As I set here thinking over the past, I realize that has not always been my priority. It appears that in so many instances of my life I have gone "full spead ahead". There is no question in my mind that this has been an expensive waste. This, it appears, has been caused by my anxious drive to keep things moving smoothly and making sure everyone has a good time. In retrospect my rush has ment I missed an awful lot. Well, we can't turn back the clock and those opportunities are gone and few lay ahead to make up for the oversight. Crying over spilt milk is a bigger waste of time. What is left then is the hope to warn others in the path to "slow down" don't let the opportunities to enjoy things as they are happening get lost in the shuffle of everyday living.
As mothers particularly we have the attitude things need to get done. That they do, but not at the expense of missing out on some really very special occasions. You know I have always had a great interest in the things the kids do. In fact that was the major reason we sold out and moved up to the Central Coast. As I look back on it now, I realize I have never heard one of my Grand Children give a talk in Church. I don't recall ever hearing my Adult Children bear their testimony. All of these missed opportunities have been because I made the choice to live in a Ward other than where they were. The effect I hoped to achieve was to let them have their family without Grandma under foot. I guess I have been successful, for years no one even knew that I was Grandma. Guess it has turned out to be one of those: "be careful what you wish for" cituations.
A couple of months ago I was early to my Ward and just happened to stand in the open door way and hear Brenae and Jedediah bear their testimonies. What a thrill that was. They didn't know I was there which made it even more sweet. Putting the shoe on the other foot, I don't believe they have ever heard me bear my testimony. Not to worry, I believe in these Blogs I have done plenty of that.
One of the most hurry up and miss the best of the time was when I took Jay on that Alaskan Cruise. He was not able to do a lot of the moving and shaking. With so much luggage to get gathered up and ready to move to the next point pretty well wore me down. It seemed as if the packing and unpacking, moving, gathering and securing was about all I recall of the trip. A shame really, because it was ment to give us time to enjoy things together. He spent most of his time in the Cabin, and me wandering around the ship alone trying to find things to fill the time. Neither of us benefited much from the experience.
On many of the camping trips we took as a family I recall mainly the hussel of getting packed up and food prepared for our comfort while away. I am not sure I kicked back as much as I could have to really enjoy the things being done. So my advice to slow down is in hopes those who have the chance to do those things today will: "slow down and enjoy the time with the family". I can testify those days will be few and far between and never recaptured. We sure had some great times. We made some pretty wonderful memories along the way as well. The great thing is the kids recall them with such pleasure. The time was not wasted, just the gleaning of sweeter memories missed by allowing the hussel and bussel to strip the gathering of fun from duty. They are both available. For some reason I missed learning that.
Not "grumping" just reflecting on some pretty important thoughts. What is important today may not even matter tomorrow, infact, it may not even cross our mind. Silly huh?
Well I guess that is just how things are. It is foolish to look back on things that cannot be changed. Better to just keep trudging forward and taking advantage of the things that are happening everyday. Like the song from the movie: "Flower Drum Song" A Hundred Million Miracles Are Happening Everyday. We can't catch them all, but we should be able to take advantage of the better part of the best. Never let even the smallest opportunity pass you by. The Lord wisely gave us one day at a time to fill with as much love and joy as we can pack into it. Wasting time by wishing things were different won't capture the majesty of "time". Only what "we" put into it will make things the way "we" want them to be. Happiness is not a destination, or so I have read, it is about as much as we will allow to come into our lives by our
own effort. Try as I might, I cannot make anyone else Happy. I may influence a short span of time in any given day, but it will not expand on its' own. Come to think of it, neither will I. Take time to smell the roses. Their blooming season is not all that long. Their lasting power may be captured, but the fragrance will never linger with the same intensity once the peak is past. Not without some special care to preserve it.
I'm greatful for memories. Like the fragrance of the rose, they return to mind with such sweetness. They never return with the intensity as they were made, but with enough lingering essence that they are always warming and lovely. We never have too many; and we can never make enough, of that I am sure.
Written this 20 day of January, 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Growing Up Was Hard To Do!?
You know I had to do my growing up when the country was in the throws of a World War. Daily life was pretty par - Dad went to work, Mom ran the house along with joining in all the War effort things that women did to support the War effort, and Me, I went to school everyday and learned how to be an "only child". In normal circumstances that might have been a rather neat experience. With brothers away fighting the War, it only made being the only one in the house a rather difficult cituation. Dad was seldom home, and Mom rather found herself more envoloved with outside things than with me. Now that I think on it, I guess she felt I had a great enough life. After all, I had a Dad, and she had never had one. Strange looking back on it now. She was really rather lonely, even lonelier than I was. I remember one night when Dad came home early enough to do something with us, he decided to take us to a show. When he suggested it, Mom turned to him and said: "do we have to take her". I piped up with: "Oh, I could'nt go, I promised Lida and Howard I would come over to the plunge and help pass out towels tonight." Well, that was not really the truth, but I needed to help Dad with an awkward cituation. Turned out when I went to the plunge, Lida and Howard had meetings to attend, and they didn't need me that evening. I don't remember what I did, but it was a very lonely evening for me. I guess I was about 14 at the time. Believe this was the first time I leaned what growing up was all about. You
learn how to make difficult things for someone you love a little better.
