Recently moving to the west side of Michigan I found myself searching for a warm, adequate living space, new friends, a church and a few volunteer opportunities. The choices were endless. As a result, a one-bedroom apartment became my nest, friendships blossomed, and the largest Methodist church in the city welcomed me with open arms. A new life was comfortably shaping my rebirth.

This particular Methodist church has its roots deeply planted in the city. Large in stature and members, it became easy to find my place as a contributing member. Social justice, equality, and community outreach continue as primary focuses. My table, so to speak, had been set.

Fast forward two years. Another spring morning was upon us. Seven a.m. had arrived. Cold rain teased as she continued to spit in our faces. A bitter breeze slapped our necks and open jackets. Homeless, indigent, and well-worn they came. They quietly huddle for physical and emotional warmth. A small slice of hope will be offered for the taking. Today was Jobs Tuesday. I was there to help serve the table.

On this cloudy, chilled morning, close to 60 men and women arrive for the random draw at a chance to work at 12 different jobs sites within walking distance.  Several downtown churches, shelters, and social agencies provide two-hour working slots to this needy gathering. Jobs Tuesday helps to provide a paid workforce of a local neighborhood by funding short term work for those homeless or living in poverty.

Today, 38 jobs will be available. Legal identification and a willingness to work are the minimal requirements. Dignity and respect are exchanged effortlessly. God is ever present. For today, a hot cup of coffee, reciting the “Our Father” and $20.00 in cash will serve their souls and pockets — no questions asked. Workplaces and workers all benefit.

I have come to know many of the regulars. A few have actually become volunteers themselves with our church’s mission to reach out. Meet Leon, who stands over six feet tall, carries his broad shoulders and empty clipboard proudly. He knows “his people” and serves as mentor, cheerleader, and sometimes crowd controller. In addition, he proudly serves on the local Coalition for Handicapped Individuals. Community awareness and involvement are his strengths as he joyfully serves and advocates for peers and himself.

Teddy shows weekly as the group’s comedian. Light laughter is never hindered. His cheerful smile and disposition provide calm and reassurance to the needy hearts and minds of his peers.  He seldom forgets to remind us church members that he is available every Sunday to take the week’s offering to the bank. “Just give me a call, and I’ll be there.” With a quick wink and wry smile, Teddy fills our Tuesday cup of humor.

I would be amiss if I didn’t include Samuel, the leader of this reach out program.  A true gentle and gracious man, Samuel makes Jobs Tuesday a full time effort. Weekly visits to local shelters, social service agencies and the like, he knows the city and its people well. Many of the needy and homeless look to him for a guiding light, encouraging word,

or basic survival advice. I have found Samuel humble, thankful, and truly a server of God.

It has been almost two years since I first volunteered at Jobs Tuesday. Each week is a new awakening within me. Giving of my time is minimal compared to the wealth of satisfaction I receive in return.

Lessons Learned

Ironically, I have discovered something about human nature as well. Nearly 200 years ago, many of these underserved individuals were serving my table, without choice, an unfortunate artifact of their race, ethnicity or personal circumstance. Their personal lives were controlled and dignity was rare. Today, I choose to serve them at their table. Dignity, respect, and encouragement are my gifts to them. God has blessed me over and over. I love my church family and its commitment to community.

God, continue to bless these loving, lonely souls and those of Jobs Tuesday.  Amen.

Thanks for reading!

“Hello, Francine. How’s it going?”  Earl was a senior whose locker was adjacent mine. He stood well above my puny, flat chested body. Although shy, he was known to be kind and sincere not to mention the ace pitcher for the varsity baseball team.

“Ah, Hi, Earl;” I meekly replied. Boys did not directly speak to me. At 17, I continued to be unappealing to the opposite sex. “ I’m doing good I guess. How are you?” I was not off to a good start. A quick “see ya”, and we were on to class. My heart raced…… What was that all about?

As the school day ended, I returned to my locker to retrieve homework.  Earl, nervously leaned against the locker sporting his chipped tooth smile and baseball jersey, “So, um, Francie, how was the rest of your day and would you like to go to the prom with me? Ahh, you can say no, but Father Stine thought you would be a good girl to ask because you come from a good family. Oh and I gotta get to practice, so just think about  it would you? I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

Off he dashed.  A ten second whirlwind of one sided conversation had me without  control. Did I just get ask out on a date? By a boy? And did I just get asked to the PROM?  I don’t really know Earl! What would my girlfriends Kaye and Janey have to say? What would Momma think? Was Earl just kidding?  I headed for the bus. This girl’s got more than Algebra to think about!

