Being single after a committed 40+ year marriage has its ups and downs. So much to learn, explore, and evaluate. Traveling this bumpy, scenic road of new experiences continue to surprise and entertain me daily.

“You’re not serious! Come on, Jewel, stop with the joking. I’m just not ready for this.”   Passing a 2nd year of singledom, Jewel suggested I give online dating a try. A dear, dear friend, our bond likened that of sisters. We respected each other’s love and honesty.  She continued to goad and challenge my confidence.

“Oh Francie, what do you have to lose?” she chuckled. “I’ll help set up your profile, it will be our fun project!  Just think of the men you’ll meet. And the free meals!”

It didn’t take long for push to come to shove. Perusing several sites for the 50 and over crowd, we settled for “Yours, Mine, and Ours”. Consumer Reports gave it an acceptable rating and we were off to adventure.  Posting a few lively pics of myself, I was cautious to not include family members or friends. Jewel assisted me with a safe, ladylike profile. “Don’t include that you have an “average” body. Say it’s “slender”. Men like that term. Anybody can say they are “average.” Giggling and editing for 30 minutes, we were ready to post.  I was beginning to like the idea of being available.

Fast forward six weeks. I have viewed over 400 local possibles. The site provides several profiles on a daily basis of which share in many of my profile qualities. It is then up to me to decide with a “Yes” or “No” whether I find them of interest. Of these 400 or so lucky fellas, I have “messaged/flirted” with roughly fifty. A short message regarding a nice smile, profile or the like is penned and my pseudo name is provided. I have received replies from maybe 15 of them. Three I have actually met for a coffee or light meal. Whether these stats are typical or not, you are invited to share in the lightheartedness of my early online shenanigans.

Suitor #1 caught my eye as a Christian, musician, and widower. All safe in my thoughts of morals and values.  “Guitar Sam” and I met for coffee. Easy enough. Meet up, shake hands and engage in conversation. After a comfortable two- hour sharing, GS informed me that I was the easiest woman he had ever carried a conversation with. I shared my lady-like smile and responded, “I feel the same, GS. I actually feel like I’ve been talking to my brother for the last two hours.” OOPS!

GS chuckled and added, “Funny, you remind me of my sister!”  We ended with a hearty laugh, hug, and wishing each other well in the hunt for happiness and love.

Suitor #2 stated he was a no-drama, laid back fella. His pics showed a rather handsome man. “Early Bird” suggested a light breakfast and I committed. Again, the meet up was comfortable as we smiled and shook hands.  EB sat down and quickly ordered. “So where abouts you from?” he abruptly inquired. I spoke candidly about my farm life and subsequent adult life in a suburban setting. Returning the volley, I asked EB about his life.

From that point on, literally, EB did all the talking. Conversations covered the lawsuit he had with the township, the holding pond in his backyard, and his mentorship with a local deviant.  As my watch moved near hour two, I mentioned an upcoming appointment. EB took care of the bill, thanked me for the great conversation and walked me to my car. A hug and wish of luck was offered and accepted. Bye, bye Birdie so to speak!

Possibility #3 was “Billy Go”. He was a widower looking for an adventurous, fun lady. He offered a lunch meet up and I agreed. Losing my apprehensiveness and gaining confidence, I headed for the local diner. As I opened the door to enter, Billy was literally bouncing lightly while sporting an infectious smile. He reached out his hand and pulled me in for a hug. Oh boy, do I have here, an innocent crush or loose cannon?  The hostess seated us and the meet calmly commenced.

Peeking over the menu several times,  BG giggled, “So Francie what do you think?”  

“Pardon me?” I asked.

Lightly bouncing in his seat, Billy repeated himself.  “Me, Francie. Do you think I might be the one for you?”

Not having an immediate response, I suggested we order and spend time getting to know each other. I asked BG a few light questions regarding his family and interests. He happily responded and returned like queries to me. Our meal came and we continued our light conversation. As the bill arrived BG shared one last thought.

“So, Francie, you know we’re not getting any younger. You and me. And like me, you are probably set in your ways. But, Francie, I want you to know, I can change my ways. I can change for you Francie. What do you think now?”

Sadly, he was beginning to look pathetic. “Well Billy, I am so new at this online thing and dating in general. I’m not sure what I really want in my life. I’m still pretty confused.”

With a long sigh, BG concluded, “So Francie, it’s a No? I’m not the one?”

“No Billy, I’m not ready to make any decisions today.  But thank you for the lunch and conversation. I do feel like I’ve made a friend with you today. I hope you feel the same.”

