Tales of the Ordinary Days

Selfie attempt at Hy-Vee to memorialize Matt's last purchase as a Nebraska resident (note that Matt was supposed to be in the picture) My brother, Matt, moved out of Omaha this morning. He began his 20 hour road trip to Kingman, Arizona at about 5:30 a.m. With car loaded to the hilt and fresh off of a going-away party from last night, there were few words between us. Just a quick hug and wave. And then he was gone. Life changes just keep marching on in my life and this is another biggie. My brothers and I grew up close in age and close in life. Matt is the oldest and I am the youngest. There is only 28 months between our birthdays with our brother, Mark, born in between. Being so close in age, we shared friends, teachers and experiences through our childhood years. I have often said that birth order rules don't apply to us. There is one thing the three of us share and that is a sense of humor. We fought our way through childhood, constantly trying to outwit each o...

And the road trip begins... Purportedly I'm bossy. But that's coming from my brother. So what if I like the car at optimal temperature while we travel across Nebraska? It's not my fault that his car doesn't have a good temperature between really cold and really hot. If you feel it, say it. So when I was cold, I told him. And when I was hot, I did the same. It's his car, so climate control is his responsibility. But he just gave me the stink eye as we traveled west across Nebraska on Interstate 80. Acting like we annoy each other, but loving every minute of our time together on the road. Eight hours. Three comfort stops. Two thunderstorms. And his daughter (my niece), Ky, sleeping in the back seat through it all. Matt and I just bantered in the front. Just like old times. I love road trips. Especially with family. When Matt and Ky decided to visit us in Denver for the weekend and Matt asked that I join them for the drive out, I was all in. With my oldest ...

Next week is Spring Break for Grant. And he's spending the week in Denver with his brother, Zach. Although going to Denver wasn't a surprise, spending the whole week was a late-breaking development. Months ago we planned a weekend in Denver that including friends from Omaha. Recently as I was mapping out details of the trip, Grant looked at me confused. "I'm only going for the weekend?" With my confirmation of this being fact, Grant said nothing with a hint of disappointment in the air. Last weekend, I was going through the same detail mapping with Zach. Completely independent of Grant, his response was near the same. "Why can't he come for longer? Isn't he off all week? He can play my X-Box and hang out while I'm at school. And then he can hang out with me at night." Feeling tag teamed, I paused a bit over an idea that escaped my planning brain. Yet it didn't escape the thoughts of my bookend sons. After some circling ...

My brothers...Christmas shenanigans 1986 My kids are now adults and an almost-adult. With this rite of passage comes a new way of thinking and planning Christmas. Although kind-hearted, I know my eldest, at his ripe age of 21, is as concerned with friends' home on break and which party everyone will be at, as he is our family Christmas. Reality: He is more concerned with the former. My eighteen year-old is just as happy spending time with his girlfriend and her family as our gift opening by my Christmas tree. I'm pretty sure the former wins out again. And then there is my youngest son, fourteen year-old Grant. Gift buying and wrapping are now an afterthought. Cookie decorating is out. Hanging out with friends; definitely in. Last year, Grant was still a bit fresh in the Christmas frolic. The dawning of a new age has become apparent with his high school years beginning. Christmas looks totally different this year. Although the tree is glowing and decorations are up...

Love abound? Probably not... Cleaning up my e-mail archives, I stumbled on a story my mom shared with my nephew and then later shared with me. My first ordinary day as the little sister... Sandy Wagner: home from the hospital 9/16/67 Dear Josh, Aunt Sandy turned 46 years old last Friday, the 13th. After getting home from the hospital on the 16th, I laid Sandy on the sofa and called Matt & Mark to come in the house from the backyard. Babysitters Gma & Gpa Gib were going on and on about our new pink bundle of joy while both boys walked very carefully to investigate what warranted so much attention. They got real close to her face for a really good look. Who to blame? I don't remember, but someone flipped the top of the blanket over Sandy's face. No longer interested and impatient to play again, they left the room to go back outside. I wish I could describe Gma Gib's reaction and Gpa Gib's laugh. Gma Gib was a little less complementary a few minutes lat...