Kaye and Janey were ecstatic. “Gen, you lucky star, Earl is so nice. You can’t say no. Just say yes, and everything will fall in place,” they added.  I wasn’t so sure.

When I told Momma, she slowly smiled and took a chair.  “Looks like my girl is getting noticed. Earl’s a good Catholic boy and you should go to his senior prom. It’s probably his first date, but it will be yours as well. Go Francie. I can’t wait to whip up a dress just for you……no hand-me-downs for this girl of mine!”

How can one be terrified and excited at the same time?  My first date and possibly my last. I needed to get additional advice from my seasoned sisters, Claudia and the twins, Ang and Zenia. They could provide me the needed courage to make this social event successful. All three had more experience with the opposite sex than I could only imagine. In summary they agreed, “ Just be yourself, have things to talk about, and look pretty.” These commandments would be easy enough to obey I hoped.

Prom night was abuzz. My curly locks had been straightened, teased and sprayed wig-like by the only hairdresser in town, Miss Agnes. She was a peach as she offered to “give me a touch of makeup”.  I kindly declined and let Ang’s expertise tackle my pimpled, white, complexion.

Momma had made the perfect dress for my 32AA.  A pastel green, dotted swiss gown was accented with daisies she had carefully placed and attached to the skirt. The empire waist was highlighted with a buttery yellow satin ribbon.  I loved this dress and felt like a princess.

Earl arrived and joining him was best friend, Kevin. Ang would be his date as we doubled for “Paris in the Springtime”.  Pinky promise as she agreed to serve as my savior at any awkward moment. Corsages and boutineers were cautiously pinned in place, pictures were snapped, and we were off for the night.  

Earl was driving the family car.  Our limo was their 1966 Ford Fairlane station wagon, shiney and enhanced with wood-like panels! Clean as a whistle, an intense fragrance of English Leather with a faint of dairy barn greeted us.  This would be fun, I cautiously promised myself.

Dinner was served in the high school cafeteria followed by dancing in the gymnasium. Paris had made its presence and I was dreaming. The longer we danced, the easier our first date became. Slow dancing was most difficult as we obviously had little experience. We giggled, held each other pensively, often stepping on each other’s toes. “Bridge Over Troubled Water” was all I remembered.

Midnight had arrived and our time in Paris was fading. Earl and Kevin suggested we stop by The Bonanza. A 24-hour establishment , it was known for the biggest and best banana splits. Calm began to take over my insecure, foolish thoughts.

The boys gulped cheeseburgers, fries and heaps of ice cream.  Ang and I split a vanilla shake and fries. Talk was trivial and the night was finishing up to be rather uneventful.  Ang continued to keep me in her sight.

As Earl escorted me to the car, he suggested I move nearer him to be closer to the heater. Shivering in nervous excitement, I slid in place accordingly. Ang and Kevin took their places in the back. Earl started the car, adjusted the radio to a country station and ever so casually placed his right arm around my shoulders.  Yikes! I was like a fish out of water! I had to remind myself to calm. After all, Earl was just being friendly! Ang immediately came to the rescue…….

“Ahhhhh, Earl. Could you turn down that radio? It’s a little loud back here.”

Earl removed his arm, tuned the radio , and ever so slowly resumed its place on my shoulder. I froze. This was awkward. I was not feelin the like here. Keeping his composure intact, Earl whistled to Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues”.

“Ahhh, Earl, do you have any gum?” I asked.  

“Sure do Francie, how bout some Juicy Fruit?  It’s my favorite.” Earl again maneuvered his right arm, slipped the gum from his pocket and offered us each a piece. Kind, considerate, and smiling. Earl and his limo took on a new aroma;  English Leather with a touch of fruity dairy barn. I began to giggle inside. His arm gently returned. Just breathe, I reminded myself. No harm, no foul.

“Ahhhh, Earl, could you turn up the heat?  It’s getting chilly back here.” Ang added her final lifesaver. Once again, Earl disengaged his arm and adjusted the heat. God bless sissy.

The night ended and Earl was the perfect gentleman. He walked me to the door and shyly stated, “Thanks for making my senior prom and first date memorable. I had fun and hope you did too.” With that, we hugged and I was free to breathe. Earl was likely feeling the same.

Reflecting on this night of anxiousness, I am embarrassed at my needless worries. My confidence was not as mature. My self-image was insecure.  Humor and Ang were my saving graces.

Earl and I did not date again. He went on to college , graduated and successfully became a pitcher for three major league teams. During his third season of organized ball, Earl sent me an autographed picture of himself as a Detroit Tiger. “To Francine,  Love Earl”. God bless Earl and his genuine heart.

