Showing posts from March, 2014

March 31, 2014: A Grandma Lost

Grandma Gib would have been 96 years old yesterday. With our age spread of exactly fifty years, I have always remembered her age with ease.
We lost Grandma three years ago. But her loved ones felt her loss long before her death. The horrible disease of Alzheimer's afflicted our Grandma. We slowly watched her lose her memory. By her death, Grandma had lost recognition of the family she loved so dearly.
From a health standpoint, she was relatively comfortable in her final years. It was Grandma's family who were left to feel the pain.
An strange twist happened as the illness overtook her mind. She became incredibly witty. Although Grandma had a sense of humor pre-Alzheimer's, she had become down right funny. As her mind forgot, her quick tongue picked up the slack. Her comic tone made us laugh out loud while we mourned inside.
Grandma had us crying in laughter on many occasions with her funny comments and comedic timing. I sometimes asked myself if Grandma really had Alzheim…

March 25, 2014: A Little Job

My oldest son, Zach, was in need of a side job. With the resourceful assistance of my Aunt Kathy, we quickly filled his plate. Mounds of photo albums and stacked photographs that have been neglected in my basement were in desperate need of scanning and organizing. Kathy and I laid out a plan to conquer the project. And Zach? Definitely at the right place at the right time.

After getting past the mother/son work-together-rub with Kathy's careful intervention, Zach hit the ground running. And although we have barely skimmed the ice berg, the result so far has already brought on many smiles.

I have been the family historian; capturing our collective lives in picture taking, written journals, scrapbooks, saved treasures, and now a blog. My basement is full of these collected memorabilia. Taking a walk down memory lane by viewing these mementos always brings a smile.

On his first attempt at super-scanning, Zach successfully scanned 287 photos spanning the last three months of 1997. Be…

March 23, 2014: Everyone Needs a Ben Lane

Last week I ran into Skutt High School in answer to a desperate plea from Ben. The nice ladies at the front desk know me well. Too well. This is my second son to go through Skutt and this last minute run into school was not my first rodeo.

In running tights and a stocking cap at 8:00 a.m., I presented myself and the goods requested by Ben to these fine ladies of Skutt.

"Well, hello, Mrs. Lane. What brings you in this morning?" was their greeting to me.

Obvious in their tone was that my parental presence was not a surprise. I handed over a signed permission slip for a Senior Studies jail visit that day. I went on to explain how Ben asked me at 7:30 a.m. to write on the back of an old envelope that he had my permission to go to the jail. I suspected this wouldn't cut it. It didn't.

The second part of the request was cash required for lunch on the field trip and a granola bar for him as he decided to give blood that morning. As I attempted to explain the items being ha…

March 16, 2014: A Thoughtful Spot

Packing for Denver this weekend took on a whole new dimension. There was a different kind of excitement then our usual get-away weekends. This weekend we moved into a new house. A second home. The Omaha home stays, but a Denver home has been added. Our new chapter into married life.

Moving is not something I have done often in my forty-six years. In fact, I can count on my hand the number of homes I have had in my lifetime. No nomad existence for me. So having another house with my name on the title is a big deal and not one I take lightly.

Friday, I rushed home mid-morning to pack a bag in a way I had never packed before. What to take to fill my thoughtful spot? What clothes and jewelry to import to a new home in Denver? With an empty carry-on bag staring at me from my bed top, I pondered these important questions.

It didn't take me long to run through the house and grab those items that tugged at my heartstrings as "must haves" in a place that will be called my home.

March 9, 2014: Friendship

I saw on FaceBook that a friend's elderly father had passed away. Although I hadn't seen her dad in years, the posted pictures and obituary brought back fond memories. The Ferrara's have been very good to me over the course of the last twenty-five years.

Although I would consider myself a casual friend of this big brood, some friendships have run deeper; dependent on the time placement within our life cycles. The posted reflections gave me a life look-back on my own interactions with the family.

I moved to Omaha in May of 1989. Other than a handful of Scott's family, I knew no one. We lived with his grandparents that first summer and I worked downtown at Kiewit. Since Scott had attended college for two years at UNO, he had some friends that we soon made arrangements to meet.

We moved to Omaha on a Sunday. I started work on a Monday and by Tuesday night, we went to a slow-pitch softball game to meet up with some of Scott's buddies. As I joined a bleacher full of st…

March 7, 2014: Day Five

Day Five. I am on Day Five of being down with the flu. That's a long time. A least, for me.

When I woke up feeling ill Monday morning, I convinced myself it was just a cold setting in. I would work from home in the morning, nurse the cold, and be back to normal by lunch. Not so much.

It soon became apparent that I was fighting a bug and likely the flu. By bedtime, I was miserable. My favorite physician's assistant advised on liquids and sleep. Not much more you can do with the flu, she told me. So I have been drinking lots of water and laying low. Being a rule-follower, I am following her advice.

My favorite physician's assistant also told me that it would take me a week to get better. I didn't believe her.

I always get better sooner than most. My ACL doctor told me I was his favorite kind of patient. My recuperation period was dreamy. This made me glow with pride. Exactly what I wanted to be; the patient given the big bright star. Rule follower.

So why won't the …

March 3, 2014: Restroom Monologues

I just got back from a glorious, whirlwind weekend to Chicago. It was a boys and moms (and aunt) trip. The crowning event of this now-annual excursion is enjoying a Blackhawks game.

As we planned this trip back in February, the boys pushed for the March 1st game. I paid little attention as they grew excited talking about the NHL Stadium Series. The hockey game against the Penguins was to be played at Soldier Field. And, yes, that is an outside venue.

Their enthusiasm was contagious as I jumped on the Lane boys' bandwagon of wanting to score these coveted tickets. I reasoned that the weather should be fine. It was March, so what were the chances of bad weather? I assumed low. I was gravely wrong.

It was cold. Bone-chilling cold. We sat front and center in the middle of a Midwestern snow storm. Without movement on our ice-cold seats, we slowly froze. The Zamboni couldn't keep up with the accumulation. The man next to me couldn't drink his beer fast enough before frost set i…