Mother-Daughter Teas

It is the time of year we used to go to the Mother-Daughter Tea at Fairview Church. That may be what Kari & I were dressed up for in this May '87 picture of us at our Normandy Terrace apartment in West Des Moines. More likely it was for something in conjunction with her high school graduation that year. But we have put on our hats for teas over the years.

One of the Fairview Teas I remember was the one twenty-one years ago. Alyssa was only six weeks old. It was very special because we had five generations in attendance that day - Great-great Grandma Delphia Ridnour, Great-Grandma Ruth Lynam, Grandma Ramona Lynam, Mother, Shelly Botkin and little Aly. If we didn't win a prize, we should have.

The programs for the afternoon teas always included some songs, some special readings or poems about mothers and the gifting of some posies. If you were the oldest mother, youngest mom, came the farthest, had the most children, had the most grandchildren, been married the longest, etc., you might win a pot of geraniums or petunias. When Grandma Ridnour won several years in a row for having the most grandchildren, they had to come up with some new ways to pick winners. After the program everyone adjourned to the basement for mints, nuts, punch or coffee and cookies. No tea, though. Imagine that.

Another Fairview tea that stands out in my memory was the one in 1996. The weather was very much like today - cold, wet, windy. We had just gotten our '83 Dodge Ram pickup. There was an auction in Brooks that I went to even though I knew I could only stay for an hour or so because I had to get home in time to go to the tea.

On the way home I had a flat tire on the pickup. Changing a tire was no biggie for me; I had done that many times. But I'd never changed one on a pickup before! Nor had I ever used an axle jack. I couldn't get the pickup high enough to get the tire off. Nothing I tried would work. No cell phones in those days and of all the times I needed another car to come along, none did. I had stayed at the auction as long as possible, so a flat tire I couldn't change was the last thing I needed.

There was nothing to do but keep trying and somehow I finally got the tire changed. (Naturally, someone came along just as I was tightening the lug nuts and stopped to see if I needed help.) I hurried home, told Mom & the neighbor to go ahead without me so they would be on time, then rushed around to clean up and change clothes.

That may be why I left Aileen (my dove) in the outside cage that afternoon. That is the day one of Mom's cats killed her. (Aug 20, 2009 blog - "The Light of the Sun")

Thymes Remembered in Perry has become our favourite place for mother-daughter teas. I don't know if we are going to have time to go there this year. One thing for sure we are going to do is use the Royal Tara teapot I received from Ron & Ruthie for my 50th birthday. It will be the first time I've used it. We may not put hats on, but we will have our very own mother-daughter tea.

"He-e-e-e-r-e'-s R-o-n-n-i-e"

It really doesn't seem possible that my big brother is 70 years old today. Ron was only called Ronnie a brief time while he was little. It was usually 'Ronald' because Mom was a bit of a stickler about kids being called by their given names and not nick-named. Once he was in school, his name got shortened to Ron.
I don't think my brother was named for Dad's cousin, but they are both Ronald Earl (Figgins). And we have a cousin on Mom's side, Ronald Travis who did go by Ronnie. I think Ronald was just one of those popular names in the 30's and 40's like Gary and Larry and Jackie and Donald and Jimmy - all because of the movie stars. In the case of Ronald - Coleman and Reagan.
Ron was the only one of the four of us born at home. When I heard the details of his birth (three days in labor and forceps), I was amazed Mom had the rest of us. I know Grandma Ridnour was there at the birth. I feature her making the trip from Mom's side to Aunt Evelyn's for the birth of Lila Roberts on the 6th and then back to Mom's for Ron's birth. If he hadn't been so obstinate, Ronald could have shared his birthday with his father and his cousin.
I would say Ron's best friend during those early years was our neighbor, Norman (Normie, Norm) Firkins. It seemed like he was always at our house. When they were young, they played. When they were older, they helped with the haying and threshing. One time they teased Jodie Fudge (an old guy on the threshing crew) too much. He chased them down, held Normie by the heels over top the stinking barrel of hog slop and threatened to drop him in. They left him alone after that.
Ron's pets were Fritz the dog and Daisy the pony. I think Fritzie died after eating rat poison. I don't remember Daisy. They said she had a nasty habit of running under low tree limbs in order to knock her rider off. She went back to our landlord and we got Queenie. Queenie once drug Ron through a barbed wire gate on his way back from Firkins. When she was headed for home, she couldn't be stopped. Neither the horse nor rider saw the closed gate. They were both cut up pretty badly.