I'm not sure if this was the begining of my thinking about what "growing up" ment or not. I do know that I soon learned I had to be independent, and stand on my own two feet. Maybe even face disappointment head on and not look for anyone to smooth things over for me. There really wasn't anyone there to do it.
Dad and I had a talk about it later. He told me Mom was having a hard time with both the boys
away, and the concern they might not come home, or if they did they might be hurt. I learned just how that makes a Mother feel when I had a son in similar circumstances. Men don't handle those things in the same way, and if a husband has served in a War, he is even less likely to feel the same concerns a Mother does. As Jay was quick to tell me: "hey I got through it". Being on a Ship in the middle of the ocean didn't seem to paint the picture I had in mind of my son dropping out of a helicopter on a rope over a jungle that could hide a sniper with a scope on the end of a rifle. Then I believe I was better prepared for such things because I had been raised in a wholesome family that loved each other (on occasion) and cared deeply about each others welfare.
I was 12 when Pearl Harbor happened - I was 17 when the War ended and my brothers came home. Those were some pretty difficult years for me. Growing up with all the outward pressures as well as all the ones that every young person goes through. Both Ron and Ralph complained I dressed like an "old woman". Which now I take to mean that I had grown up too fast. Then they had missed all the in between changes that had taken place. What was even more alarming to them was I was talking about joining the Lady Marines when I graduated. You would have thought I was offering to join a "house of ill repute" the way they both carried on.
I don't know I gave up the idea, rather I was too scared to follow through from all the horror stories they had to tell about women in the service. I am sure now that some of that was true, but I am just a sure there were others who served without all the ugliness. Well, I never found out so that is the end of that!
I guess my biggest concern was how I would ever find someone to marry. I didn't date much, in fact I had been going steady during my Sophomore thru early Senior years at High School. Same guy. In fact we even got engaged before he left for the Navy after his graduation. My Mom wasn't happy about it, but then I didn't seem to do much to make her happy back then. Dad didn't say much. It was long after that I learned the guy's (Bill) parents had come to the house while I was away and told my folks they wanted the engagement ended, and as much as told my parents it was their job to see it happened. I don't know why this was never discussed with me. Maybe because they had a similar incident with Willetta's parents after she and Ron ran away and eloped after he came back from the War. Of little consequence. His family did a great job of seeing things went their way - I am eternally greatful it work out that way.
I won't get into detail about all of this. Just a short overview. I was attending High School half a day and working half a day in my Senior year. There was still a shortage of workers, and I had a good paying job. I didn't need the credits two more classes would have given me, so I had a work permit. Bill would write he needed money, the Navy didn't pay enough. I was saving for a Wedding Dress, but would rob the fund to send him an extra $20.00 every once in awhile to help out. (Generous, Stupid and supposedly in Love). One afternoon I got a phone call from Bill's grandmother. She was a great lady and his grandfather a neat old man. They invited me over the next week-end for a visit. I was thrilled. When I got there they explained they had waited until Bill's parents were out of the house, they lived with them at the time. Grandma explained to me she felt I was being "used" and it was not "fair". She showed me a letter that had come to Bill's parents the week before and told me they had sat and laughed about what was in it. She wasn't usually a snope, but it got her interest, and concern up, so she looked for the letter. When she read it she was really upset. Needless to say, so was I when I read it. It seems the money I had so generously sent was used to take other girls out. He was having a blast! I didn't stay long after I read the letter. Grandma Huffman told me she thought I was too nice a girl and was being faithful to be treated so badly. You know, I thought so too.
By the time I had arrived back at my house, I was really boiling and had plenty of steam up to set down and write a hugh letter. Needless to say, I was not engaged when I finished. Oh, within a week I got a very "sweet" letter from Bill trying to explain away the whole thing, but it feel on very deaf ears. I spent the last part of my Senior Year attending everything "stag". Not a fun way to end your School Years. Not a good way to find out about how rotten some people are, or can be. The lesson was not wasted on me. When the dating started after I graduated and went to work full time, I was careful on whom I spent my time with.
I met Jay some months later, we were matched from that first date. I had found my
"Mr. Right" and lived if not happily ever after, as happy as I deserved to be. Bill? Well he came around when he got out of the Navy and tried to pick up where he thought he had left off. He knew I had married, but in the conversation he assured me that didn't make any difference (rather big of him I thought). I could get a divorce and we would get married. I don't know why he thought at the time I looked so pale, or was still in my robe and slippers. When I asked him: "what will we do with what is laying on the bed in Mom's bedroom?" He stolled in to see, came back a bit shocked but still had the brass to say: "I'll adopt the baby". Generous to a fault. Of course he was talking about Paul who was then just a few days old. Even more brassey when you think Jay was working on our car in the driveway with Ralph when he came to the house. You know he showed up at my door the morning after his Wedding to another girl and asked why I wasn't at his Wedding. I simply explained: "because I did not received an invitation". My parents and my brother and his wife went. They were all invited. His comment was: "Well, you knew I wanted you there." I said: "apparently Lucille didn't". He came around again when Paul was about 2 years old, I was polite, but just barely. I didn't see him again, fortunately.
Do I wish things would have been different? I am not sure. The constant theme in my life has been peppered with some hard times that made me stand up, take my whacks and move along. I believe the things that made me sensitive were the things I needed to learn to make me a rounded person. I know I am opinionated - that comes from having to stand my ground. I may be wrong, but I have never been so shy that I can't apologizing when I find my error. I believe what I learned the best was everyone has to live their own life. When they make a choice, it is theirs to deal with, bring on what it may. Today it seems people feel they need to be excused from things rather than make the best of them as they are. I don't believe you can change a person. If we take them to begin with, then you have to work through until you work out what ever comes.
