Vicky makes Mom’s noodles for my birthday!!!!

 I am 74.  I can hardly believe it.  Only old people are 74.  Not me. 

As Mattie, in True Grit, says, "Time just gets away from us."

Here I am, my first photo after I was born.  My mother showing me off. 

I am so fortunate.  I was born to two people who wanted me.  And in return, I always wanted them to be my mom and dad.  They never let me, or my sister, Kathy down, or their grandchildren.  They had kids, and they kept their commitments until they died.  What else is there to a good life?

Yesterday, as I enjoyed all that Vicky and my family did for me to celebrate, I wished my parents were still here to celebrate with me too.  I thought about them often.  This day is actually theirs. 

After my parents got married in 1947, my father took my mother to a bar he had often gone to that was close to his home in Carson, Iowa.  After they left, my mother turned to my father and said;  "Frank, I'm just not comfortable going to places like that."

So they never did again.  Given that my grandfather was an alcoholic, and that alcoholism runs in the family, this event, listening to my mother, could have turned my father's life around.  He listened to his wife, who he loved, and who he loved for the next 65 years.  And because of that love for her, he escaped a family curse.

Here is a photo of my dad a few months after I was born.  It's the earliest one I have of him and me:

Notice what is in his left hand.  A cigarette.  Shortly after this photo, he decided to give up smoking.  This was years before the Surgeon General's report.  He later explained that he just thought that cigarette smoke "couldn't be good for Danny."  

Thank you dad.  You gave me so much, and a childhood not breathing poison was only one of many things.  You were smart enough to figure out what it took scientists another 20 years to figure out.

I still have the ashtray that was my father's last one he used.  It is a Frankoma piece.  We have it proudly on display up at the cabin in our china cabinet.   On the bottom is a piece of tape where my mother had written:  "Frank quit smoking 1948."

 

 

So my mother got my father out of the bars/drinking life, and he got himself away from a smoker's life.  

......and as a result, we all had better, and longer lives.  My sister and I benefited the most, along with them.  And my children and Vicky and our grandchildren and my niece Tonia.  Isn't it amazing how that works?  They never could have imagined.  They were just doing the next thing that seemed right.  Love spreads far and for years.

Vicky planned my day.   My birthday.  

And what a day it was.  And what a job she did.  So many things to make it special for me.....all thoughtfully prepared out of love.

It was a day where I ended up feeling like a king.  And a day when Vicky, realizing everything I just wrote to this point, brought my mother and father into the celebration in a very powerful way.

We started our day relaxing in bed and drinking coffee (me) or hot water (her).  Usually we have to get up right away (at 2;30 a.m.) so we can get to the swimming pool and swim and shower so we don't run into anybody else there.  But the pool was closed, so we could have a relaxing start to the day.

Then we took a 4-mile walk in the dark, on a walk that has great meaning to us.  It is out on the back-nine of one of the golf courses.  A year and a half ago we took this walk every day for several months while I was getting radiation treatment.  Besides the fact that we never see anybody else on this walk, we like it because of its openness.  

We really enjoyed it.  We think there will always be an emotional connection to this walk because it was a time of, we hope, healing my body.  And we did it together.  Together, every day, like we do everything, which is together.

We also got to try out Emily's, Sean's, Soren's and Sebastian's birthday gift, which was some gloves that you wrap around your fingers that have lights on them--handy when we walk in the dark:

After our walk she made me breakfast.  Check this out.  Or should I say: "Eat your heart out."

Real bacon.  Thick sliced.  Avocado.  Mashed potatoes, and two over-easy eggs.

....and my first gift.  A bottle of Chianti.  Chianti is my favorite wine.  Besides the taste, another thing I like about Chianti wine is that the bottles are often very pretty.  This one is an example of that:

Then Kathy and Bill Facetimed us (is "Facetimed" a word?).  They had sent me a cool gift.  It was a John Wayne mug.  You can see it, if you have really good eyes, in the small screen on the upper right hand corner where we are holding it up for the camera.

What it says on it is "Here's to you, Pilgrim."  More on that later.

On the bottom it says it was fired in 1980.  40 years ago.  Bill has had it all of these years, but knowing my affection for John Wayne, he thought it would rest better with me.  Is that sweet or what?  Bill is officially my brother-in-law, but I call him my brother.  He is a brother.  We always have had a good relationship. 

They also did a pretty good "Happy Birthday." 

Then it was more-gifts-from-Vicky time.

Vicky got me an Arizona Highway magazine that featured John Ford in Monument Valley (where my favorite film, The Searchers, and many other famous westerns were filmed by the director John Ford, a 4-time Academy Award winner for director).  It had a lot of interesting facts.  

And she got me a really beautiful Monument Valley coffee cup.  It is unusual because of its coloring.  She bought it at a gift shop right outside of Monument Valley where we stayed with Bill and Kathy a few months ago.  Isn't it pretty?