Lessons Learned

Growing up is hard to do.  Self-doubt, insecurities, peer pressure. All add up to the frustrations of adolescence.

Inhale, conquer your fears, and enjoy the moment. So many initial experiences in life can seem overwhelming and awkward, especially for a teen.  As a teacher of high school students for over 35 years, I was determined they would not feel inadequate or pressured to fit in. Just inhale…..exhale……and breathe.

Life is for living! I learned this long after being a teenager. Live and love your life!  Amen I say. Amen!

Thanks for reading!

During one’s lifetime, a myriad of experiences cross and enter our paths of journey. Some are memorable and others….not so much. Today’s piece includes one chapter from my life as a Yooper. For any of you unfamiliar with this term, a native or inhabitant of the Upper Peninsula or U.P. (“Yoo-pee”) of Michigan can often be referred to as a Yooper. Git yer Swampers and Toboggan on and with a “Holy-wah,”  here’s your U. P. adventure!

Retirement from a teaching career, room mother, child chauffeur, and the like had christened my soul.  It became apparent that settling in the big city was not a dream imagined. Our daughters had graduated from college, married, and secured homes far from their Michigan roots.  I was ready for trading spaces so to speak. The city girl in me was jonesin’ for a quiet, peaceful, step back in time lifestyle. The desolate confines of Yooperland, however, were not on my radar.

My former spouse had spent his youth hunting, fishing and enjoying country comforts of northern Michigan. He had a strong desire to return to that lifestyle upon retirement. When a likely possibility of moving northward looked imminent, I took a deep breath, recited over and over, “In good times and bad,……….” and made the leap for the unknown: Land of the Yooper, the Upper Peninsula of Michigan!

Ever positive, the air was fresh and welcoming. New home, new friends, new chapter. In my most positive spirit, I would learn to love two seasons of this northern experience:  winter and hunting.

Halloween was blessed with the first flakes as Mother Nature kissed pumpkins and scarecrows. Awed by the beauty of this gentle, peaceful life, I was getting used to a nightly fire in the woodstove, comfort foods, and becoming one with nature. The snows came, came, and came. Pretty white adorned pines and creek beds in a perfect calendar shot. Winter was shaping up to be a perfect postcard.

As hunting season rolled in, former husband spent countless hours preparing and sitting patiently in deer hot spots. His expert skills with a bow would be challenged. I was about to experience his first venison victory.

Late December. Nearly midnight. Full moon. Temps in the teens. Snow glistened while gently falling. A most beautiful sight. Sweet words entered the house, “ I got a big one! I need help following the blood trail and bringin it in!”  My heart pounded with some sort of crazy excitement. “Get suited up, it’s gonna take a while.”

With knee-high boots, snowmobile suit, stocking hat, hand and foot warmers, I gloved up for the adventure. Quickly we hopped on the four-wheeler and headed to tag the prize. The evening was serene despite the squeaky snow as we made for the woods. I could hear my heartbeat.

Flashlights in hand, we quickly located the kill sight and trail.  I was to remain in the quad as the engine’s heat would keep me warm. Minutes passed as the deer was located in a small thicket. “I got it! Come on Francine, and don’t forget the flashlight! You’re going to help me dress it out!”  Nervous excitement, round two.

Awkwardly, I jumped from the four-wheeler. Boom! What a surprise when my feet sank into the virgin snow. Several inches had turned to feet and I was up to my waist in the pretty white! “Francine, are you okay?  I’m right over here.”

“I’m coming. Just a little deep, but I can do this,” supporting my cheerful self.

Whoa! I could not move. Up to my hips in snow, my feet were slowly sinking into a swampy muck. A big push from my thighs, I flung myself head first into the mound of white! My knees buckled, the flashlight flew, as the boots remained in the muck. I was not going anywhere and neither were my boots!

Said spouse came to put me back together. This was most obviously a “Lucy/Ricky” moment. Huffing and puffing, we trudged to claim his venison victory.

Llighter and easier to haul, we would field dress, aka, gut the deer. Flashlight in hand, I would provide needed light for the skillful execution. Gloved up to his shoulders, spouse began to sharpen his knife proudly. Lucy was losing her zest for Ricky’s excitement.

As he cut, my head moved to the side, avoiding the view. So too, did the flashlight! “Hey, don’t be movin on me. Keep your eyes and light focused on the deer! We don’t have a lot of time here. Can’t you hear those coyotes? They’re onto us.”

I forced my courage to get the job done. “In good times and in bad…..” reminded me why I was there. The snow continued to fall. The moon continued to shine. The coyotes hastened our short trek home.