Jay had once said he was amased at how envolved I had been in the kids lives when they were at home and how I had stepped aside when they left home. I guess membership in the Church had a lot to do with that. When I put Paul on the airplane to go to Salt Lake and the Mission Home when he was 19, I had a long talk with the Lord on the way back from Bakersfield. The Lord had loaned him to me for 19 years, now I was turning him back to have the Lord work with him for 2 years. What I sent away was a boy, what the Lord would deliver back would be a man. And so it was. He was a "free agent". Owner of his own stewardship. My influence was what it ever would be. The ground work done, I needed to be graceful and "let go". Yes, growing up is hard to do, but a necessary part of being a Mother or Father for that matter. Maybe that is why Father in Heaven allows us to be Grand Mothers and Grand Fathers. We can oversee the growth of another generation and learn we are no longer the leaders just merely interested by standers. The distance is even greater as Great Grand Parents. The love is there, but the responsibility even thinner than with the original models.
I think the change with daughters is they have a new man to take up the responsibilities a Dad had. Mothers are more romantic and look to all the things a daughter has in store. A Dad lets his "little girl" go. Hard not to be envolved, but the time to let go even for "dear old dad". You know I am not sure we ever finish growing up. Maybe that is what this life is all about. Taking each stage as it come in life and making the best of what we have. Maybe that is why as Latter-day-Saints we are blessed with an eternal plan, a plan of happiness. Growing in each stage as to who we are, what we will eventually be, and staying glued to the truth. I can only fail if I don't set my own goals and keep working toward those set of goals. "When I was a child, I thought as a child", you know I am in the last stage of this great adventure that started on the 7th day of February way back there in 1929. I needed to "grow up" I certainly have "grown old". What a shame if I have missed the one thing that will "lead me into life eternal" by not realizing how important "growing up" fit into the entire plan Father has laid out for us. There are those who have found wealth wasn't enough to give true happiness. Others who have learned "stuff" is not enough even the lack of it is not the cause of misery. Our misery comes from not making the most of what ever it is that we do have. I know I speak only for myself when I say Jay and I were just about as happy as we ever were when we were in that duplex that had a murphy bed that pulled down in the living room; as ever we have been in the nicest place we ever owned. It was a $12.50 a week small furnished (and not too well at that) apartment, but we had our own home, we were a family and we worked out the good and the bad along with the little purse we worked with. Were there better times? You bet! Were there hard times? Absolutely! Would I change any of it? NO! I still remember what it was like doing our first shopping for staples when we got married. Little money so some real sacrifices had to be made. What changes took place when we had our first child. Two kids trying to settle into being responsible for a little one. The loss of our first home and an auto accident that nearly cost me my life. Months of recovery, many surgeries resulted. There isn't a thing we "grew up doing" that I regret or would alter. We grew together in all that "growing up". You know when Jay got sick those last years, I did not want to let anyone else care for him. He had been my "care giver" my "supporter" my "friend" my "lover". His hands had earned a living, provided me with a home, food and clothing. I could never repay him for the things he had given or had done for me. It was my privilege to do what ever was necessary to make him comfortable. When his mind was no long clear. When he didn't know me and said some pretty hard things, I quickly apologized for not meeting his expectations, he had never failed to meet mine. I guess what I am trying to say is life is good. I have been blessed. I am not sure that I will have the blessing of a "forever family", not because I haven't tried to earn one, but because I do not have the final say in the matter. It is not what we desire that brings a desired result, no, it is what we have earned along our "growing up" years that will determine that. We don't make out the report cards here. We only do the lessons, hand in our examination papers along the way and receive the "grade" when we pass beyond the vail. I am so happy to have had the opportunities that have come my way. The hard knocks have raised a bump or two, here and there, I don't notice any of that now. I just know so far, I have enjoyed the journey - yes, every bit of it. I'm still not sure I am "grown up" however. Maybe I never will be. I'm not even sure if that matters. I do know however that it is important that we don't wait on the "other guy" to make the difference. "I will only pass this way but once" if I miss this opportunity, it will not knock again. I have a dear friend who never passed an opportunity to tell me that he loved me. He has alzheimers now and I may never be able to hear him say that again, but I will never stop knowing that he really does love me. He may be changed, but that one fact is "forever". A Mission friend who has a wonderful wife who shared her wonderful husband with me those many months we served together. You know he was noted in the Mission for making everyones day with his expressing his love to everyone he met. He ment it, and we all knew it.
I am content in knowing I have been diligent in trying to meet the challenges and overcoming the discomforts in my life. In this twilight time, my deepest wishes are that I may finish the journey with a smile on my face, a song in my heart and hope the future will find me in the company of those whom I love most dearly.
Written this 18th day of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
learn how to make difficult things for someone you love a little better.
I'm not sure if this was the begining of my thinking about what "growing up" ment or not. I do know that I soon learned I had to be independent, and stand on my own two feet. Maybe even face disappointment head on and not look for anyone to smooth things over for me. There really wasn't anyone there to do it.