Billy Go smiled and rose to leave. He took hold of my hand and led me to the door. He coyly pressed his fingers to his lips and raised his eyebrows, smiling one last time.

“No Billy, I’m not going to kiss you. I’ll give you a hug and wish you well. You will be fine in this adventure.”

A meaningful hug. An honest wish to Billy. God Bless Billy. My record 0-3.  

Lessons Learned

Regardless of age, dating is tough. Ups and downs, uncertainty, confidence or lack of…….pressures of dating never age.

Pictures and words aren’t enough. To know someone, it takes more than our eyes can see and read. Person to person contact is the real deal.

***** More to come of my adventures as a guarded self…….or as reckless abandon?

Stay tuned and thanks for reading!

“You know, our God is watching.  We must always obey in His words.”  Miss Lotte knew her God. Who was I to question?  

I had recently moved to the west side of Michigan and cautiously meeting new neighbors, friends, and the usual.  Blessedly, I had secured a one-bedroom apartment that was outrageously clean, safe and reasonable. I was literally in Heaven without knowledge! Securing this new living arrangement, little did I know:

** This town was extremely conservative, with a variety of religious sects and overtones.  Good I thought…..I’m in safe hands!

**The apartment building was owned by a church, hence, the lowest rent since my college days, decades ago. Thank you Jesus!

**My neighbors were either aged Dutch immigrants or seminary students!  Really, Jesus? Are You trying to hint to something?

**Seminary students with whom I lived were from China, Malawi, Scotland, and South Korea to name a few. Speaking very little English, these scholars study, study, study. No television, no radio, no music.  This place became my calm, my Heaven on Earth!

Miss Lotte became my first friend and neighbor.  She was a spry, spirited senior well into her 80s. Never married, expertly a “Jesus girl”, Lotte would be my mentor and guide while navigating a new city, new single life, and new lessons in spirituality, love, and being Dutch.

“Sundays, we do no work, God’s day for rest,” Lotte cautioned me the first week. I thought nothing of this until my first Sunday arrived.  I was taking out my weekly trash before heading to church. “Now is this considered work or not?” I pondered.

Who would meet me at the door, Miss Lotte. “It’s Sunday, Lotte. Sorry. I got it.” I sheepishly whispered. She pointed a finger at me, smiled and remained silent.

A few weeks into my new place, Lotte and her good friend Johanna invited me to their church’s fall bazaar. Easy enough I thought and met them in the hall for this new adventure. Dressed in their buttoned up cardigans, below the knee denim skirts and dark hose, they eyed me with surprise. “Well Francie, you will be a guest of ours, so your jeans should be acceptable,” Lotte stated matter-of-factly.  

“Ah, just a minute ladies, I left something in the apartment. I’ll be right back.”  I immediately left to change into appropriate attire. Jeans off. Skirt on. Sweater matches. Good to go.

I returned to smiling and approval.  Lotte paused, “Thank you Francine for honoring our religious beliefs. You didn’t have to, but thank you. See Johanna, we’ll make her Dutch yet!”

Johanna complied, “Ya, we make her Dutch! Let’s go get some food.”

Fast forward, two years.  Miss Lotte, Johanna, and I have become great neighbors and friends. We discuss food, God, and life. We visit often, as they serve up a variety of delicious pastries that include heavy cream, butter, and a good measure of liquor.  Lotte has added more than once, “I must follow the recipe if it is to taste like the Dutch would have. Fran, you are such a card to think I am kidding about the liquor.”

My favorite of all her desserts has been Tiramisu. “Miss Lotte, this is absolutely divine! I can’t even taste the alcohol. Is there any in it?” I asked between feminine nibbles.  

“Well of course! The recipe called for three tablespoons of Kahlua, but I add a good measure, one half cup. Jesus drank wine, I like Kahlua! He won’t mind, ya?” Sipping her ever-so strong caffeinated coffee, I continued the sweet lust.

Yes, God is ever-present in Miss Lotte’s life. Raised as a very conservative Dutch Reformist, church is so much her life. Sunday services begin at 10 a.m. and sermons can be as long as three hours. Women always wear skirts or dresses AND a hat. Long ago, the hat was worn to keep the men attentive to the pulpit’s message rather than eyeing a special lady or two. Lotte and her family gather every Sunday afternoon for dinner, readings, and music. Family traditions seldom change.