My big brother was three and a half years old when I was born. This picture of us was taken in January, 1944. One thing I notice in these pictures of Ronald is the resemblance his son and his four grandsons have to him.

As big brothers go, mine was one of the best. That doesn't mean he was always nice to me, however. Besides the corn cob fights, there was the time he was taking Spanish his sophomore year in high school. I had a big crush on a boy and wanted to tell him how I felt without actually saying it. So I asked Ron to teach me how to say "I love you" in Spanish. We were doing the milking at the time. He reached up into the narrow storage above where the harness was hung and pulled out a bottle of 'Old Grandad' whiskey. "Here, take a drink of this and I'll tell you how to say it." He took the cap off and handed it to me. I smelled it. "E-w-w-w, it smells awful." "Well, you have to take a swallow or I won't tell you." Dumb me. I took a sip big enough to take my breath away. I don't remember ever using the phrase on my crush, but I do remember "Yo Te Amo" and the way the whiskey burned all the way down my throat.

Ronald Earl had another nickname besides Ron that stuck all through high school. It also had something to do with his Spanish class. The name was "Ha". I've asked him the meaning and how he got the nickname and I can't remember what it was. Next time I'll write it down. Or you can ask him about it when you wish him a happy birthday.

May you have many more, big brother. I love you.

A Bit of a Birthday Tribute

" Oh, my pa-pa, so funny, so adorable
Always the clown so funny in his way
Oh, my pa-pa, to me he was so wonderful
Deep in my heart, I miss him so today"
"Oh mein Papa" is a German song about a beloved clown father, written by Swiss composer Paul Burkhard in 1939. It was a #1 Billboard hit for Eddie Fisher in 1954. Connie Francis recorded a popular version of the tune in the early 60's.
Dad (Louis Lavern Lynam) was born ninety-three years ago today. There's no date on the above picture of him with his parents, Bessie and George Lynam, but I would guess him around seven years of age. (And wasn't Grandpa George a good-looking young man?) Louis was born south of Corning only a couple miles from where he and Mom would later live their entire married lives. The family moved to the Highland Church & School area west and north of Corning while Louis was still little. He always talked so fondly of "Uncle Jim's place". (Uncle Jim was George's uncle James - a brother of George's father, Barney.) Life-long friendships between Louis and some of the neighbor boys - Edward Hoyt & the Willet's - were formed at Highland School before Dad's family moved to Taylor County and he graduated 8th grade from Spaulding School.
Because of his physical pain and depression in later years, we sometimes forget what a clown he could be. He did joke around a lot and liked to play pranks on and with some of his buddies. I remember the time he and Earl Goldsmith "appropriated" a seed corn sign of a full-sized, good looking blond woman dressed a-la Daisy from the Dukes of Hazzard just so they could have their pictures taken with it. (Whatever happened to that sign?)
Wayne Moore was another of his good friends with a wry sense of humor. I'm sure what one couldn't think of, the other one could. The brothers Kapple, Art & Roy, were life-long friends from the Spaulding era and later, area neighbors in Jasper Twp.
More of my memories of Dad are negative than positive - I don't remember him being very demonstratively loving - but I do have one vivid memory of a time I knew he cared about me. The tractor and manure spreader was parked between the chicken house and corn crib so the hen house could be cleaned out. When it was done and Dad was ready to spread the manure on the field, I wanted to go with him so I clambered on behind and was holding onto the seat of the tractor. When he started up, I slipped and fell to the ground. By the time he realized I was there and had fallen, he thought the wheels had run over me. Of course I was screaming bloody murder and crying - more because I was scared than hurt. He picked me up and carried me to the house. When Mom told this story in later years, she related how devastated Dad was because he thought I was seriously injured. Ah-h, see, he did care.


