About the time I hit third grade, Mom went to work full time. As a treat, or maybe because Mom and Dad were exhausted, we started going out for supper every weekend. Always on Saturday night. Various restaurants, different towns. From the tiny blink and you missed it, Perkins Corner, Rock Rapids, Sioux Center, Hull, to Canton, S.D. Generally, I got to invite a friend along. I don’t remember who picked the location. Probably Mom. She was more adventuresome in trying new foods. As I remember Dad ordered a hamburger steak wherever we ate. I think he was about 70 before we convinced him to try a slice of pizza for the first time.

 

Mom and Dad as newlyweds, 1942…

Six nights a week, Mom cooked. I don’t think she loved cooking, but there was a hot meal on the table most nights. Mom was orderly. She had a plan. Not one of these, what should I make tonight when it was already 5 pm. She wanted her meal served, dishes done and out of the kitchen by 6-max. It was not in her DNA to come home from a long, tiring day of work, maybe facing a couple hours at the laundromat or ironing and not have a good idea of what she was making for supper. She often used her electric fry pan, or popped something in the oven soon after she got home. She loved casseroles, and so did I. Dad, not so much. But he didn’t complain about her choice or her cooking. I don’t remember him ever cooking when I was a kid. I only remember having one grill in our back yard. And it was rarely used. Dad wasn’t a steak guy, but Mom and I had steak once in a while. She always bought rib steaks because she thought the marbling gave it such good flavor. She usually just fried them in a pan. Often with fried onions. Maybe a touch of pink in the center, but certainly not as rare as I eat steak today.

 

Mom and Dad about their 15th anniversary…

 

Her meals weren’t fancy, but they were good. Iceberg lettuce for salads with Wishbone Catalina French dressing. I can honestly say I never had broccoli, cauliflower, shrimp, crab, lobster, or Chinese food while I lived at home. Mom must have become enlightened after I left. Not about seafood (other than Starkist Tuna and Demings Red Sockeye Salmon) or Chinese but her world really expanded in the fresh vegetable department.

 

Mom, Dad, Mona and Larry. Before Neese, about 1949…

 

Dad might have attempted cooking a few meals after Mom got sick, but that was rare. One of them might suggest Green Acres Drive Inn, chicken dinners from Hy Vee, or Pizza Hut. After Mom was home bound, I routinely stocked their freezer to the brim. Only requirement of Dad was getting their choice out of the freezer to thaw and heating it up. It worked for them for years. If Dad was picking up take out for them, Mom was still well enough to be left alone for short periods of time. Although had the house caught fire while he was gone, she surely would have perished. He often left without leaving the phone within her reach, or locked the door when home health care aides were due. Thus they couldn’t get in the house. And if they called, Mom couldn’t answer the phone. Frustrating when I was 800 miles away. These just weren’t things he thought about. He wasn’t being negligent on purpose.

Mom, Dad and grandson Brian, 1962…

 

This also afforded Dad a break from Mom and being in the house. He was always much more social than Mom and the isolation of them being alone together constantly took its toll. But after almost 60 years of marriage, this was just the way it was. Dad got on Mom’s nerves, and poor Dad just wanted his old life back. Teaching, preaching, visiting the sick, not stuck in the house constantly. Mom knew how to push his buttons alright. He’d bring her supper to the living room, go back to the kitchen and sit down to eat when she’d yell, “Ri-ich, Ri-ich.” He probably needed to count to 10 (or 100), get up, walk in the other room to ask what she needed? Only to learn she noticed one of the dining room chair legs was moved a 1/2 inch out of its own carpet indentation groove. She could be trying at times, and a caregiver he was not.

 

Dad, me and Larry, 1951…

 

I don’t know why they didn’t eat together anymore. Dad would bring Mom her plate of food to her usual spot in the living room. He chose to sit alone in the kitchen. I suppose there was just too much togetherness when Mom became home bound. They still needed their own space, maybe mealtime apart from each other filled the bill.

 

My favorite shot of Mom. Late 1970’s…

 

When it became apparent that Dad was not keeping up in the caregiving and cleaning departments they hired some outside help. My longtime friend, Char came over nearly every day for several years, helping Mom out with her personal needs. Picking up the place. Other aides were hired too. But Mom and Dad stayed in that house way too long to be healthy for either one of them. Mom’s needs far exceeded what Dad was capable of giving. I really can’t tell you how many times she fell, because I don’t know. And they were quite secretive about such things. The worst part of her falling? She never, ever fell alone.