Then...we danced.  I had put together a dance list of our favorites.  One of them was 20 years old (the theme from Cider House Rules), three of them are 40 years old, and the rest are older.  Why is that? 

Old curmudgeon alert!  The answer is because most modern music is crap.  Maybe it's not, but we listen and listen and just don't hear anything that is beautiful and romantic or that grabs us and pulls us out onto our dance floor. 

Then.....Vicky made me my birthday meal.  And was it ever special.

She made my mother's homemade noodles.

These noodles were my mother's signature dish.  When we and everyone else were visiting her and Dad in Leisure World she would make them for us.  Everybody loved them.  

And they aren't easy to make.  Or to make right, at least.

Vicky, knowing they are our family favorite, thought that in honor of mom on my birthday, that this would be a great dinner. Isn't that thoughtful.

She has made them before.  She has mom's recipe.  When she made it the first time, she called mom and mom talked her through it.  

So, here goes.

First, she buys only the best cut of beef.  A London Broil.  There is hardly any fat on a London Broil, but any that is there is removed.  She slices it it counter to the grain.  Then she browns it with an onion plus spices.  After it browns, she adds 5-6 cups of water and two packages of dry brown gravy mix.  Then she cooks it slowly, for over two hours.   It is soooo tender and tasty.

 

 

She makes the mashed potatoes out of three kinds of potatoes--Yukon Gold, Red Potatoes, and Russet Potatoes.  We like the skins, so they are left on.  She has several tricks to make them tasty.

Then, the noodles:

 

Two important tricks:  don't mess with the dough too much and cut the noodles very thin.  

Then she removes the meat from the broth and puts the noddles into the remaining broth:

The next part is where I come in...........dishing mounds of it onto my plate.  We all have our skills.

And eating!

Do I look happy?  

And then, of course, going back for seconds......and thirds.  

Such a loving thing for her to do.  And to bring that connection with the mother who carried me in her body and was such a good mother for Kathy and me made this day even more wonderful.  It was like my mother and father were here with us.  I actually felt it.  I did.  Earlier in the day, on our walk, we had gone by the place they lived in for 20 years.  Whenever we walk past their home or cycle past their home we say "Hi mom and dad!"  Today we said:  "Mom!  We're having your noddles today.....it's my birthday!"

AND IT WASN'T OVER!  If you can believe that. 

Because, I had more gifts!  

Denver Broncos matching hats that she made for us.

 

Aren't we cute?

And my final gift from my treasure.  

An Avanti model for me to construct.  Wow!

 

I have loved the Avanti automobile since they came out in 1963.  They were Studebaker's last gasp to save their company.  They were an absolutely beautiful car.  They were made only in 1963 and 1964.  When Studebaker went out of business in 1964, a group of enthusiasts bought all of the remaining frames and continued to produce them, hand built, for 20 years, until they ran out of frames and had to stop.  

The one I had was a 1972.  Has there ever been a more beautiful car? 

I drove it until I retired in 2007, then I sold it knowing that I couldn't drive it on Whidbey Island.  It required too much attention and upkeep.  

(side note:  Vicky says I told her that there was no place on Whidbey Island to really let this thing loose.  It had an aluminum block Chevy 350 with a 4-barrel carburetor, and it needed to have a place where it could roar.  Maybe I said that, maybe I didn't.......OK....I did.)

Boy, do I miss it. 

 I can't wait to get started on my model.....and I'll have an Avanti again!

Then? (what?  there's more?)  Yes, there is more.

My birthday cake, which this year was a home-made pumpkin pie:

You gotta watch this:

I ate about 2/3 of it.  For real.  With MOUNDS of whipping cream.  

Then we watched a John Wayne movie:  The Man who Shot Liberty Valence.  The reason I chose this film is that the quote on the mug Bill gave me for my birthday was from that film.  Plus it is a good one, showing John Wayne in a very sympathetic role where he saves a man who is his rival for his love.  It was the final John Wayne/John Ford collaboration, a collaboration that produced the finest western films ever made.  

And then Emily, Sean, Soren, and Sebastian Facetimed (I have decided that this is a word) and did a terrific rendition of Happy Birthday.  And we got to talk with the boys, which is always a good time.  The family's and the boys' cards are in the photo below.

(Oh, and while watching Liberty Valence, I had some more pie.)

I have to say, once again, about how much heart and love was put into my birthday by everyone.  I heard from everyone in my family.   Jules and Diane emailed me and sent me one of the cards seen below.  I got emails from Ian and Adam, and texts from Candice, Marina, Stella, Owen, Mila, and Hannah.  

 

And I have to say, once again, how much effort my treasure, Vicky, put into making the day special for me, in every way, not just in making my mom's noodles.  I love her.

A birthday I will always remember.  Thank you everyone. 

Our granddaughter Aryana can really rock and roll!!!!

 

 Here she is entertaining her little brother (see Easton in the bottom of the picture near the end of the video):

Is it tennis? Is it badminton? Is it ping pong? No…it’s PICKLEBALL!!!