When Louis died, May 24, 1978, he had just celebrated his 61st birthday. His oldest grandchild, Douglas, would be sixteen in August; the youngest living, Christine, wouldn't be two until September. And his very youngest, Ian, wouldn't even be born for another five years. The above picture of Louis was taken when he was two years, one month old. The picture of Ian was taken on his second birthday.
From the time he was little, Mom and I could always see the resemblance of Ian to his grandfather. Ron and I have noted it as Ian has gotten older although others in the family don't see it. Not that it matters greatly, but it does seem nice to me that someone in the family looks like the patriarch even if he never knew him.
I understand why, when families get together, they talk about the 'good old days' and tell stories about their moms and dads - because when they are gone, and the oldest grandchildren are gone, the moms and dads will be truly dead. They will be faded photographs and a name and date on the family tree.
"Oh, my pa-pa, to me he was so wonderful
Oh, my pa-pa, to me he was so good...."
(Happy Birthday, Dad)

"Jose Cuervo, you are a friend of mine ---

I like to drink you with a little salt and lime.

Did I kiss all the cowboys? Did I shoot out the lights?

Did I dance on the bar? Did I start any fights?" (Cindy Jordan)

Cinco de Mayo made me think of margaritas. Margaritas made me think of Jose Cuervo which made me think of Shelly West's hit song from 1983 by the same name. It was such a fun, catchy little tune. Its success brought increased sales for Jose Cuervo Tequila, which brought more success for Shelly's recording.

Another of her songs I really liked was "You're the Reason God Made Oklahoma" - a duo with her brother-in-law, David Frizzell. The song was #1 on the country charts in early '81. It was used in Clint Eastwood's movie "Any Which Way You Can" in 1980.

As much as I liked these two songs of Shelly's, it was her mother, Dottie West, I was a real fan of. Dottie was one of the early successful female country western artists along with her friend, Patsy Cline. (Another favourite of mine.)

In 1970, Dottie's song, "Country Girl" was used as the basis for a Coca-Cola commercial. In 1973, she wrote another commercial for them: "Country Sunshine". I was living near and working in the big city at that time, but since I considered myself a 'country girl' I would always crank up the volume and sing along.

West had so many hits alone and with duo partners. "Every Time Two Fools Collide" with Kenny Rogers was one of my favourites. I still remember hearing about her car accident on August 30, 1991. At first it was reported she wasn't seriously hurt. When I heard on Sept 4 that she had died, I couldn't believe it. I still love listening to her songs.

But back to Cinco de Mayo, which began this chain of thoughts: the fifth of May is not Mexico's Independence Day. It celebrates the victory of Mexican forces over the French at Puebla. Although France went on to capture Mexico City and install Maximilian as Emperor a year later, the delay kept the French from lending support to the Confederates during our country's Civil War.

Cinco de Mayo has become more popular as a day of celebration in the U.S. over the years. It is generally a day of cultural celebration with emphasis on beverages, food and dancing. Later today I plan to drink a margarita, eat some chips and guacamole and listen to Dotty West - all in the spirit of......

One in a (Half) Million

I'm a fortunate grandmother of four grandsons and five grand-daughters. (And two great-grandsons.) One of my granddaughters was born on my 51st birthday and one of my granddaughters was named for me.
Kathryn Irene Fleming is third from the left in the back row of this picture. (She is also the third born of my granddaughters.)
The picture is of the cast of the school play she was in last month - just one of her extra-curricular activities. She's also an excellent student academically, and works several hours a week as an aide in a care center.


