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!

I have learned over the years that wherever one travels, so too do social expectations and norms. Life is what you make it within these parameters. Some good, some bad, some ugly. It is these chapters that make our stories complete. With that, I introduce you to my latest adventure, “Beer  30”. I prefer to coin this social gathering “Beverage 30” as to tame it’s suggested theme. First, a brief history lesson. How did Beer 30 begin?

In late summer of 2004, Hurricane Charley hit the Gulf side of Florida with a vengeance. Death, devastation, and billions of dollars in damages prevailed. My condo complex had not been spared. Missing windows, roofs and the like were long lost. Owners Babs and Rusty headed up a plan to repair and recover from Charley’s wrath. Saving time, red tape and money, it was accepted that condo association members would come together and complete the necessary reparations.

Throughout the fall, cooperative work teams began in the early morning hours and ended by late afternoon. Many of the women provided support with meals and beverage. Rusty informed his team of workers to report daily to the pool by 3:30 p.m. to share progress and any problems encountered. Rusty provided a case of beer and there you have it. “Beer/Beverage 30” was born!

Today, a Happy Hour of sorts commences daily at poolside. Old friends and new gather for a dose of world events, war stories, family woes and blessings, giggles and of course, beverage. A lovely assortment of Snowbirds come together from the Midwest, East Coast, and Canada. Libations are a must, alcoholic or non, along with a snack or two.

I have spent two seasons with this pack of misfits, comrades, war heroes, and dear friends. The usuals include Babs and Rusty, Maxine and JW, Pippa and Hans, Sandy and Rick, Marcia and Skip and let’s not forget dear friends Kay, Janie and their loving spouses, Tim and Lon. I would be amiss if I did not let in the one and only, Speedo SteveO and his lovely, Miss Sophia. Jokes are shared, secrets revealed and accomplishments celebrated. Two subjects are off limits, religion and politics.

Including myself, there are a few loyal singles that add to the liveliness of clean gossip and banter. Bird, a retired fireman, Debra, a llama farmer, Jungle Jimmer who manages a forest of plants surrounding his condo, and last but not least, our most senior sage for advice, Mr. George. All in all, good times are had and memories made.  We are a family of sorts. Love is alive and well.

Just this season, Babs was surprised by a celebration of her 80+ birthday.  Mr. George celebrated 90+ years of life with his personally designed party. He included a select choice of snacks, Chocolate Vodka and Jagermeister sippers. He continues to celebrate his birthday monthly as, “one never knows.”

Sandy and her loyal guitar provided singalongs. Rusty added random one liner tunes for added entertainment.  Maxine and JW held the gatherings in style with their southern charm, occasional wit and vast knowledge of boating.

Lastly, Beverage 30 was often entertained by the stylish tans and fashions of Speedo SteveO and Miss Sophia. Use your imagination with SteveO’s usual pool attire and I need not say more. Sporting his well-oiled tan and 80+ years, he and Sophia communed with the sun and water as the Beverage 30 gang carried on. In addition, they unknowingly contributed to Beverage 30’s light commentary.

I have learned much from my experiences of Beverage 30. Happy stories of love, marriages, grandchildren, and health victories to name a few. On a more serious note, tales of medical treatments, ailments, and yes, death have tainted the happiness of this family. But this is life in its finest. The good, the bad, and yes, the ugly.

Meeting so many new people have added immensely to my friendship base. I am truly at home here and feel loved. I share a giggle or two and have provided many a “Lucy” moments for their entertainment. Rarely a dull moment, Beer/Beverage 30 will long continue after I am gone. It must. It’s tradition and family!

Lessons Learned

Our lives may change, but family and friends seldom do. The last few years of my life have been renewed in so many ways. Long time friends Kaye and Janie have given me just that. New friends with my Snowbird family and their unending love and acceptance.

Live your life today and enjoy those moments.  All that we have saved for can be gone in a flash. Good health for one. Spend that hard earned dollar. Vacation. Laugh. Love. Become that Snowbird. Enjoy!

Thanks for reading!

Good Calamity.  I have lived this oxymoron since early childhood. Today’s piece is just that. Grab that favorite beverage, a few snacks, your dog, or cozy cover up and enjoy a serving of good calamity. Mid summer, on the farm, sibling fun and of course, Momma at the helm.  Circa, 1960ish.

Early rising of sun and summer were in full swing. The usual breakfast of oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar satisfied our tummies. Momma had inside work and quickly sent us out to begin chores and move on to adventurous fun.  Feed and water the 200+ chicks, slop the pigs, and fill the water tank for our small herd of cattle. Simple enough as our imaginations continued to invent the day.