Dad and I had a talk about it later. He told me Mom was having a hard time with both the boys
away, and the concern they might not come home, or if they did they might be hurt. I learned just how that makes a Mother feel when I had a son in similar circumstances. Men don't handle those things in the same way, and if a husband has served in a War, he is even less likely to feel the same concerns a Mother does. As Jay was quick to tell me: "hey I got through it". Being on a Ship in the middle of the ocean didn't seem to paint the picture I had in mind of my son dropping out of a helicopter on a rope over a jungle that could hide a sniper with a scope on the end of a rifle. Then I believe I was better prepared for such things because I had been raised in a wholesome family that loved each other (on occasion) and cared deeply about each others welfare.
I was 12 when Pearl Harbor happened - I was 17 when the War ended and my brothers came home. Those were some pretty difficult years for me. Growing up with all the outward pressures as well as all the ones that every young person goes through. Both Ron and Ralph complained I dressed like an "old woman". Which now I take to mean that I had grown up too fast. Then they had missed all the in between changes that had taken place. What was even more alarming to them was I was talking about joining the Lady Marines when I graduated. You would have thought I was offering to join a "house of ill repute" the way they both carried on.
I don't know I gave up the idea, rather I was too scared to follow through from all the horror stories they had to tell about women in the service. I am sure now that some of that was true, but I am just a sure there were others who served without all the ugliness. Well, I never found out so that is the end of that!
I guess my biggest concern was how I would ever find someone to marry. I didn't date much, in fact I had been going steady during my Sophomore thru early Senior years at High School. Same guy. In fact we even got engaged before he left for the Navy after his graduation. My Mom wasn't happy about it, but then I didn't seem to do much to make her happy back then. Dad didn't say much. It was long after that I learned the guy's (Bill) parents had come to the house while I was away and told my folks they wanted the engagement ended, and as much as told my parents it was their job to see it happened. I don't know why this was never discussed with me. Maybe because they had a similar incident with Willetta's parents after she and Ron ran away and eloped after he came back from the War. Of little consequence. His family did a great job of seeing things went their way - I am eternally greatful it work out that way.
I won't get into detail about all of this. Just a short overview. I was attending High School half a day and working half a day in my Senior year. There was still a shortage of workers, and I had a good paying job. I didn't need the credits two more classes would have given me, so I had a work permit. Bill would write he needed money, the Navy didn't pay enough. I was saving for a Wedding Dress, but would rob the fund to send him an extra $20.00 every once in awhile to help out. (Generous, Stupid and supposedly in Love). One afternoon I got a phone call from Bill's grandmother. She was a great lady and his grandfather a neat old man. They invited me over the next week-end for a visit. I was thrilled. When I got there they explained they had waited until Bill's parents were out of the house, they lived with them at the time. Grandma explained to me she felt I was being "used" and it was not "fair". She showed me a letter that had come to Bill's parents the week before and told me they had sat and laughed about what was in it. She wasn't usually a snope, but it got her interest, and concern up, so she looked for the letter. When she read it she was really upset. Needless to say, so was I when I read it. It seems the money I had so generously sent was used to take other girls out. He was having a blast! I didn't stay long after I read the letter. Grandma Huffman told me she thought I was too nice a girl and was being faithful to be treated so badly. You know, I thought so too.
By the time I had arrived back at my house, I was really boiling and had plenty of steam up to set down and write a hugh letter. Needless to say, I was not engaged when I finished. Oh, within a week I got a very "sweet" letter from Bill trying to explain away the whole thing, but it feel on very deaf ears. I spent the last part of my Senior Year attending everything "stag". Not a fun way to end your School Years. Not a good way to find out about how rotten some people are, or can be. The lesson was not wasted on me. When the dating started after I graduated and went to work full time, I was careful on whom I spent my time with.
I met Jay some months later, we were matched from that first date. I had found my
"Mr. Right" and lived if not happily ever after, as happy as I deserved to be. Bill? Well he came around when he got out of the Navy and tried to pick up where he thought he had left off. He knew I had married, but in the conversation he assured me that didn't make any difference (rather big of him I thought). I could get a divorce and we would get married. I don't know why he thought at the time I looked so pale, or was still in my robe and slippers. When I asked him: "what will we do with what is laying on the bed in Mom's bedroom?" He stolled in to see, came back a bit shocked but still had the brass to say: "I'll adopt the baby". Generous to a fault. Of course he was talking about Paul who was then just a few days old. Even more brassey when you think Jay was working on our car in the driveway with Ralph when he came to the house. You know he showed up at my door the morning after his Wedding to another girl and asked why I wasn't at his Wedding. I simply explained: "because I did not received an invitation". My parents and my brother and his wife went. They were all invited. His comment was: "Well, you knew I wanted you there." I said: "apparently Lucille didn't". He came around again when Paul was about 2 years old, I was polite, but just barely. I didn't see him again, fortunately.
Do I wish things would have been different? I am not sure. The constant theme in my life has been peppered with some hard times that made me stand up, take my whacks and move along. I believe the things that made me sensitive were the things I needed to learn to make me a rounded person. I know I am opinionated - that comes from having to stand my ground. I may be wrong, but I have never been so shy that I can't apologizing when I find my error. I believe what I learned the best was everyone has to live their own life. When they make a choice, it is theirs to deal with, bring on what it may. Today it seems people feel they need to be excused from things rather than make the best of them as they are. I don't believe you can change a person. If we take them to begin with, then you have to work through until you work out what ever comes.