 

Dad, Mom, Mona and me, 10, 1961…

 

During Mom’s first bout with Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, smack-dab in the middle of her chemo treatments, they discovered the chemo had done some damage to her heart and she suffered a stroke. Weakness on one side. She went to physical therapy for about a week. Refused to go after that. She would never walk by herself again. Or write with her beautiful penmanship. (Yes, schools should still teach cursive writing). It was not only hard to lose her independence, but depending on Dad for help, food, house cleaning, companionship was more than either had signed up for. They did make it work, though awkwardly for a few years. Since Dad had to help her stand and walk or move to a wheelchair, whenever she lost her balance, she took him with her. I can’t believe neither of them really ever got hurt. No broken hips, arms or concussions that I learned about. But they would often show me the bruises of their last tumble when I went home. Dad would either soften Mom’s fall, or she would soften his, depending on which way they fell. Oy vey. Since they were about the same height and weight, usually Dad could manage to get her up by himself. If not, he did call for help. Often my brother-in-law Jim, the chief of police in Rock Valley at the time, was the first to show up at the house.

 

Mom, 24 and newborn me, early 1951…

 

Mom always had a real soft spot in her heart for Valley Manor. She had worked there for years (I’m doing a story on Valley Manor soon). But Mom was failing and getting weaker, and Dad, almost 10 years her senior, those caregiving duties were just too much. They talked to Valley Manor’s administration and decided Mom would become a resident in a couple weeks. Dad was so relieved. Mom was on board, and I thought the transition would be smooth. But soon Mom got it in her head that living in Valley Manor would somehow be a huge mistake. She did moved in, but it was ugly. Mom had worked at Valley Manor 2 different times and in 2 positions. First as a nurses aide, later as the coffee lady, 6 mornings a week. She loved both jobs. The more she thought about her decision to become a resident there, the more she hated the idea. Mom was suddenly embarrassed at the idea of living where she once worked. From the get-go she was not a happy camper. Not very appreciative or nice to the help. And downright mean to Dad. She begged him to take her home. She wailed. Loudly. For hours. Which turned into days, then weeks. When Dad refused to bring her back home, she had a sign put on her door. Strict instructions plastered for all to see that Rich Gerritson was not allowed to visit or enter her room. This was a huge embarrassment for Dad. After just a few trial weeks, Dad unhappily brought Mom back home. Now there was a happy reunion. Not.

 

Mom and Joshua, 1976 in the orange kitchen…

 

This arrangement wouldn’t last long. Now Mom really required skilled nursing care. I believe this was her idea a few months later. She requested Dad call Fellowship Village in nearby Inwood. It would be a few miles hike for Dad at age 86, but this time Mom was really willing to give the place a fair shake. I finally realized how it uncomfortable it must have been for Mom to live at Valley Manor. But it had been totally her idea in the first place. With her mental capabilities somewhat diminished, she needed some of those decisions made for her, not by her. Mom adjusted beautifully at Fellowship. Grew very fond of several of the nurses and aides. For the last year of her life, she was quite happy and contented. The cancer was back with a vengeance, huge lumps all over, but Mom had decided she was forever done with more treatments. She was ready to go to her real home. Heaven with her Mom, Dad, brother Floyd, and the 4 grandparents who raised her and whom she loved like parents. And Larry. She couldn’t wait to see her only son Larry again.

 

Mom and Dad, mid-1980’s…

 

Dad drove to Fellowship daily, spending several hours with Mom. Often eating their noon meal together. Him sitting on the empty bed in the same room. Not talking much but spending time together. He’d help Mom eat first, urging the aides to help someone else. He had a tendency to try and hurry her along. Mom was always a slow, deliberate eater, and after the stroke needed more time to chew. Dad had to be reminded to slow it down and use smaller bites when helping her.