Following chores, several of us made a trek across the corn field in search of the big one. Water buckets in hand we headed to the county ditch in search of fish, turtles and the like. Frankie had his handmade fishing pole complete with baling twine “fish line “ and hook fashioned from a large diaper pin. His live bait of worms would come from under rocks planted along the ditch banks. Our dreams were full as we shared high hopes of fresh fish or turtle soup for dinner!

It took little time to realize that minnows, slugs and blood suckers were all that inhabited this lakeless experience. Frankie’s pole and hook came in handy, however, as he used them to unlatch blood suckers from our feet and ankles. Dragging our empty containers, we sauntered home barefoot, muddy, and hungry.  Oblivious to our luckless adventure, Claudia picked several bouquets of dandelions for Momma.

After a quick lunch, Frankie hatched a new plan. As Zen and Ang finished up the dishes, Frankie anxiously added, “Hey, let’s go up in the hay loft and swing across the barn. Daddy uses that hay sling and rope for movin the hay, it will be perfect!  The pulleys will send us across the barn real fast! We’ll be a circus!” Good sports and followers, Suzi Q. and I joined in the crazy excitement.

I do not recall any fear or trepidation in climbing the built-in, creaking wall ladders to the top of the barn. We swiped gobs of cobwebs and paid no mind to multi-sized, multi-colored spiders. Dust and bird feathers lay thick as we organized ropes and the old, dangling, rusted pullies.  

Zen took the first move as she courageously hugged the sling. Frankie and I pulled the opposite end of the rope. The ill-used pulley did its job. “JUMP NOW!”, Frankie yelled. Screaming with delight, Zen made the maiden voyage, landing in the hay piled below. We took turns riding and pulling as giggles and screams echoed throughout the empty barn. Before long, we were sweaty, covered in dust, and ready for rinsing off with the garden hose.

Good, creative, calamity was a daily ritual for us crazy eights. Danger seldom entered our minds. As long as we were outside with no bickering, tattling, or injuries, Momma was inside at peace.

Occupied with our daily exploring of unknowns, I often recall Momma quietly writing at the kitchen table. Journaling perhaps? Letters to far away relatives? In actuality she was compiling her recipes from memory. Later, these recipes were shared with family and our church for a community cookbook.

I don’t recall any organized recipes in her kitchen, only large mixing bowls, various baking tins, and 25 to 50 pound bags of flour and sugar. No measuring devices, but a large coffee cup and spoons from the silverware drawer served her well.  Breads, cakes and her many comfort meals were created and presented in flavorful and attractive fashion. “From scratch,” she would confidently state.

As a result, Momma submitted countless recipes to the church.  Our all time favorite was a simple Yellow Cake. It was a staple dessert served with the likes of chocolate pudding, lemon sauce, or fresh strawberries.

I chose to share this most unique creation.  Make certain not to ignore her specific directions. Bon Appetit if you must!

Yellow Cake

2 ½ cups flour

1 ⅔ cup sugar

¾ cup milk

⅔ cup shortening

1 teaspoon salt

3 ½ teaspoons baking powder

½ cup milk plus

1 teaspoon vanilla

3 eggs

Sift flour, sugar and salt together. Stop and pull sand burrs from Suzi’s foot and shut the refrigerator door. Add shortening and cream well. Take squirt gun away from Frankie, answer the telephone. Wrong number again. Tell Zen and Ang to get out of that mud puddle! Get Mikey out of his crib, change his diaper and wash your hands. Add beaten eggs, pick shells out of the batter. Answer the phone again. No, Francie cannot go to Debbie’s. Back to the cake. Again, unhook screen door for Frankie to go you know where. Take Ang’s finger out of cake batter, take mixing spoon from Zen and proceed. Give Mikey a cracker to quiet him. Find a vase for Claudia’s dandelions, take June bug out of Francie’s curly locks and tell Claudia to get Mikey out of the bathroom. Pour batter into  a pan and send it out for the pigs. Buy a cake mix. It’s much easier!

There you have it my friends! Momma at her finest, using a little humor while making the best of every day. I so admired her common sense and ability to make our home and farm run like a fine-tuned machine. Life was not perfect or predictable, however, it was always, always an adventure! Good calamity for sure!

Lessons Learned

There’s no love like that of siblings.  Yes there were spats and rivalries, however, love and camaraderie were much stronger.

Farming was hard work, but we always had time to smile and laugh.  Easily said, easily practiced.

Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.  Theodore Roosevelt said it best and that we did!

As always, thanks for reading!

My first winter in the sunny south included sunning, long walks, beaches, wine/whine hours, and meeting new people. Joining long-time friends, Kaye and Janey made certain I was always included.  We often shared giggles and sips as we leisurely browned, ate, and exercised. Great comrades and memories. An additional activity had piqued my interest. Quilt Guild.