Jay had once said he was amased at how envolved I had been in the kids lives when they were at home and how I had stepped aside when they left home. I guess membership in the Church had a lot to do with that. When I put Paul on the airplane to go to Salt Lake and the Mission Home when he was 19, I had a long talk with the Lord on the way back from Bakersfield. The Lord had loaned him to me for 19 years, now I was turning him back to have the Lord work with him for 2 years. What I sent away was a boy, what the Lord would deliver back would be a man. And so it was. He was a "free agent". Owner of his own stewardship. My influence was what it ever would be. The ground work done, I needed to be graceful and "let go". Yes, growing up is hard to do, but a necessary part of being a Mother or Father for that matter. Maybe that is why Father in Heaven allows us to be Grand Mothers and Grand Fathers. We can oversee the growth of another generation and learn we are no longer the leaders just merely interested by standers. The distance is even greater as Great Grand Parents. The love is there, but the responsibility even thinner than with the original models.
I think the change with daughters is they have a new man to take up the responsibilities a Dad had. Mothers are more romantic and look to all the things a daughter has in store. A Dad lets his "little girl" go. Hard not to be envolved, but the time to let go even for "dear old dad". You know I am not sure we ever finish growing up. Maybe that is what this life is all about. Taking each stage as it come in life and making the best of what we have. Maybe that is why as Latter-day-Saints we are blessed with an eternal plan, a plan of happiness. Growing in each stage as to who we are, what we will eventually be, and staying glued to the truth. I can only fail if I don't set my own goals and keep working toward those set of goals. "When I was a child, I thought as a child", you know I am in the last stage of this great adventure that started on the 7th day of February way back there in 1929. I needed to "grow up" I certainly have "grown old". What a shame if I have missed the one thing that will "lead me into life eternal" by not realizing how important "growing up" fit into the entire plan Father has laid out for us. There are those who have found wealth wasn't enough to give true happiness. Others who have learned "stuff" is not enough even the lack of it is not the cause of misery. Our misery comes from not making the most of what ever it is that we do have. I know I speak only for myself when I say Jay and I were just about as happy as we ever were when we were in that duplex that had a murphy bed that pulled down in the living room; as ever we have been in the nicest place we ever owned. It was a $12.50 a week small furnished (and not too well at that) apartment, but we had our own home, we were a family and we worked out the good and the bad along with the little purse we worked with. Were there better times? You bet! Were there hard times? Absolutely! Would I change any of it? NO! I still remember what it was like doing our first shopping for staples when we got married. Little money so some real sacrifices had to be made. What changes took place when we had our first child. Two kids trying to settle into being responsible for a little one. The loss of our first home and an auto accident that nearly cost me my life. Months of recovery, many surgeries resulted. There isn't a thing we "grew up doing" that I regret or would alter. We grew together in all that "growing up". You know when Jay got sick those last years, I did not want to let anyone else care for him. He had been my "care giver" my "supporter" my "friend" my "lover". His hands had earned a living, provided me with a home, food and clothing. I could never repay him for the things he had given or had done for me. It was my privilege to do what ever was necessary to make him comfortable. When his mind was no long clear. When he didn't know me and said some pretty hard things, I quickly apologized for not meeting his expectations, he had never failed to meet mine. I guess what I am trying to say is life is good. I have been blessed. I am not sure that I will have the blessing of a "forever family", not because I haven't tried to earn one, but because I do not have the final say in the matter. It is not what we desire that brings a desired result, no, it is what we have earned along our "growing up" years that will determine that. We don't make out the report cards here. We only do the lessons, hand in our examination papers along the way and receive the "grade" when we pass beyond the vail. I am so happy to have had the opportunities that have come my way. The hard knocks have raised a bump or two, here and there, I don't notice any of that now. I just know so far, I have enjoyed the journey - yes, every bit of it. I'm still not sure I am "grown up" however. Maybe I never will be. I'm not even sure if that matters. I do know however that it is important that we don't wait on the "other guy" to make the difference. "I will only pass this way but once" if I miss this opportunity, it will not knock again. I have a dear friend who never passed an opportunity to tell me that he loved me. He has alzheimers now and I may never be able to hear him say that again, but I will never stop knowing that he really does love me. He may be changed, but that one fact is "forever". A Mission friend who has a wonderful wife who shared her wonderful husband with me those many months we served together. You know he was noted in the Mission for making everyones day with his expressing his love to everyone he met. He ment it, and we all knew it.
I am content in knowing I have been diligent in trying to meet the challenges and overcoming the discomforts in my life. In this twilight time, my deepest wishes are that I may finish the journey with a smile on my face, a song in my heart and hope the future will find me in the company of those whom I love most dearly.
Written this 18th day of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Sunday, January 17, 2010
I Love Elder Hostels
You know I found out about Elder Hostels while reading a Readers Digest. It took some checking to find out how to go to one. Now I know all I have to do is go to the Local Library, and they have one of their current cataloges on file. If you don't know about them, let me tell you!
Almost every college anywhere offers Elder Hostels. You just have to find one that is offering a subject you are interested in. Jay and I went to Utah for our first experience. We stayed at Dixie College and studied Ghost Towns of Southern Utah. We learned all about the Movies that were made in the area and heard stories about John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara and Susan Hayward when they were in St George, Utah making movies. We slept in the Dormatory and held some of the classes in the College itself. We had an old fashioned Dutch Oven Dinner in the Park and visited one of the Pioneer Grave Yards. We had some fabulous meals and great people to enjoy all the activities with. The price was right, and we could drive.