 

Josh, Mom and Shannon, 1977 on the farm…

 

On September 19, 2004 Mom and Dad celebrated their 62nd anniversary. Hard to believe from a couple so mismatched. Fellowship hung a banner on Mom’s door with a big 62. There was a cake and ice cream celebration during the afternoon. The couple who stayed together, but often lived on their own terms looked rather happy and proud of their accomplishment. I could see real affection between them. Something nice to remember about my folks. Exactly one month later, Mom slipped away, shortly after noon. She had called me the night before, barely able to whisper, saying “I love you, Denise” over and over…

 

Me and Mom, eastern Iowa, about 1975…

 

 

 

 

I assume other states do these rankings. The only one I’ve ever noticed is the Sunday Parade Magazine All-American ranking of the current sport. (BTW, what’s up with Parade Magazine these days? It’s scrawny, and I miss the guest writers on the back page). I think this group of athletes are usually high school seniors. Anyway, some Michigan group does high school basketball rankings during the season. I don’t know if they do younger than 8th grade, but Landon (Drew to the rest of the world) was ranked 40th last year.

 

Northwest basketball, ranked 40th in the state, 2015…

Landon wanted so badly to be ranked in the top ten for his freshman basketball season in the class of 2019. He came in number 16. (This gram is immensely proud) A vast improvement from 40th when you consider several of the 15 dudes ranked above him didn’t make their varsity team this winter. Holy smokes, can you imagine what Landon would have been ranked had he played junior varsity? For sure in the top 5. That’s never been the way he rolls though. Always played with older, bigger, better players. Constantly pushing himself to improve.

 

Hey, we’re moving on up. Ranked 16th his freshman year, 2016…

 

After being told Landon would not be playing basketball for another 4 weeks, this winter went into slow motion. He was bummed, I was morose, feeling bad for him. The worst part, his foot with the stress fracture was feeling 100%. Not good enough. He needed to finish physical therapy, thus lowering his chances of re-injury. He went to a terrific sports rehab place just for athletes. I guess they think there maybe a few sports stars in Ann Arbor. Go figure.

 

Landon getting his District Championship medal, 3-2016…

 

Landon was finally cleared to play with 2 regular season games left. Although he was used to his team, the plays and coaches, it was kind of like starting over for this kid. He seemed somewhat tentative. Landon’s defense was spot on, but against their biggest rival, he scored no points. Played about half the game which was typical. He had a couple rebounds, assists and fouls, but as I remember, he never attempted a shot. Huron had won the first match up while Landon was out with his foot. Pioneer won the second game though.

 

Landon (Drew) against Huron, 2016…

 

Our last game before tournament play wasn’t a very good team. But Pioneer looked tired, out of sync and it showed. They lost when they should have won easily. Ugh. Landon had 6 points, playing about half the game. His defense was very good. Not the way his team wanted to finish, but their record was still way above 500, at 16-4.

 

Landon in white. Good D, Dude…

 

Next up, district tournament. For the third time this season, Pioneer would play one of their inner city rivalry’s, Skyline. Happily, for 3rd time, Pioneer would dominate and win. Landon, for some reason plays exceptionally well against Skyline. Don’t know if it’s a player from their team (Landon was talking trash during their first meeting, and came very close to a technical foul) but he had another good game. He scored 8, with one turnover.

 

Landon, 3 going for a layup, 3-2016…

 

District finals would be against their other big rival, Ann Arbor Huron. They split the season with one win a piece. Huron was pumped with junk the whole game. They were itching for a fight and continued to verbally torment our guys. Their coach got tossed for a double technical. Pioneer won by 11. Landon played well, not scoring much, but great defense again. Pioneer got a very nice trophy.

 

Landon and Tracey with District Champ trophy, 3-2016…

 

Moving on to Regionals. Team from the Detroit area, called Woodhaven something. They managed to stay with Pioneer for the first half, but got blown away during the third quarter. Landon had 4 steals, 2 rebounds, 2 assists and 2 points. Pioneer won by more than 20.

 

An AAU tourney win last season, 2015..,

 

Their next foe was Ypsilanti. (Wonder who named that crazy town?) Before the game started, I watched Pioneer warm up. Landon swished 10 of 11 three-pointers from all over the court. At one point, one of his team mate’s shots ricocheted off the rim, and landed in a trash barrel, about 6 feet out of bounds in the corner. Landon ran over to retrieve it, turned around and let it fly. Nothing but net. I just knew he was going to have a good game. That little bit of cockiness he carries most of the time (from his dad Tracey, no doubt about that) was evident.