The activity which perhaps takes up most of her time, though, is being a member of the Central Iowa Division of the US Naval Sea Cadet Corps which she joined several years ago. I don't know what motivated her to join, but she took to it like a duck to water. She has participated in and passed so many of their training programs, I can't remember them all. She is also applying for their International Exchange Program.

Kathryn's current rank is PO2 - Petty Officer Second Class. Her most recent achievement is the highest to date and perhaps the most scary. Kathryn is one of 2,250 high school seniors (coming school year) selected to attend one of three Summer Seminars at the US Naval Academy in Annapolis, MD. If I understand correctly, there were 511,639 applicants which makes her acceptance phenomenal. (And makes me very proud and happy for her.)
http://usna.edu/admissions/nass.htm will give you an idea of what awaits her during her six days next month. Note that the summer seminar application is automatically her application for the US Naval Academy's Class of 2015. I don't know for certain if being accepted to Summer Seminar means she is also accepted as a member of the Class of 2015, but that is my understanding.

I can't even imagine being able to do what she is going to do next month. Just getting on an airplane alone at (almost) age 17 would be scary enough. (My first plane trip at age 24 frightened me and I didn't have to change planes at O'Hare.)

What an opportunity Kathryn has achieved for herself! Her academic standing alone will guarantee her acceptance at many colleges and universities. My hope is that she will love Annapolis and want to go there - that it will be her start to an amazing career.

From my end of the continuum, it is so easy to give advice - so easy to say, "You have this wonderful opportunity. Don't give it up because you are afraid, or because you fall in love with some boy. There's plenty of time for that later."

Whatever she decides, the important thing is that it is right for her. And that she knows how proud I am of her and how much I will always love her. (As well as how much I would love to go see her in Annapolis.)

April Reads II

Two more of Kristina's recommendations made it on the second half of April's reads - at least the authors if not the specific books.

She had recommended Ron Rash's 2004 "Saints at the River" which I hope to find at Half Price Books new location next time I'm in WDM. Instead, I read Rash's 2008 Pen/Faulkner Finalist "Serena".

Rash's books are set in Appalachia - an area that draws me as much or more than Ireland does. "Serena" is a story about the logging industry during the depression -a time when men were as desperate for work as Serena and her husband were to make as much money as possible from the timber before the area was made into the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Rash's writing is spare, poetical, mystical. When I began reading "Serena" I didn't think I was going to like the book, but the quality of his writing kept me reading until I was hooked on the storyline. I should know by now that I like almost everything Kristina likes. (Yes, Kari, I will read "Moon Tiger" before you get here and we will talk about it!)

Emilie Richards is the author of the "Shenandoah Album" novels I've been reading. And because I've enjoyed those books, I picked up her earlier "Prospect Street". It is a typical "woman betrayed, divorced, on her own with two kids, down-sizing from wealth and perfect house into a Georgetown fixer-upper row house" kind of book. As she works on repairing the house, she is also rebuilding relationships. Of course there is an attractive, enigmatic man and a mystery to be solved - a good read for the rainy days of April.

Tony Hillerman has long been one of my favourite authors with his southwest Native American stories. Which is why the Denver Post quote: "Doss does for the Utes what Tony Hillerman has done for the Navajo" on the back cover of "White Shell Woman" by James D. Doss got me to part with $2.00 in order to bring it home and read.

There are now fifteen novels in the Charlie Moon mysteries Doss writes. "White Shell Woman" is number seven. Doss is now retired from the Los Alamos National Laboratory technical staff, so there will probably be more books about the Utes. And since Hillerman won't be writing any longer, I'll be reading Doss for awhile.

P. J. Alderman may have been nominated for a RITA for her first book, "A Killing Tide", but I'll probably not hunt it out based on reading her second novel, "Haunting Jordan". Some books with resident ghosts are extremely captivating. "Haunting Jordan" is just lame.

The other April Reads II, Kristina-recommended author, is Margaret Frazer and specifically, her Dame Frevisse Medieval Mystery series. I happened to buy #10, "The Squire's Tale". (As nearly as I can tell there are now 17 Dame Frevisse mysteries.)