Me and my brothers (and yes, two of us were later recipients of braces) I think I have mentioned this before in my blogs. I grew up with brothers. Painful at times, but fun most times. I do know that I have thicker skin because of it. At a young age I was taught the art of fighting back physically, and mouthing back when Mom wasn't listening. I could scrap and hold my own with the best of them. I climbed trees and skinned my knees while battling to keep up with my older brothers and their friends. The forever little sister. I am now going to confess things my mother didn't know. Mom's typical response to our fighting and verbal sparring was very standard. "You three need to work out your problems on your own." A true travesty in today's culture of the forever helicopter mom. But she kept her word. We really did have to work it out on our own. There were great life lessons learned and I had bruises to prove it. Now confession time. Sorry in advanc...

My brothers...Mark (far left) and Matt (far right) Their best friend from childhood, Rich, is appropriately in the middle Tonight was Date Night. A beautiful spring night in Omaha. Garrett and I enjoyed sushi and libations on the patio of Blue in Legacy. The conversation and stories were top notch. Date nights are sacred to us. With time as our most valuable asset, we are bucky about budging for superseding plans. From boyfriend and girlfriend to husband and wife, Thursday nights are always booked. Locked and loaded. This afternoon, prior to Date Night, I enjoyed some personal conversation with a business colleague. Somehow we got on the subject of dating. My friend commented on a man she had dated for a short period that seemed to have it all; looks, smarts, success. But he lacked something that my friend couldn't initially put her finger on. He was boring. On paper he looked divine, but on a date; a complete bore. She missed the banter. The playful dance. There was no ...

Contributed by Mary (Pick) Wagner Everyone loved the Clay County Fair and our kids were no exception. This photo helped capture the fond memories of that afternoon. Mark remembers Rich driving and Kathy taking the picture, and the fair being fun and thinking it was huge; Matt recalls Rich really liking the silver White tractors with CAT engines; Kathy bought incense and polished rocks for Sandy who was feeling special to have an aunt and uncle take them to the fair. But there’s more to this story.  Unknowingly, my mother scared the daylights out of me when she left a message at the Omaha NE motel where Jim & I were staying for the weekend, to call her.  Much to their liking, our kids were staying on the Pick grandparent’s farm on Sunday and in town with the Wagner grandparents on Monday.  Always in good hands with never a worry, I thought to myself “This can’t be good.” Mom, sensing anxiety in my voice, reassured me nothing was wrong; she only wanted ou...

Family picture taken in 1984 My parents moved to Kingman, Arizona in 1986. This decision rocked my world. I had just chosen to go to college nine miles from my hometown. A year later they chose to move 1,517 miles away from my childhood home. I didn't see this coming and they certainly didn't ask for my pre-approval. They moved in the fall, shortly after I started my sophomore year. I had just started dating Scott and my brother, Matt, had finished a two year stint in the army and was attending college in Fort Dodge. As we faced our first Christmas outside of our comfortable existence in Remsen, Mom and Dad surprised us with plane tickets to Arizona. This was our first visit to their new home. Mark drove up to join us from Tempe. I had mixed emotions about this holiday trip. Every family tradition I loved was now history. I had just started dating Scott and couldn't fathom the prospect of being separated from my boyfriend. Matt and I were both enjoying our colleg...

I am pretty sure my brother, Matt, believed in Santa as he tore open his gift and my parents looked on (circa ~ 1966) I never believed in Santa. <sigh> My non-belief in Santa is a dark secret of my childhood. I have no memory of ever believing. My mom tells me that on my second Christmas, I crawled out of my crib before anyone was awake and opened the presents under the tree. My vague recollection of this event isn't about the magic of Santa, but only of the pretty wrapping paper. Our next door neighbor, Michael Wischnewski, told me there was no Santa Claus. I was three. He was thirteen. Mom was furious. The resulting impact to me: no memories of lying in bed on Christmas Eve, waiting in exhilaration for Santa as visions of sugar plums danced in my head. <another sigh>  That being said, I do remember trying really hard to believe. Growing up, I watched my friends experience the magic of Santa Claus as I tried to convince myself that ...