 

Big heads made for the last few games. With beautiful sis, Ari. Yes, his head is actual size…

 

Ypsi’s very good. We lost to them badly the day Landon thought he would be cleared to play, but ended up wearing the boot another 2 weeks. Ypsi’s been ranked in the top 5 all year. I don’t believe Pioneer ever had the lead. At the beginning of the second half, we got within a couple of buckets, but it was never very close. Pioneer was out matched and out performed. Still, Landon had such an awesome game. My favorite freshman would account for over 25% of Pioneer’s point total, leading in the scoring department. He had three 3’s and a layup.

 

Pioneer’s Big Heads. Landon, 3rd from left…

 

So Landon’s freshman season of Pioneer basketball is over. I’ve moved all my purple clothes (thanks Tracey) to another closet until December. Sigh. (Alas, I may have to get them out for football season, if Landon decides to play. Why can’t he just love baseball? He’s so good). Besides the games where he was on injured reserved, I’ve missed one game this season. A no name opponent in a small holiday tourney that was about 45 minutes away. The weather was so bad, Shannon and Tracey brought along extra clothes, thinking they would have to spend the night at a hotel. Took them over 2 hours to get there. I got updates throughout their easy victory. But I’m forever grateful that we were able to move 160 miles closer before the season started. Thanks God. Most games were about half an hour away. A very good season, weather and basketball wise.

 

Swishing one of his 3-pointers. Purple shoes and all…

 

Rex (head coach for Pioneer) was interviewed after their Regional tourney loss. He sang praises for the seniors and optimistically looked ahead to the coming year. Here’s a snippet of what he had to say.

 

Pretty complimentary of Landon’s ability. Also wrong on the points, he had 22, not 21…

 

But all is not lost sports fans. To the masses of Landon inspired basketball fans, take heart. He’s about to begin his second year, playing out of Cleveland, Ohio on an AAU team. (AAU stands for Amateur Athlete Union). His team is sponsored by LeBron James and Nike. A travel league that competes all over the country. Landon will play with guys his own age in this league, so he’ll be in the 15u, meaning 15 and under. About a dozen tournaments during May and July, with the month of June off. From Las Vegas, Orlando, Nashville, South Carolina, to Georgia, he’ll pit himself against the best players in the country who are his age.

 

Young Ari, loving # 3, and hoping he plays for the Hawkeyes….

 

So in his semi-half off season, he’ll grow. And eat. And think about girls. He’ll get his driver’s license about Labor Day. Little bit of a scary thought. Every time I give him a ride, he wants to drive my Jeep. Yikes. Really. Yikes. I like my Jeep. A lot. Without dings and scratches. I remember teenage drivers very well. We went through 3 of them years ago. All of them had accidents or tickets within the first couple years. All of them.

 

Practicing to be Landon’s biggest cheerleader since 1965…

 

Don’t know if any of you caught my tricky meaning in the title, Hoop-LA’s. L A stands for Landon Andrew. Rather clever I thought…

 

So this is what all the Hoop-LA is about, 2002…

 

 

We’ve all experienced moments which are truly special in our lives. Some big, some small, some as a nation, though most are personal. Thinking about my small moments, some stand out with such clarity at the strangest times, it literally takes my breath away. Accompanied by tears once in a while, but not always sad.

 

Adam and me delivering papers in 1989. Drawing by Jack, a customer…

One of my first big moments came when I was 7. Minding my own Saturday morning business, watching cartoons when my world was turned upside down. How could such life changing, devastating news be offered by a phone call? I never really thought about that before. My poor Mom, busy doing her Saturday cleaning receiving a phone call informing her my 12 year old brother Larry had been hit by a car while riding his bike and was dead. An unearthly wail that made the hair stand up on my skinny, little arms came from her as she dropped the phone and ran out the door. I honestly didn’t know what to think, since I knew nothing of what had transpired through that phone conversation. Only that something was seriously wrong with Mom. What had just happened in my happy little world? She was running around in circles on 15th Street. All I could do was watch her from the living room window, and cry because I was scared. By the time my Dad got home and learned the gruesome news, our house was packed with friends, elders and the minister from church. Could not have been as bad to hear the news surrounded by family and caring friends as the way Mom got the awful news that day.