All in all, this northern exposure experience will never be forgotten. I did my best. Supportive wife, “In good times and in bad” lived on. The snows continued to be pretty white and the wood stove provided many warm nights. By Mother’s Day the last flakes had made their exit to usher in spring and a most shortened summer.

I lived in Yooperland six years. Quiet and nature can be a beautiful thing. Desolation, however, is another matter. Been there, done that and proud I had this experience. God bless the true Yoopers!

Lessons Learned

Patience is truly a virtue. It took all that I had to make this living experience one of good. Everyday was something new and often exciting. I made great friends, learned a lot about myself, and survived five years longer than I first expected.

Upper Peninsula living is not for everyone. Pockets of beauty and awe surround this often lonely land. It takes a unique individual to survive and enjoy year round living in da Yoo-pee.

Thanks for reading!

Well into my third year of teaching high school students, those identified with various academic, emotional and physical disabilities continued to be my charge. These darling misfits were not protected from following the school’s discipline policy. Many had their share of deviant, often senseless behavior referrals to the Dean’s office. I served as their negotiator, parent, and often, referee. Being a woman with an all male administration worked both ways. Today would be no exception.

First and foremost, I must introduce you to an ever-favorite student, Sammy. Soaking wet, Sammy likely weighed a mere 90 pounds. His height of just under 5 foot served him well. Saucer like crystal blue eyes, he was a blonde haired lad you couldn’t help but like. Often picked on, he stood up to any and everyone using his wit.

Called to the office via the school’s intercom, I made a mad dash to yet another crisis. Who, what, and why ran through my spinning head. Entering the Dean’s office, who should appear but Sammy, his counselor Mr. Burns, and Dean Hawthorne. No smiles but mine appeared as Sammy sat stiffly at attention.

“Mrs. Soandso, the reason you are called here is because of a little conflict caused by your student, Sammy. Isn’t that right, Sammy?” barked Mr. Hawthorne. My smile immediately left as sternness replaced my look. “Sammy, tell Mrs. Soandso why you are here. Go ahead, we will not interrupt.”

Sammy gazed sheepishly around the office. When we made eye contact, Sammy blushed while a nervous snicker popped. “Sammy, explain very clearly to Mrs. Soandso what brought you here today.” added Mr. Burns. “And don’t miss any details.”

Clearing his throat, Sammy began to sputter, “Welllllll, it kinda went like this. I was early to Algebra and took my seat, I’m good at bein late, but today I was on time. ‘Cool, I thought, Mrs. Cooke will be happy about that.’  Anyway, the guys around were teasin me about some of the girls as they walked in, you know, like guys like to do.” Sammy began to show a little anxiousness and stalled.

“Go on,” demanded Dean Hawthorne. “This is your story and you have to own it.” Looking over his glasses, he proceeded pat his ever-present paddle.

“Ah, well, ah, this girl like, walks in. I can’t remember her name but she’s not very pretty and she’s kinda full, ya know. Oh yeah, her name was Lulu.” Sammy sputtered. “Anyway, the guys dared me to talk to her, and I didn’t know what to say, so, so,,,,”

“Sammy, speak loud and clear so all of us can hear what you said to her. Come on now, what did you say?” interrupted Counselor Burns.

“Well, I didn’t say anything. I just………”

“You did what, Sammy?” asked Dean H. “Go ahead, share with Mrs. Soandso.”

“Oouwoooooooo, Oouwoooooo, that’s what I did Mrs. Soandso. Ya, I went like, Oouwooooooo. Yip, yip.”

“You, umm, you howled like a dog, Sammy?” I pensively inquired. I wanted to laugh, but the trio would not be joining me. Both men and Sammy sat there staring at me with sullen faces.

“Yes, Mrs. Soandso, I barked at Lulu and everybody laughed except Mrs. Cooke. She pulled me and Lulu in the hall and made me apologize. Lulu accepted and all was good. Then she gave me a referral slip. So here I am.”

Sammy’s head was nearly between his knees as he let out a sigh followed by a huge laugh! Dean Hawthorne and Counselor Burns joined in on the hilarity. I was had!

No harm done as these men made the attempt to humor my daily task of keeping my misfits in school and out of trouble. Peer pressure to fit in had given Sammy one more reason to use his humor as acceptance.

From that point on, Mr. Hawthorne and counselor Burns lovingly called me, “FFBD”. It would be just the three of us that shared my new pet name. The humor and love I received from peers and teens helped sustain my 36 years in the classroom. And, FFBD? What does that stand for you might ask?  Fran,Fran,Barking Dog!

Yes, lovingly,  FFBD is a constant reminder of the humor and love it took for me to survive everyday as a teacher and advocate of teenage undesirables. I chose not to see them as such.  These teens were and continue to be my true loves.