Frazer is an Edgar Award nominee for two of the books in this series. Dame Frevisse is a 15th Century nun in the Oxfordshire convent of St. Frideswide. She is some distant relation of Geoffrey Chaucer's, thus the titles of books in the series.

"The Squire's Tale" seemed well-researched. It was well-written, though I was correct in figuring out "whodunit". I'm just not currently into medieval literature - though I have been in the past. Perhaps my interest in that era will once again be piqued and I will pick up another Dame Frevisse mystery.

Of my ten April reads, Tony Earley's "Blue Star" edges out Berg's "Last Time" as my favourite of the month.

May Day

"Rise and put on your foliage and be seen
To come forth, like the springtime, fresh and green
Wash, dress, be brief in praying;
Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying!"
(Robert Herrick 1591-1674)

The first thing I think of in relation to May Day is May Basketing. As a child, it was something I looked forward to every year. During free time at school the last week in April, we were allowed to use construction paper to make May Baskets. Most of them were made by rolling a piece of paper into a cone like the ones above and taping or pasting them together. Then a strip of paper was pasted on for a handle.
Once we had constructed our little 'baskets', we took them home to fill with popcorn, candy and flowers. Ours had mostly popcorn and only a piece or two of candy. The flowers were usually violets pulled out of the yard or ditch. There were times if I didn't like the person the May Basket was for, I would use dandelions. (Mom wouldn't let us take May Baskets only to people we wanted to, she made us take them to everyone in school.)

With a little help, I learned to make heart shaped May Baskets like these, although adding a handle was more difficult. Handles were important because the idea of May Basketing was to hang the basket on the doorknob, holler "May Basket" and run away without being caught. Of course there were some houses where you wanted to be caught because the catcher was supposed to kiss the catchee.
Our May Basketing was usually done in the early evening. Because we had to be driven around the neighborhood, Mom would stop down the road aways and we would creep up to the houses quietly; drop or hang the baskets, holler "May Basket" and then run. (Run as fast as possible when the ones with the dandelions were left!)
Our front yard would look quite junky on May 1st. We moved in anything we could hide behind in an effort to catch the May Basketers who came to our house. There was still a fence around our yard then which helped our efforts.
I remember the time we stopped along the road north and west of Vogel's so Ron could sneak up to the house through the windbreak. He had to cross a couple fences. When he ran back to the car with Carol and Virginia chasing him, he made it through the fences, but they ran into them and got caught on barbed wire. He was quite unpopular with them for sometime afterwards.

By the time my children were in school, the practice of May Basketing had pretty well died out. I wanted them to experience some of the fun I'd had as a child, so we made May Baskets from paper cups with pipe stem cleaners for handles, filled them with popcorn, candy and flowers and took them to their classmates. The one difference was I let them take baskets only to their friends - their classes at Johnston were too large to take them to everyone.

By the time we moved back to SW Iowa in '78, I had become interested in my Irish heritage and learned about Beltane. When possible, I began having bonfires in conjunction with May Day. A distant cousin suggested adding the traditional "Maiwein" (May wine) to sitting around the fire. I tried it once and went back to my preferred Rose' or to the Moselle or Rhine wine without the addition of the woodruff.

Other May Day traditions include dancing around the Maypole. I especially remember the one at Jordan House in West Des Moines.

The one May 1st tradition I did not like was the USSR's. Known there as International Workers' Day, my most vivid memory is watching soldiers and tanks parade around Red Square on television during the Cold War era. I went to sleep too many nights imagining (fearing) I would wake up in the morning to find uniformed "commies" in our front yard.

No May Baskets or bonfires for me this year. I might pop some corn and eat some candy. I might bring in a small bouquet of violets and drink a glass of wine. The one thing I am for certain going to do this May Day is cheer on Paddy O'Prada during the Kentucky Derby telecast.

Happy May Day. Happy Beltane!