As for our many life chats, Miss Lotte continues to have concerns regarding my need for a good man. “A good Dutch man is what I keep looking for you. They are tall, big blue eyes, and are very handsome. This is what you need Fran. I will keep my eye out for you, ya?”  God bless Miss Lotte.

Lessons Learned

Yes, God is good. I have a safe place to live, people who watch over and love me. I in turn, provide the same.

Never hesitate to learn something new.  These ladies and fellow tenants teach me something new every day. Be humble. Be kind. Be Dutch. “If you’re not Dutch, you’re not much!”  

Thanks for reading!

Where does one begin?  There are no favorites. There are no “bests”.  My seven siblings continue to be my strengths and loves.  Claudia, Ang, Zen, Frankie, Suzie Q, Lil Mikey, and of course, baby sis Kitty have my heart. On this Valentine’s Day, I celebrate you all as my forever and always.

Claudia was the first to begin the family of Crazy Eights. Life would have been so boring not having an older sister. Claudia was the “first” at literally everything.  She was the first for new shoes, a tri and bicycle, job, boyfriend and social life. In addition, she was the first to bring home cases of Chickenpox, Measles, and Mumps! The family living room often became an infirmary as a result of Claudia’s firsts.

Ever the know-it-all, I looked to her for advice, authority, and outgrown clothing and toys. Claudia was tall, I was short. She was average sized, I was puny. Straight hair, curly mess. Boyfriend, not me. Often serious, me, not so much! Yes, I discovered early on I could easily annoy her by teasing or pulling her chains of authority.

Kidding aside, Claudia continues to be my mentor and champion.  Just a year older, she has been my learning tool for emotional, and mental growth. Providing a loving support system as a wife, mother and successful preschool teacher, Claudia is reaping the blessings she has sowed. You continue to win my heart and admiration, Claudi.

As learned earlier, nine short months after my birth, Momma and Daddy were surprised and blessed with twin daughters.  Angela and Zenia came into the Crazy Eights like a storm. Each weighing more than myself, they continued to grow taller, outweigh, and out maneuver me on the social scene. They both carried strength that I could only imagine.

Often Ang and I spent time sharing chores, gossip, and giggles. She seemed so confident and a perfect fit for my insecurities. Some sibs saw her as, Miss Bossy Pants. Myself, however, relied on her as an authority of fashion, appealing hairstyles, and boys.

Ang spent her adult life often putting others in front of her own needs. As a nurse, many patients were eased by her kindness. Painted nails, foot rubs, curled hair, and loving words assisted their convalescence or final journey. I can only hope that my later years are spent with someone as caring and assuring as Ang. I love you more Nurse Ang!

Zen, the other half of the twin duo, had a work ethic like no other. On the farm, she was often teased as “Daddy’s favorite.” Always the first to begin farm chores, tend to the garden, or hang clothes on the line, Zen was there.  She was likely one of “Momma’s favorites” as well.

As an adult, Zen had a career as a cashier in addition to working part time as a home health aide. Kind, generous and always reliable, she has a heavy heart. I so admire your many strengths Zenia, and love you to pieces.

Entering the world as sibling five, brother Frankie was nothing like his sisters. Mischievous, seldom serious, and ever so talkative, Frankie kept everyone on their toes. His innocent, saucer-like brown eyes and infectious smile served him well. I so remember Frankie building contraptions and such to make daily chores easier. Sometimes they worked, often they did not.

Today, I appreciate Frankie for his cleverness and creative genius. He taps sugar maples every spring for fresh maple syrup. He has a way with wood as he smartly crafts everything from wedding rings to tables and yes, buildings! He built his own home and horse barn to the amazement of friends and neighbors. Frankie loves his God and God loves him. Frankie, I love you as a compassionate, creative, goof of a brother!

Sister Suzie Q. came into the family as number six. I remember her most as petite, shy and a follower of rules and siblings. Nicknamed, “Little Worm,” she was often an innocent participant in our antics.  As a result, she suffered mishaps that we seemed to escape. Because of our careless adventures, Suzie was rushed to the hospital for a broken arm, a corn kernel up her nose, and abscessed tooth to name a few.

A champion for the underdog, Suz is honest and has a heart of gold. She wears it well on her sleeve. She has led a successful career as a dedicated bank employee, momma and grammie. Thank you Suz for our endless giggles and sharing of beds. You helped to warm my toes and heart!

Lovebug number seven is little brother Mikey.  Like sister Suzie Q., Mikey was shy, polite, and a follower.  I often saw him as “Momma’s favorite.” He was easy to love with his calm, coyish smile. As a baby, Mikey crawled floors and unluckily located a leak in our furnace. Accidently, he ingested fuel oil and was rushed to the hospital. Given last blessings by our priest, Mikey overcame the odds and grew to be a tall, handsome, and responsible citizen.