 

Mona, me, Spitzy and Larry, 1957…

 

My grandpa, Lakey Wanningen got stomach cancer soon after Larry died in 1958. He died during the summer of 1960 when I was almost 10. I remember sitting next to my Mom at grandpa’s funeral. Wondering about the wisdom of God who saw fit to take Larry from me before my grandpa passed away. (Chastising Him throughout the service). And grandpa wasn’t even that old. But a lot older than Larry. Not very nice thoughts, but still seemed valid to a young girl struggling with loss and a lot of resentment.

 

My grandpa Lakey who had his own plane…

 

A sad moment shared by millions the day president Kennedy was shot, November 22, 1963. I was 2 weeks away from my 13th birthday. When I heard the news I was about to open the library door at school. School was dismissed, I walked home. Mom came home from work. We sat glued to the TV and cried all day.

Late December, 1970. My first weeks of motherhood. Just celebrated my 20th birthday. I didn’t know how to mother. We had this awesome huge flat screen TV. No wait, I don’t believe it was quite that big. Try a 13 inch color portable we couldn’t afford. Shannon, my amazing newborn was fascinated with a couple of things. One was a new fangled TV program geared towards teaching children. Maybe not quite as small as Shannon, but I knew exactly how bright she was at that very young age. It was called Sesame Street. I decided this program was a must see for my bright baby. So 3 week old Shannon and mommy watched as Bob ran away from the camera (far), then ran lickety-split back towards the camera (near). About 10 times. Yup, she really got it, I could tell. Forty-five years later she’s never stopped her need to learn.

 

Grandpa Jim with Shannon, early 1971…

 

We were living in a little 3 room house at the time. It was so close to the railroad tracks across Hiway 75, her crib (which was in the living room) used to scoot a few inches every time a train rumbled past. It was almost Christmas, and 2 week old Shannon loved staring (though sometimes cross eyed) at the lights on our tree. The tree wasn’t very big because we had absolutely no room, but that holiday season, no one enjoyed the lights and tinsel on our tree more than our newborn daughter.

 

Shannon waiting for Sesame Street, 1970…

 

Jump forward a few years when a second newborn entered our lives. Quiet, contented Joshua. Not quite so quiet one day as I was running behind on his schedule. He was fussing loudly for his next bottle when his cries suddenly stopped. Dead silence. My heart thudded. I zipped in the living room, expecting a catastrophe. Instead, Josh gazed contentedly at his 4-1/2 year old sister sitting next to him while sucking on one of her muddy fingers. I bit my lip and swallowed a reprimand on her mothering techniques, cleaned his mouth, washed her hands, and prayed nothing bad would happen as he digested a small amount of her famous mud pie. I still remember what each of them were wearing the day big sis muted her new baby brothers cries.

 

New Vienna, Iowa. Shannon and Joshua, mid 1975…

 

Early in 1980. We were living in Spencer, Iowa. Adam was about 8 months old. My third (and last) baby. He was just learning to creep. More pushing, pulling movements than getting up on his knees yet. Kind of sad to say, I seem to remember lots more about his babyhood than Shannon and Joshua. Not because he was my favorite, but because he was my last. I knew this was my last chance to really savor baby moments, no matter how small. Plus I was older (though probably not any more mature). Little stinker Adam was in a predicament. He had gotten off the rug in the middle of the room and had pushed himself backwards. He was literally underneath my antique oak sideboard. His whole body was underneath with only part of his little head showing. He was desperately trying to right his direction and move forward. Each time his hands would try and propel him forward, he’d slide back further under the sideboard. Raised himself up to gain momentum, and bumped his head. Not hard enough to get hurt or cry out. Just hard enough to tick him off. As I watched (selfish mom, I didn’t want this to end) I remember praying to God: “please God, stop time for a little while. I don’t want him to grow one day older than he is right now. I’m never going to get to enjoy little things like this again. Please. Let Adam stay just like this a little while longer.” Of course God was too busy training the United States hockey team so they could annihilate those pesky professionals from Russia in the Olympics, so my little prayer went unanswered. But hey, USA, USA. That’s ok God, I understand. Still one of my happiest mom moments, the day Adam got stuck.

 

Stop smiling and help me mom. Adam, 1980..