We met a women from Pennsylvania who had flown in. She had all her "stuff" in a duffle bag and had hiked down carrying it on her shoulder from the hilltop airport. She picked her Elder Hostels starting from the furtherest point from her home and then made her way back by attending different programs across the US until she returned home. She told us she rarely had to find a way from one appointment to the next. There always seemed to be someone who would offer her a ride. I'd say she was in her early 60's. Sure enough at the end of our classes, one of the gentlemen in the group was going to a college further East and would be happy to drop her off on his way to his next Hostel, which just happened to be for a band. Everyone would bring their own instrument, work with all the other Hostelers and for their finale they would put on a concert for the locals. He had gone to France and did a bicycle tour once. There doesn't seem to be an end of possiblities.
You rarely find someone like us just starting out. Most in the groups have done 20 or more. I believe Jay and I would have continued if his health had not failed so rapidly. We both enjoyed them. Always picking one that we could drive to. I think the most memorable one was in Trinidad Colorado. We went to learn about the Santa Fe Trail. The man who made the weeks
Class schedule was aging and they weren't sure just how much longer he would be able to do it.
I never saw it advertised after we went, so I guess he gave up. Our meals were prepared by the Marriott Hotel in town. What a feast that turned out to be. The housing was in the Dorms and the bathroom was on the second floor while we were on the first floor. Not all the helpful.
We learned how to make adobe bricks on this one. Not of great use, but darned interesting.
We went to Sadona, Arizona and studied the Hopi Indians and the forest and desert of the area.
We stayed in a Motel for this one and ate in a resturant. We went to Placerville, CA and leaned all about the Gold Rush. It was on this one we heard about a man who had been a very interest-
ing character back in those "good old days". His name was the same as one of the men Jay had served with on board the LSM330. I wrote to him after we had come home and asked if he knew this man. He wrote back and said yes, he was his Great Grand Father. He hadn't heard any of the stories and had no pictures of the old gentleman. I sent him the names and addresses of the people who had put on the seminar so he could get a copy of the information and a picture
for his records. We went to the State Fair Grounds and learned about the work being done there. They were extracting all the medical records they found for genealogy and had boxes of pictures they had gathered. Inviting anyone interested to go through and see if they could recognize any of them. Most had no identification. What a loss if they could not tell who all those gold rush people were.
We went to Kingman, Arizona and attended there. Geology, rock hounding, etc. We went to Oatman and saw the wild donkeys. When the miners died or gave up their prospecting, they just left their animals wander and they have multiplied and pretty well taken over that town.
We talked up Hosteling and a couple of the LSM 330 joined in and went to Europe to do things in England. Easy for them, they are retired Naval Officers and have travel availablity.
I think we made 7 before we had to quit. I would love to go again. You don't have to have a partner, if you don't mind paying for a single, or if you wouldn't mind sharing, you can take a chance of a partner. Either way, it is a fun way to learn, and see some of the country as well. Just about anything you would find of interest is offered somewhere. You can even go on a Safari if your brave and don't mind taking all the shots required.
Oh, you have to be a Senior Citizen to take advantage of this. Something for you younger folks to put on the back burner and try out when you are fortunate to become "empty nesters".
Oh, something else we learned in Trinidad, Colorado. What the "picket wire" really is. In so many of the Western Movies you hear them talk about the "picket wire". Cattle drives were either East or West of the "picket wire." We were taken to the river outside Trinidad and told the story about a group of French Soldiers who were killed by Indians as they camped by the River. There after it was named the "Pergitory River" and the Westerners couldn't pronounce the name like the French - thus it was known as the "picket wire". I thought it was some kind of a fence, but it was a river. So you can learn some pretty interesting things. And we did!
Written this 18th day of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Almost every college anywhere offers Elder Hostels. You just have to find one that is offering a subject you are interested in. Jay and I went to Utah for our first experience. We stayed at Dixie College and studied Ghost Towns of Southern Utah. We learned all about the Movies that were made in the area and heard stories about John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara and Susan Hayward when they were in St George, Utah making movies. We slept in the Dormatory and held some of the classes in the College itself. We had an old fashioned Dutch Oven Dinner in the Park and visited one of the Pioneer Grave Yards. We had some fabulous meals and great people to enjoy all the activities with. The price was right, and we could drive.
We met a women from Pennsylvania who had flown in. She had all her "stuff" in a duffle bag and had hiked down carrying it on her shoulder from the hilltop airport. She picked her Elder Hostels starting from the furtherest point from her home and then made her way back by attending different programs across the US until she returned home. She told us she rarely had to find a way from one appointment to the next. There always seemed to be someone who would offer her a ride. I'd say she was in her early 60's. Sure enough at the end of our classes, one of the gentlemen in the group was going to a college further East and would be happy to drop her off on his way to his next Hostel, which just happened to be for a band. Everyone would bring their own instrument, work with all the other Hostelers and for their finale they would put on a concert for the locals. He had gone to France and did a bicycle tour once. There doesn't seem to be an end of possiblities.