Kaye and Janey were long time guild members and expert quilters. Their beautiful, creative works were nothing but blue ribbon quality. “Seriously Francie, go with us to one of the meetings. You’ll be hooked.” championed Janey. “ We have fun and quilting gives us a purpose and great way to collaborate. Please consider this Friday. The coffee and pastries are yummy too!”

Hmmmmm, coffee and treats? Easily persuaded, I was energized to meet others of like mind and spirit. After all, I did sew. Both daughters received handmade quilts I had stitched and guild was beginning to appeal to me. I agreed to attend one meeting to determine my interest.

Attending the weekly meetings began as delightfully fun. Treats, meeting new friends, sharing trade secrets, and lots of happy, joyous gals. I was eagerly accepted into the fold of stitchers. Joining for a minimal fee, I received the book of bylaws and officially received my permanent name tag. What a fun addition to senior/southern activities.

It did not take long before I wasn’t feeling the groove of guild. These women were extreme in their seriousness of the craft. Each week provided them time to share their current projects. Their works were phenomenal, creative, and one-of-a-kind. I would never come close to their artistry or skill. Before long, designing, sewing, and quilting vocabulary took a backseat to coffee and sweets.

“ Francie, you seem to be losing interest, is that right?” inquired Kaye. “Maybe if you sign on for the Mystery Trip with us, you’ll change your mind.” She was right. I so wanted to like this guild, however, the stitching bug just would not bite.

“Kaye, you have always been my guide and loyal friend. Thanks for sensing my need for more from the guild. I’d like to join you and Janey for the trip.” Signing on, I felt a renewed hope in comradie and kinship.

The following Monday the rented bus arrived.  My mind was filled with excitement as I boarded for the day of mystery.  I imagined and thought. Where were we going on this adventure? An out of town play or concert? Possibly a new lunch spot followed by a museum? Maybe a trip to the local casino for some fun. Oh boy! Sweet Kaye slid in next to me as we shared giggles.

The bus filled, all were accounted for, and the wheels began to roll. Thirty-five giddy, anxious women shared my excitement. No words spoken to hint our destination.  “So Kaye, do you have any idea where we are going? ”

“Oh the usual stops and then lunch,  a few more shops, then home around six tonight.  There will likely be a few contests and raffles along the way. You’ll love it!”

“ A shopping trip? That does sound fun. Are there some big malls nearby?” I asked.

“Not so much Francie. There are so many small quilt shops in the area.  We will probably stop at maybe five or so. Can’t wait to see what kind of deals they will offer us to add to my stash.”  She seemed anxious as she peered about the highway. “I’m trying to figure out where we are stopping first.”

“Quilt shops?  That’s where we’re going today? To look at fabrics?  All five stops? And what’s this stash you mentioned?”  I tried to keep my excitement level close to hers but failed miserably. “Kaye, you’re kidding me, right?” I didn’t know what to think.

“No, Francie, I’m not kidding. This is what the mystery trip is all about. We will stop at two or three shops, have lunch and then check a few more places before we head home. Stash is fabric we buy that we like. There may be a project in mind, there may not. Really, it’s fun to collect. Did you have something else in mind?”

“Ahhh, ah, I wasn’t sure what shops we would go. I had no idea, really”, I fibbed.  Quietly I pondered how I would show excitement for these stops. I had no intent on purchasing any patterns, fabric, or like items. I was not a “collector” of anything, especially stash!

Entering the first two shops was over the top,  Eye-catching. beautiful, hand-crafted quilts adorned the walls. Women were scattered about with intricate works as they stitched on monstrous, complicated machines. I was wowed by their compassion and talent. Not interested in purchasing, I oohed and aahed appropriately. I captured stunning works on my phone. I finished my shopping by spending twenty minutes next door at a coffee shop.

All in all, the mystery trip was everything I didn’t imagine! Shop after shop offered  appealing deals, original quilts of many colors and styles, fabrics beyond imagination, and fun for all. My friends in the stitching world had purchased yards and yards of colorful prints, patterns and the like. I was impressed by the immensity of it all, however, my love for quilting did not change.

Though I have little expertise to become a master quilter, Kaye and Janey continue to create and encourage me. I have completed the required lap quilt for a local disadvantaged individual.  The coffee, pastries and fellowship continue to satisfy me. God bless Kaye, Janey, and all the members of the guild. Completed quilts of your many stashes await in Heaven!