We both played ping pong and badminton as children.  In fact Dan was a ping pong champion at his small college on Iowa.  Dan lettered in tennis in high school.  He still has his racket....and his letter.

As a child, my dad taught me how to play tennis.  I was never very good at it, but I liked playing.  Since my big brother, Doug, was on the high school tennis team, I turned out for tennis my sophomore year. 

The other reason that I joined the team was that it was the only sport in our high school that girls could play.  I had always played football, baseball, made tree forts, and played all day long with the boys in our neighborhood.  None of the girls did all the fun things that boys did.

Since I was the only girl on the high school tennis team, I made the team.  I played in every varsity game and every match.  There was no junior varsity team.  I played against talented girls, and I was still a beginner. But I had fun.  I would have turned out for tennis the next spring, but I became a cheerleader and cheered on all the boy’s teams.  That was fun too!

Dan started to play racquetball when he was around forty years old.  He played every week with his very good friends Susan, Laurence, and Doug.  These friends tell me that Dan was hard to beat.  He loved racquetball.  After playing, he and his friends would go out to breakfast.  This was one of the highlights of his life for seventeen years.  Then he retired and moved to Whidbey Island, so he could find the love of his life—me.

Because of Dan’s foot problems that resulted in three surgeries and 19” of screws in his right foot, he can no longer run for a tennis ball or play racquetball. 

We bought a ping pong table nine years ago and play almost every week.  Last year we bought a second ping pong table so we can play here at Nuestra Casa and at our cabin.    You have heard of two-car families?  We are a two ping pong table family.

We totally enjoy the game, and have gotten quite good at it.  Dan is much better than me, so there’s no point in playing a game—unless he just wanted to win every time, and I liked spending the game picking the balls off the floor.  Instead we try to see how long we can volley the ball.  We hit some killer shots.  Through the years I have gotten to be a great ping pong player too.  It’s a blast, and we often end up laughing hysterically.

A few days ago we decided to try out the game that is all the rage now in Leisure World—pickleball.  We figured that if our bodies would allow us to play, that we would have fun learning a game that is a cross between badminton, tennis, and ping pong.

We took the plunge and invested a whole $60 in a good, but relatively cheap, set of paddles.  We had never even held a pickleball racket in our hands or seen one up close before.  It even came with balls and a carrying case—we were stoked!

Not surprisingly, we loved playing from our first very unsuccessful volley.  Now after playing three days in a row, we are both sore and stiff in places we’ve never hurt before.  We bought some wrist braces and are liberally using ice on our sore body parts.

But the best news of all…..drum roll…..we have successfully volleyed 15 TIMES!!!

Well, to be honest, our average volley is three, but we’re having a blast.  We have a court reserved for tomorrow.  

The tale of Grandma Vicky……

Many years ago in a magical land far away, Marina was born, and Grandma Vicky had a precious granddaughter.

And then another little angel appeared—sweet Stella.

Precious little Ida came into this world and then there were three granddaughters.

Little Alden was born and Grandma Vicky had a dear grandson.

And then Grandma Vicky found Grandpa Dan—or maybe, Grandpa Dan found Grandma Vicky....or more likely the God of Dancing and love brought them together.

Grandpa had three grandsons, Ian, Adam, and Soren.   Little Sebastian was born.…..and then Grandma Vicky and Grandpa Dan had five grandsons and three granddaughters.  

Sweet baby Sebastian was lulled to sleep in Grandma Vicky’s arms as she sang a lullaby to him.

Grandpa Dan lovingly held Sebastian, our new little grandson.

Brave little Soren learned to dive by leaping into Grandpa Dan’s arms.

Grandma Vicky teaching Soren how to swim and kick, kick, kick…

Grandma Vicky and Grandpa Dan had so much fun and so many adventures camping and hiking with Ian and Adam!  

Here we are all together at Deception Pass State Park.

Carrying Adam piggyback out to the rock on our first camping trip together at South Whidbey State Park:

Grandma Vicky teaching Marina and Stella to sew….

The years passed and Wilder, Aryana, Hannah, and baby Easton were born, and there were twelve little and not so little grandchildren.

Wilder, a happy child who loves the fields and swamps and all creatures, big and small.

Grandma Vicky huddled in the shade under the picnic table showing Ida, Alden, and Wilder pictures of our home, Nuestra Casa.  Grandma and Grandpa look forward to the that day that they can come a visit us so we can spend days playing together.

Grandma Vicky and Grandpa Dan yearn to hold our little grandchildren Hannah, Aryana and Easton—soon, maybe soon, when the pandemic no longer keeps us apart.  For now, we are cuddling them in the warm hats and sweaters that I knitted for them.  And every day we hold them very close in our hearts.  

And they all lived happily ever after!

Wait.  This is not the end of the story.  The tale of Grandma Vicky and Grandpa Dan continues to unfold. None of us knows what path this tale will follow— only time will tell.  

All we know for sure is that all twelve of these grandchildren are gifts that Grandma and Grandpa will love and cherish forever and ever.