 

Joshua played high school football. He loved it and was quite good. His team however was not very good and their record showed accordingly. I enjoyed watching him. His position was tight end/receiver. I can’t remember the exact date, maybe 1993, I believe Josh was a senior, and it was a home game. He had pulled a muscle in his butt or thigh during the game, and was limping once in a while. Still Josh was having a terrific game, catching some really great passes. I never needed to see his uniform number (90) when he was in the huddle. I merely looked at everyone’s legs and I recognized Joshua’s calves. We were in the stands sitting with a group of parents. One of the dads noticed Josh limping, and snidely commented, “geez, I wish Josh was hurt every week. He’s really having a good game!” I looked him squarely in the eye and said, “Bruce, you’re such an ass!” Yeah, I still remember that.

 

Joshua, 1993. Dude, nice calves …

 

I’ve talked about this before. When we moved to Michigan in 1987, Shannon was a sophomore. She was so far ahead of her class in most subjects (kudos to the Iowa educational system) Jackson didn’t have a lot of classes for her to choose from or take. She languished, cruising through some independent studies, finally taking classes at Jackson Community College during her senior (kudos to Jackson or the Michigan department of education cause we paid for none of these classes). As graduation time neared, Shannon told us there were 2 graduations. The regular one with her class of 350, and the Honors Graduation a couple of nights before. The Honors portion was held indoors, the regular outdoors in the football stadium. The Honors students numbered maybe 50 plus, thus was in the school’s theater with a small stage. The event was humbling as a parent, but one of my proudest moments. As they read Shannon’s name, they’d listed her accomplishments. To me, that list seemed to go on for quite a spell. I can still see her standing on stage as they read, and read. Ok, so maybe her PH.D. graduation class of 20 was a bigger deal, but my eldest during Honors High school graduation ranks right up there.

 

Shannon nearing graduation, ready for prom, 1988…

 

Watching my Dad’s face in 2006. One of the Muskegon Chronicle’s feature writers, Clayton Hardiman wrote a story about my Dad’s work and devotion with the inmates at the prison. And Dad was 89 years old. The day the paper came out I took a copy to his apartment. As I read it, there was a look of almost disbelief on his face. Like he couldn’t really comprehend this large article was about him. I’ll never forget that look. Didn’t last very long, but at that moment I admired his humbleness. Ten minutes later I was running around town buying every Chronicle copy (per Dad’s instructions) so he could literally send a copy to every person on the face of the earth he knew. Humbleness never lasted too long with Dad, but I was witness to it that day.

 

Dad in 2007, teaching a bible study at Hillcrest…

 

Not long ago, we went to a very fancy restaurant in Ann Arbor. I was perusing the menu (yikes, the prices) when I spotted it. Chef, Adam Van Berkum. Probably wasn’t kosher, but sneakily I slid my iPhone out and snapped a picture of his name on the menu. Best steak I’ve ever had. Not kidding. But it really was all about seeing his name.

 

The menu at The Chop House in Ann Arbor…

 

Joshua’s had his own business for over 15 years. Grown from 2 guys (him and Tim) doing literally everything, to several employees. They’ve shown huge growth spurt in the last decade. A couple of years ago, I spotted a testimonial clip from some of Motor City Technology’s satisfied customers. I didn’t know any of these folks. Business owners varying from construction companies to law firms. I don’t know why this had such an affect on me. I thought my heart would burst with pride. I know, my sobbing through the whole clip was a bit over the top.

 

Motor City Technology’s CEO, Joshua…

 

Shannon got her doctorate in 2008. Not many years later, she and 2 other therapists bought 2 houses which they converted into office space. The houses are charming and right next to each other. Now the same 3 gals have purchased another building because they keep expanding. But it was the first open house I remember. CEO Shannon and her partners cutting the ribbon. Which was nice. But it was the sign that remains firmly entrenched in the great moments for this mom. Dr. Shannon Lowder. Wow.

 

Shannon’s business, A Healing Place is still expanding…

 

So these are some of my biggies. Most are extremely happy memories when I think about them. I’ve completely skipped 4 incredibly important people who have caused more fantastic memories since they’ve come into my life. Don’t even get me started on my grands…

 

The super-duper grands clockwise, Ari, Peyton, Graham and Landon, 2014…