You rarely find someone like us just starting out. Most in the groups have done 20 or more. I believe Jay and I would have continued if his health had not failed so rapidly. We both enjoyed them. Always picking one that we could drive to. I think the most memorable one was in Trinidad Colorado. We went to learn about the Santa Fe Trail. The man who made the weeks
Class schedule was aging and they weren't sure just how much longer he would be able to do it.
I never saw it advertised after we went, so I guess he gave up. Our meals were prepared by the Marriott Hotel in town. What a feast that turned out to be. The housing was in the Dorms and the bathroom was on the second floor while we were on the first floor. Not all the helpful.
We learned how to make adobe bricks on this one. Not of great use, but darned interesting.
We went to Sadona, Arizona and studied the Hopi Indians and the forest and desert of the area.
We stayed in a Motel for this one and ate in a resturant. We went to Placerville, CA and leaned all about the Gold Rush. It was on this one we heard about a man who had been a very interest-
ing character back in those "good old days". His name was the same as one of the men Jay had served with on board the LSM330. I wrote to him after we had come home and asked if he knew this man. He wrote back and said yes, he was his Great Grand Father. He hadn't heard any of the stories and had no pictures of the old gentleman. I sent him the names and addresses of the people who had put on the seminar so he could get a copy of the information and a picture
for his records. We went to the State Fair Grounds and learned about the work being done there. They were extracting all the medical records they found for genealogy and had boxes of pictures they had gathered. Inviting anyone interested to go through and see if they could recognize any of them. Most had no identification. What a loss if they could not tell who all those gold rush people were.
We went to Kingman, Arizona and attended there. Geology, rock hounding, etc. We went to Oatman and saw the wild donkeys. When the miners died or gave up their prospecting, they just left their animals wander and they have multiplied and pretty well taken over that town.
We talked up Hosteling and a couple of the LSM 330 joined in and went to Europe to do things in England. Easy for them, they are retired Naval Officers and have travel availablity.
I think we made 7 before we had to quit. I would love to go again. You don't have to have a partner, if you don't mind paying for a single, or if you wouldn't mind sharing, you can take a chance of a partner. Either way, it is a fun way to learn, and see some of the country as well. Just about anything you would find of interest is offered somewhere. You can even go on a Safari if your brave and don't mind taking all the shots required.
Oh, you have to be a Senior Citizen to take advantage of this. Something for you younger folks to put on the back burner and try out when you are fortunate to become "empty nesters".
Oh, something else we learned in Trinidad, Colorado. What the "picket wire" really is. In so many of the Western Movies you hear them talk about the "picket wire". Cattle drives were either East or West of the "picket wire." We were taken to the river outside Trinidad and told the story about a group of French Soldiers who were killed by Indians as they camped by the River. There after it was named the "Pergitory River" and the Westerners couldn't pronounce the name like the French - thus it was known as the "picket wire". I thought it was some kind of a fence, but it was a river. So you can learn some pretty interesting things. And we did!
Written this 18th day of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
I loved to fly - however, now I believe I'll pass!
I remember the first flight I took. It was when Jay was in San Francisco when he was on the USS Menifee APA 220. He had been assigned to her to get her ready to be recomissioned for use in the Korean Conflict. (They didn't call that one a War to start with). All the wives were invited to attend the ceremony and of course I had to go. The only way to get up there and back was to fly. I had never been off the ground before, and was scared to death the plane would crash. Back then the planes were two seats on each side of the isle and not nearly as nicely outfitted then as they are now. Of course you did have one advantage, they fed you back in those days.
I remember my brother Ralph took me to the Airport in Los Angeles. I was on a flight with TWA. That was the biggest line at the time. Ralph had been a Paratrooper during WWII and jumped out of something much more ventilated than what I was going up in. He was very supportive, but little he said made me feel any safer. I guess I had a lot of Grandma Hall in me. She would'nt even go up in a tower at Gettysberg. Well I got on that plane, and hoped I wouldn't get sick. I was setting next to the window. That can be a good thing, or bad. In this case it was bad! If you have never flown into San Francisco you will not enjoy the thrill it is to land there.
When they announced we were approaching the Airfield and would be landing shortly, I was a bit releived this was about to end. Then I looked out the window. Nothing but water. We came in over the bay, and the approach was "forever". Water, water everywhere. The lower we got the more concerned I was. I just knew we would soon be in the "drink" and though they had given us instructions about a water landing, and where the floatation things were, I wasn't sure I could find it. We kept coming closer and closer to the touch down, with not one piece of tera ferma in sight. Then there was a dry patch, not big, but it was showing signs of ground. By the time I had made up my mind there was something solid down there, I felt the wheels touch down and the plane come to a glide into the terminal.
Here I was in San Francisco. Not one idea of where I was to go, or even how to get there. I guess the Lord was looking our for me, shaking and alone as I was. The first Cab I found had just returned from taking someone else out for the Ceremony. He knew just where I needed to go. When we got to the ship, it was quite a walk, but I managed, high heels and all to get on board. Then there was the sea of sailors - all dressed up in their dress uniforms. Well I knew who the officers were, but finding Jay was another thing. Luckily he saw me first. He wanted to take me down below to show me where he was staying. If you haven't been on a ship, you may not realize how high the step up is to clear the "door ways". I had on a tight skirt, that was not made for such "high stepping". Jay pretty much had to lift me up and over everyone. Then of course there were the stairs. On one of my up or downs, I don't remember which, one of the sailors, and not the one I was married to, pinched me. Jay thought it was funny, I didn't share in his humor.