Lesson Learned

Quilting is more than stitching. My idea of a “mystery trip” and that of the guild were not similar by any means. I certainly felt like a buffoon questioning terms as, “fat quarters”,“jelly rolls” and “layer cakes.” These ladies took me under their stitching wings to educate and welcome me. God Bless them all!

Friends are the siblings God never gave us.  (Mencius). Thank you over and over Miss Kaye and Janey. We’ve been friends since 8th grade and still going strong. Love you to quilt pieces!

As always, thanks for reading!

In a previous entry I shared the humorous side of my early online dating experiences.  Whether I was the norm or not, these events have helped reconsider my need for a social/forever/travel (fill in the blank) partner. For now, the plan is to continue this online hoopla until my six month agreement expires.

In the meantime, I am enjoying my second season in the sunny south as a “snowbird”. To acclimate, I have chosen to volunteer in a few areas of interest. Suitable time frames and countless opportunities to  meet others, I hope to develop new friendships. Lighthearted, positive and new. Ca Sera Sera.

My church of worship had planned a holiday dinner for the community. A wonderful outreach and great way to share my volunteer efforts. The day arrived and I was given 2 festive tables to serve dinner with all the fixings.  Another person would assist me. He was a gentleman by the name of Les.

“So nice to meet you my lady. Are you new here?  I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Les and well ah, I’m a single man.”

Equipped with a smile, I carelessly replied, “Well, well yes, I am new here and golly, I’m single too! My name is Francine.” We shook hands and exchanged mutual smiles.

“Single and new you say? After serving today, can I entertain you for a glass of red wine? It’s my afternoon ‘tea’”. Les chuckled and provided a slight wink.

Ever so naive, I quipped, “Well now that’s a possibility. Let me think about it.”

Jeeez! Where had I left my brain? Is there a shoe in my mouth?  I’m here to volunteer and serve. Lord, get me out of this mess I’ve started.

We immediately busied ourselves with the many hungry guests. Prayers of thanks were heard at a number of tables as the room quietly filled. What a blessed feeling I had in helping to provide for someone else’s needs.

A slight tap to my back introduced me to another face. “Hi there, John here. I’m working the two tables next to you. I see Les is your partner. You gotta watch him, he’s very single and always hittin on women.” John was an average build, kind eyed man apparently looking out for me. “Just thought you should know,”  he smiled.

“Hello John, I’m Francine and I attend church here. Les is my partner, and I just met him today. He said he attends here too. Thanks for the heads up regarding his friendliness.”  Hmmm, lots of friendly men here. Maybe I need to quit making eye contact and smiling so much.

“Ah Francine, we have a meal coming after we’re done serving today. Would you like to join me at a table? I’ll be your buffer if Les gets pushy.” John was smooth moving and I simply chuckled.

“John, that would be nice, thank you for asking.” I nodded and returned to my tables and guests.

Upon taking guest orders, Les and I made our way to the kitchen to pick up meals. Small talk while we waited. Dinner was in full swing. Just as I turned from the kitchen with my tray loaded with plates, I was stopped by gentleman number three.

“Whoa, looks like you could use some help. I’m Randy and let me take one of those plates from you.” he smiled.

“Thanks Randy, but I think I’ve got this. It’s not heavy.” I assured him.

“No, here, let me help. I see by your tag that you are Francine, right? Are you a member here, you don’t look familiar?”

Oh boy, now what? Was I wearing some invisible sign saying, ‘Talk to me, I’m new and I’m single?” This situation had never occurred to me before. I could not help but giggle inside.

The day of giving began to wane. Randy continued to assist each time I loaded up my tray with meals. We chatted between runs as I learned he was actively involved with the church and welcomed my presence. He was happily married and a pleasure to meet. A new friend. The real deal.

As guests finished their meal, all volunteers settled for dinner and fellowship. I joined John and four others. Les was among them. We blessed our meal and joined in small talk. As we ended our day, Les exited with no mention of our afternoon tea. Blunder on my part averted. Thank you God!

Before I could get up to leave, John leaned in and whispered, “I just lost my wife recently and it’s hard to meet women. I get lonely, but I don’t think I’m ready for this dating thing. Would you ever like to just go out for a coffee sometime?” His eyes had a sadness to them as I patted his arm.

“That would be nice John. As friends. Yes, that would be nice. I’ll see you in church on Sunday.”

Lessons Learned

To make a friend, you must first be a friend. It has always been easy for me to talk to others and make friends. I smile often, establish eye contact and make others comfortable. These gentlemen were doing the same. They were the real deal.

Embrace calm and just breathe.  I so often have to remind myself that I am no longer a teenager. It seems that too much imagination and giddiness surround me! But then again, I wouldn’t be Francine!

Thanks for reading!

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!