Older and on to college, my time home with Mikey was sparse.  Recently, we took an out of state trip to visit aging relatives. Spending this time together opened my eyes to a not so innocent younger brother. Yes, he was mischievous. Yes, he had illegal parties on the farm. Yes, he skipped school. And yes, Mikey turned out a true gentleman with a tender heart. Thank you Mikey, for letting me love you so easily.

Rounding out the Crazy Eights is sweet, friend to all, Miss Kitty. Early memories of Miss K. are loving and secure. She was seldom without a lap or shoulder to cozy up and nap. She was treated like a living doll as we competed for her attention.  Although she will always be the baby sister, I feel Kitt is emotionally strongest of all. She is often the go-to for advice, support, truth and organization. Funny how that seems to work for us older sibs.

Of late, we have become Kitty’s cheer team as she continues to work full time as a caregiver, devoted wife, and momma. Her kind, generous way never forgets a birthday. In addition, she often goes the extra mile working overtime for an understaffed care facility. Miss K. your emotional strength and love appear effortless. You are my shining star and a rock!

There you have it. My crazy bunch of generous, loving souls.  I hold my memories of each of you so dear in my heart and prayers. I am so very blessed that you are my Forever Valentines. XOXOXOX

Lessons Learned

The most important thing in the world is family and love. Former basketball coach John Wooden said it best.

Common threads make for a beautiful quilt. What we are today and what we may become tomorrow come from these very threads of guidance, respect, and love.

Thanks for reading!

As a teen, I seldom recognized self confidence and drive to stretch my comfort zone. Reared in a poor family of eight children, college was as far away as graduating with honors. I enjoyed school as grades were above average, however, not stellar. I was shy and not attractive. Skinny, frizzy haired, and in competition with 5 other sisters became a daily challenge.

Added to these common pressures was the sudden death of my father.  Alone and afraid, I entered my sophomore year tentatively. It became a goal to smile each day without panic or anxiety. I failed miserably.

The year was 1967. There were no grief support groups or counselors. I had Momma.  Ever strong, ever a guide, she was my comfort and strength. I seemed oblivious to anyone else’s emotional needs—–other than my own. Sleepless nights and continuous worry consumed me. One particular Sunday night became my reckoning.

Without realization, I was in the throes of a severe panic attack. I assumed I was having a heart attack and ready to die…irrational thoughts for such a pathetic girl. Listening and hugs of reassurance failed. Momma relied on her only source of help, the local emergency room.

Two hours of examination proved nothing amiss. The attending physician ordered intense rest, counseling, and anti-anxiety medication. Momma placed me on half days of school and a visit to the high school counselor, Mr. G.

Meds were consumed as life had become a calm, continuous blur.  Anxiety was held at bay, but irrational thoughts conflicted with the rational. Confidence had rocked my grades and faith to move forward with life. To the rescue, Mr. G.

Soft-spoken and a gentle spirit were Mr. G’s assets. He was the only counselor at our high school of nearly 400 students. We trusted his knowledge and ability to encourage and develop our young minds. It was Momma and Mr. G’s decision that I visit him at least once a week for a marking period. We would discuss my anxiety, problem solve workable solutions, and “plan my future.”

Slowly and rationally, I began to heal from Daddy’s loss. Mr. G offered unquestionable solace to my unhealthy, irrational thoughts. On one particular visit, he suggested I step out of my safe haven of home.  “A school-wide musical is coming together for this spring. Have you thought anything of getting involved with that?” His encouragement seemed to be just what I needed. “Francine, even if you cannot sing, they will need help behind the scenes. Think about it.”

The musical, “Oklahoma,” was a huge success. Three performance were sold out in our small school. I was a proud member of this troupe, serving as Chief Make-up Artist.  To have a title, and ownership to something was encouraging and confidence building. Baby steps to my healing.

Gradually, my grades improved and Honor Roll status returned. I ended the worst year of my life a bit more confident and assured. Additional visits continued with Mr. G.  He had become my champion for positive change and renewal.

Late in my Junior year, Mr. G presented me with an unexpected challenge. “ You know Francie, you are a very smart young lady. Have you thought about college? Your family may not have the means, but I can help you apply for financial aid. Your personal drive is apparent and college is not out of the question for you.”