The year we were busted. Cousin, Adam, is nestled in the middle. I have always enjoyed the joy of a great surprise. Growing up, I would often asked to be surprised with gifts rather than having each present chosen to my specifications. Unwrapping a pink flowered robe on Christmas day, knowing my mom had picked out this retail treasure just for me, was bliss. My brothers, on the other hand, did not buy into my naive wonderment. Their Christmastime goal was to uncover every hidden treasure and unwrap in advance of Christmas Day. And no matter how hard I tried to resist their Grinch antics, I would ultimately cave. I was a willing participant in a trio of holiday hi-jinx. The year of note was during our pre-teen years. Old enough to babysit ourselves, our parents would leave us alone when they would go out. During the holiday season, they were gone most weekends socializing. The minute Mom and Dad would walk out the door to go out to dinner or to a holiday gala, we three kids wou...

Sweet Baby Ky taking her turn behind the wheel I went on a road trip yesterday with my brother and niece. The last time I road tripped with my brother, there were invisible lines drawn in the back of the Sedan. Seat belts were rolled and tucked into the crevices of the back seats and I followed the strict instruction of my brothers not to violate their space. This trip was different. There was plenty of violating of space. And with no responding knuckle punches. Let me digress. Last Saturday, I was carefully thinking through the upcoming holiday week. The plan was for me to fly to Denver Wednesday afternoon and leave Saturday night. The days would be filled with skiing, mountains, and planning a house move. A very nice way to spend Thanksgiving. And then I got a message. My brother, Mark, now lives in Dallas with his family. In the voice message, Mark invited me to join the rest of my family in Texas for Thanksgiving. He knew that I didn't have my kids, but wanted to open...

Grant, Ben and Linds I ran into Miss Lindsey Fey late Saturday night. Really late. As opposed to summers from our past, this meeting was at a bar and not in my backyard. I was trying to act like a young adult again and she was just being one. With impending back-to-school and seeing our little Linds all grown up, a flood of memories came back to me. Lindsey was nothing short of entertainment for my boys as they grew up. A babysitter, a friend, a ball of constant motion...that was little Lindsey. The picture above was taken in my backyard. They had a baby pool filled and a hose spraying everywhere. Although I'm unsure of the need for the pool net (as big as the pool itself), I am sure it was fun nonetheless. The picture below is an action shot following the posed shot. It makes me laugh. Note Lindsey's dramatic sprint from the errant net. The hose is spraying everywhere and the toppled little scooter...your guess is as good as mine. Previously taken down the mini pool ...

Bean walking crew of the 70's (back - Aunt Kathy, Mom, Dad, Uncle Rich, Uncle Guy) (front - me, Mark and Matt) We all know the feelings of summer. Those small reminders that capture the essence of our youth; the feel of the warm sun on our face while laying back with closed eyes or the sound of sprinklers with the lingering smell of freshly cut grass. These are the feelings of my youthful summers that resonate through me each time I encounter them. Although not a feeling I experience frequently, another memory is the feel of wet plants rubbing against my exposed legs. Yes, this is the memory of bean walking on those many early June and July Iowa mornings in years past. If you grew up in the farm country of the Midwest, you completely understand what I’m talking about. While my children complain of having to get up early on an occasional summer morning for a camp, job, or sporting event; they haven’t a clue on how the sound of an alarm clock felt to child getting read...

