enjoy babysitting very much. One family in particular gave me a real ‘run for my money’ (so to speak). I told my mom the next morning that the five-year-old boy had yelled at me, “I hate you!”  She asked me how I handled it and I said I didn’t know what to say. She offered as advice, “If he ever does that again, just smile at him and say, well I like you.” At the time I thought she was sort of nuts, but since she raised four kids, maybe she knew what she was talking about.

When I was in high school, I filled her in on all of the up-and-coming hot young musical artists. I think she liked Billy Joel because I liked Billy Joel, but she was never quite clear on what some of those lyrics meant… As we did the dishes at night, with just the kitchen radio as our background, I’d tell her about Fleetwood Mac and Elton John (this was still back in the 70’s – before so many public revelations were made or confessed).

And I must say that in relation to issues of boys and dating – my mother could have personally written the book, “He’s Just Not That Into You…”  (Minus the sex references, of course)  She had male/female behaviors nailed down to a tea. “Don’t call boys, Kate – if they are interested, they’ll call you.” I must admit that I didn’t always heed her wise words; but in hindsight I should have - could have. I now believe she was right about a whole lot of things.

It was that wisdom I missed most while raising my own two children. How I would have loved to ask her a million questions about raising kids – teens especially. Nothing seemed as terrible once I voiced it to Mom. She’d usually say something like, “Oh yeah, that’s normal. Why, one time…” and she’d have an anecdote that eased the tough situation.

But she passed away at age 74 – relatively young in today’s years. My siblings reaped more of her good advice on child raising than I did. I figured it was a good thing I’d listened attentively years ago when I was young, and had the chance.

Anyway – I just wanted to take this pre- Mother’s Day time to chat a bit about my mom and why I thought she was special. Now that I’m 51 and I can see my own personality traits so clearly, (some lovely, some more terrifying ;) ) I realize that my mom passed some great wisdom on to me. Some I used instantly and have used throughout most of my life. Some I’m just seeing clearly now for the first time.

There were certainly times she possessed the ability to infuriate me. I believe I possessed the same ability for her some days. But, just like the advice she gave to me about the boy I babysat, I like to think of her smiling, winking, and saying, “Well, I like you…”    Anyway…

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I miss you and I’ll love you always…