“Mr. G, I never thought about college. I really don’t think I’m smart enough and the costs are way too much. I don’t think I could do this.” Insecurities and irrational thoughts had returned. Unreachable, I made no effort to take him seriously.

If it were not for the persistence of Mr. G, I honestly do not think I would have gone to college. Mr. G completed applications to take the college entrance exam (ACT), college entrance itself, and financial aid. I was readily accepted to the local university and provided all but $800.00 for my first year!  With acceptable grades, financial aid continued all four years.

For 36 years, I successfully worked with special needs teens with various disabilities. I earned two Master degrees in education, graduating each time with high honors.  Mr. G received a personal thank you each time I moved forward.

This exceptional gentleman continues to be my shining star. He provided the open doors for me to gain personal confidence, a college education, and a secure, productive life. Mr. G has been my rock star!  I am forever grateful to YOU, Mr. G.

LESSONS LEARNED:

Be grateful.  Having a mentor like Mr. G provided me with balance and confidence.

Do not fear help. Identify with peers and/or trusted adults.  Search out support. You are not alone. The rewards are priceless.

Believe in the value others see in you.  Mr. G. saw so much more in my abilities than I ever believed. His honest and candid support provided me an impetus for making a difference with teenagers and their varying abilities.

Thanks again for reading!

Seems like only yesterday, but it has been years.  As previously posted, I was reared on a small, 160 acre farm in the Midwest. Being a family of ten, my parents, Francis and Catherine, became strong guides, mentors, and safety nets for their eight love pups. Strong love. Strong selves.  A dedicated, true team.

Stifling. Humid. It was an average August day of my 15th year.  A lightning bolt struck with a fierceness that has never faded from memory. My pops had suffered a massive stroke while driving his loving Massey Ferguson. Little could be done and his life was dissolved just like that. Hopeless and helpless became our family’s focus.

Left behind was a momma aged 34, eight siblings ranging in age from 16 to seven, heads of cattle, flocks of chickens, a sty of pigs, and assorted crops needing care. I could not fathom what was about to happen in this fairytale life. Little House on the Prairie was about to be challenged.

Momma quickly rounded us up at the kitchen table and matter-of-factly announced, “We all need to pull up our bootstraps and make Daddy proud. God never gives us more than we can handle. We are all in this together and will survive.” Strong words secured with love. To this day, I am not certain Mom or any of my sibs ever took the time to grieve.

Neighbors and relatives quickly came to our rescue. Help, food, and money kept us moving forward. After six weeks of labor, our neighbors began to tire, fences broke and little money was coming in to raise our empty tummies and hearts.

An auction sale was successfully planned and executed. Momma paid the most urgent of bills. She had no other choice but to apply and receive food stamps and Social Security for us nine survivors. Embarrassed and awkward, we held our heads high and looked only to another day. Within a few short weeks, by the grace of God, she received a phone call from the high school principal. He offered her a job as a hot lunch cook. Life was beginning to normalize in a sense.

I became an overnight mess.  Intense anxiety replaced my comfortable life. Emptiness and fears replaced rational thoughts. Tears and panic. Panic and tears. Sleepless nights.  My grades plummeted and friendships began to wane. The only course of action was a trip to the emergency room and a script for anxiety medication. I was given half day sessions of school and regular visits to my high school counselor Mr. G. He became my saving grace.

Mr. G., calm and collected. He was the one shining star to my dim hopes. Helping me to believe in myself, I will always remember his very simple words,   “You are smart, you are likable and you will be alright. There’s a play and a musical coming up, have you thought about getting involved? You might find that fun and it will give you other things to think about. We can’t bring your dad back, but we can work on giving you something better to do with your life.”  

As a result of Mr. G’s guidance, I became the junior make up artist for “Oklahoma.” As a senior, I auditioned and got a part in “Sound of Music!”  Of all characters, the crabby pants nun, Sr. Berthe was mine! Confidence and happiness strengthened me further. Grades improved. By my senior year, I had made membership to the Honor Society, earning the minimum grade point necessary!  Brag on me! The healing had begun!

My personal accomplishments from that point on have been many. They became the ingredients that have helped make me whole. Who would have thought such a devastating event could turn to joyous blessings? More about this in future writings.

Lessons Learned

God never gives you more than what you can handle. Just as Momma often reminded me, I would get through this. Trust, believe, and God will take care of the rest.

Never be afraid to admit your difficulties and or weaknesses. We all have hurdles to overcome. Some greater than others. Never be afraid to seek out help. Do things in life that help, not hinder your growth.

Thanks for reading!