Mark (left), Matt (right), and me (middle) My mom recently sent me this photo. I was the baby with my brothers holding my hands. A picture tells a thousand words. Notice how Mark is hesitant, carefully looking down at his fingers through his long eyelashes. Matt, in contrast, is weighing whether to smash my baby fist in his hand. We all know that this was staged with our mother behind the camera asking her toddler boys to hold their sister's hand. I don't look very happy. My precocious brothers weren't all that thrilled about having a sister either. Looking at the picture reminded me of the story told on my initial introduction to my brothers. When I was brought home from the hospital, my parents placed me on the bed to show Matt and Mark. Lying on a blanket, they took one look and threw the blanket over my face. Then promptly ran away and continued playing. From day one there was no coddling of their baby sister. It is interesting how a picture can elicit varying...

My pigtail was left intact. Our neighbor wasn't as lucky. I saw a post on FaceBook last night about two sisters, ages 5 and 3, who decided to experiment in haircutting. Their guilty dialogue with their father was hysterical. A classic line from the 5 year-old (culprit with the scissors) was "cutting hair takes a lot of concentration" (with special emphasis on the word, concentration). She obviously was lacking in this department based on her sister's 10+ inch resulting hair length variation. A similar experiment was had in front of 119 Harrison Street, Remsen, Iowa in the early 70's. Fortunately the heads of hair of my brothers and me were left untouched. The neighbor kids weren't as fortunate. Russell and Brenda lived across the street. Whereas my brothers and I were given a long leash by our mother, their parental leash was much shorter. An allowed outing to our house was rare. The last of these outings was the day of our little haircutting even...

We all love a parade. In Remsen, we especially loved the Kids' Days parade. My brothers and I would decorate our bikes in colored streamers with clothes pinned wheels for added noise. The kids of Remsen would parade down the closed streets with the many enthusiastic town residents viewing from the curb. In 1976, the parade was even more special as this was our country's bi-centennial year. The kids were recruited in masses with costumes encouraged. It was a grand celebration that year. One that we wanted to highlight as special during our Kid's Days activities. My brothers along with our neighbor, Tommy Bunkers, dressed up as the Three Stooges. Wigs were created with caps and yarn with appropriate clothes scrounged out of the attic. They were followed by many kids costumed as past presidents. There were George Washington's and Abe Lincoln's abound in the streets that day. My best friend, Bev, and I dressed up as Miss America and Miss USA. We made our roses ...

Who was the culprit; the bike or the brother?? I went out for a bike ride today. As I sped under the Center Street viaduct, I cringed while flying over a strip of loose gravel. Why am I so fearful of gravel? was the question I asked myself once my jawbone relaxed from it's previously locked and clinched state. It didn't take me long to recall my many bad experiences with loose gravel as a child and young adult. Alleys and gravel roads were a way of life in small town Iowa. Fresh gravel was a nightmare for the rider of a bike and in my case; passenger of a dirt bike and a car. The good news is that I actually survived. There were three bad loose gravel incidences that immediately came to mind. Two included my brother Matt and the other; my friend, Joan Brennan. Sorry, Joan. As for my brother, he is used to my using him as a subject in my blog. Past Ben Lane, our childhood stories provide the most material for my writing. Thanks, Matt.  The first mishap involved a rid...

Happy Birthday, Matt Wagner (the handsome guy third from right) Picture was taken 3 years ago on a road trip to our home town, Remsen Not really another mother, but we like to say this (sorry, Mom). My brother, Matt, and I have a very strange sense of humor. Our inside jokes really make no sense, but they crack the two of us up. We laugh a lot and we tease each other A LOT. From me referring to him as my brother from another mother to our "guy" hug where he pounds my back abruptly, we enjoy our presumed silliness. Our own kids like to join in our fun. Our time together, including many road trips with our collective crew, are full of laughter and great memories. Matt's quick wit doesn't miss anything. He is ruthless in holding on to my dumb commentary or mispronounced words. My random thoughts that turn into words and my butchering of the English language provide him material for future comic relief. And I don't mind a bit. It's Matt's birthday toda...