Lessons Learned

Love what you do and do what you love.  Need I say more?  I enjoyed many more up days than down. Ever grateful to make a difference with so many young minds. They certainly made a difference with mine!

Humor is good medicine.  If it were not for my sense of humor and that of my staff, many students would not have gotten the golden ticket, their diploma. Lightheartedness and laughter were and continue to be my best antidotes.

Thanks for reading!

Everyday life on the farm was an adventure. With seven lively siblings, friend and foe were never the same. If one was on the outs with Momma, Daddy, or any kin, a comrade among the bunch could always be secured. The Crazy Eights lived in love, trust, and mischief.

This blog entry will be dedicated to dear, know-it-all, Queen Oldest, Miss Claudia. Barely one year older than myself, Claudia reigned and often reminded all she was the boss. The first to go to school, the first to have a new bike, the first to drive a car, and the first to have a boyfriend. She certainly set the tone for me to compete and achieve. Reasonable aspirations. Lofty goals. My challenges became endless.

One such memory I have of dear Claudi was during her sophomore year. She had secured a crush with Carl, a junior. Having asked her to the Harvest Moon Dance, she was all aflutter and in like with handsome C. Prior to the dance, she cautioned me not to interfere or “mess up” her first and most memorable date.

“ Remember that Carl is my date to the dance. When we are at school and together in the hall, DO not to run into us. AND don’t try being silly.  You will embarrass us and yourself.” Claudi was adamant as she continued to reign her authority.

Jeepers, creepers I thought. I can’t even have a little fun with this. I certainly didn’t have a date, so what did I have to lose?

Claudia excitedly prepared herself for a night with Prince Charming. She visited the local dry goods store and purchased a few yards of a soft, pink, brocaded taffeta. Momma would design and stitch a perfect dress for Miss Cinderella.  Additionally, she cut the lining from an old coat and whipped up a small, furry cape to accompany the dress. Claudi was beautiful and perfect for the ball.

As Carl dropped by to pick up his date, I remained behind the camera lens to snap appropriate pictures. Pinning on the flowers, smiles one and all and nervous giggles, I had captured them. “Remember your midnight curfew and have fun! “ were Momma’s last bits of advice.

As I smiled for her happiness, there was a small ache in my heart. Puny, flat, frizzy and dateless, I was spending this night home with six siblings. But alas, Momma was busying  herself at the stove. Caramel corn, Fresca, and Scrabble to the rescue! My alone time with Momma was guaranteed!

Yes, most weekend nights, Momma and I would enjoy popcorn, soda, and at least three games of Scrabble. We could not use three letter words until the game’s end and a dictionary was always in sight. When tiles seemed difficult, Momma would pull my letters into view and I  discovered the magic of her vocabulary. As I remained dateless, she was my best friend!

Midnight neared, I said my goodnights to Momma  and headed upstairs to join my sisters in bed. To my surprise, they were not asleep. “Shhhhh, Francie. We’re gonna pull a trick on Carl and Claudi.” whispered Zenia.

Ten year-old Suzi Q chirped, “Ya, we’re gonna peek out the window and watch ‘em kiss in the car!”

Giggles ensued as Ang secured the curtains. We tiptoed to the window as Carl pulled in the drive.  “Just in time,” Zen whispered. “Nobody move, just peek.”

We leaned into the curtain and parted it ever so slowly. Four pairs of eyes, heavy breathing, and muffled giggles ensued. No foggy windows to witness.  No kissing was seen! We had been caught and denied! Princess Claudia had not failed to plan.

Little did we know,  Mr. Charming had always stowed a blanket in his car. He and Cinderella ever so carefully secured it in the front passenger window of the chariot.  Their night at the ball ended happily ever after, without an audience.

All in all, in control Claudia insured her reign once again. She would never be tricked or fooled. To this day, she remains the Queen of siblings and is often the go-to for advice and guidance. Claudia is the boss!

And Carl?  In like quickly turned to love. Today they continue a strong, committed, and loving marriage. Prince Charming and Cinderella, a blessed couple, live the true gift of “happily-ever-after.”  God Bless them over and over.

Lessons Learned

The oldest sibling has its advantages.  Sister Claudia set the tone for knowledge, experience and many firsts. I’m not so sure I would have been so confident as she coveted her title and wore it well.

Be patient, your time will come.  I seemed ever so impatient with my ability to fit in with peers.  Popularity, dating, attractiveness became elusive and I believed such hogwash! Let time take its course and love who you are. The rewards are worth the wait!

Thanks for reading!