We returned topside and went through a very boring ceremony. The crew, or at least a good many of them were given "liberty" and we left the ship. Back into town by Cab and then to find some kind of housing for the time we had. What a dingy Hotel we found. It had a shared bath between the rooms. Hardly a "honeymoon suite". The Ceremony was hardly over when it started to rain. It rained every minute I was in San Francisco. My shoes were ruined, and they were new. I was soaked and my hair was dripping, straight, and a mess. Just what you want when you haven't seen your husband for 3 months.
We found a little bar down the street from the Hotel. It had a huge couch and a wonderful fireplace. We sat in front of that fire and talked and enjoyed the atmosphere of the place. Jay had a couple of drinks, I wasn't much of a drinker, so I had "shirley temples". All in all it was great to see Jay again, but the town and the weather were horrible. I hate San Francisco. Every time I have had to go to that town it has rained.
Well to end this "first flight" experience. Jay took me to the Airport and we said goodbye and I got on that airplane, not AS apprehensive as when I left Los Angeles, but I wasn't anxious to look out the window for the take off I can tell you. I took an isle seat for that one.
I flew a great many times after that, and loved it. Take off, landing, the works. Of course that was when they treated you like you had paid for your ticket and they were interested in you repeating the deal. When they had 911 everyone was afraid to go up in airplanes for awhile. I had planned a re-union for the LSM330 in Tampa, Florida. I had asked my brother Ronald to go with me. He had done so much work on the Book of Remembrance for the 50th get together, and all the men wanted to meet him. Jays health wasn't good at the time. Paul offered to take care of his Dad and Ronald said he would meet me.
Little did either of us know what we had in store for us. Meeting was not one of those things still allowed. Normally, his plane arriving well before mine, he could come and meet me when I got off my flight. NO that was not allowed. The terminal was in a mess. National Guard everywhere with their guns, etc. Lines checking in and trying to find ther connections. I was able to get a page for Ronald. He paged back that he would meet me at a shuttle station. We would join up there so we could get our rental car and get to the Hotel in Tampa. It was a hair raising experience to say the least, but I felt safe flying. After all it had only been a month, and I was sure they wouldn't try anything that soon after 911.
Ronald saw me before I saw him. We were able to get a phone to make arrangements to have someone pick us up to get a car. They were not allowing cars to come into the terminal where we got out. We waited for the pickup car and then went to the Rental Office. By now I was not sure any of this had been such a good idea. We were able to get a car, by now it is dark, neither Ron or I had been in this part of the country before. We got directions to the road we needed to take to get to our destination. Not too short of a drive either, I can tell you.
Something interesting about the Florida Freeways. They don't have that many off ramps. If you miss the one you are looking for, like us, you may have to travel 20 miles to find the next one. Well we finally found an offramp, a mini market, and a Arab that could hardly speak so we knew what he was telling us. Between the two of us we got enough information to find our way back the way we had traveled to the off ramp we needed. Of course I turned right when I should have turned left. When we didn't find the Hotel we were to meet the rest of the group at,
we decided we should turn around. We found a well lite bank parking lot, rechecked our map and headed back the way we had come. Still no Hotel. By now I am tired, and in my usual less that happy mode. It was time to get gas. I spoted a gas station and decided we should stop and
make a phone call. Maybe they could tell me where I was and how to get to where they were.
As I am pumping the gas I chance to look up and see the Hotel across the street. It was not on
the main drag, but on a secondary road just beyond the gas station. I never would have seen it if we hadn't decided to stop get gas and call.
Following the reunion (which was great) Ronald and I drove down to where our cousin Betty Hall Davis and her family had retired to. We had a great two day visit with them before we had to drive back to Orlando for our flights home. We had made arrangements for a Hotel across from the Airport for our last night in Florida. We returned the car just a few blocks from the Hotel and they took us to meet our flights. Ron was dropped off first and then I was left at the terminal for my departure. The same scene I had witnessed coming in was before me as I was trying to leave. Long lines trying to have your ID checked, your baggage gone through and your clearance to find where your plane was leaving. None of those terminals are small. I made it through all the check points and returned home in fair shape.
I have gone a time or two since, but find the hassel with security and baggage was a bit much. I got tired of people dragging their bags on the plane because they didn't want to check them through. Now if you don't drag a small bag, you have to pay for checking baggage. NO I think I will pass on Air Travel except for short hops. I'm too old to hussle to get from one connection to another, or to drag a bag, or try to put what I will need in somethings small enough I don't have to take too big a bag. Driving may take longer, but you know, I can get some thing to eat when I am hungry and go to the bathroom when I need to without waiting my turn. If I want a bottle of water, or some juice to drink I can get a full portion from a mini mart while I gas up. None of this 1/4 can of pop for what they charge. The last time I left Chicago Airport, I wasn't going to get a meal. If you wanted to eat, you had to bring it on board. I am not sure they will even allow that anymore.
Well it really doesn't matter. I doubt I get further away from home than where the girls are living now, and we can drive there. I do love going on the train. It is kind of nostalgic to climb on a train and have a compartment where you can kick back and not have someone breathing down your neck. Yes, I believe I'll pass on the flying. All the fun it was and the great times I had are no longer out there to enjoy. Security has turned into a personal nightmare. I don't have anything to hide, but I sure don't care to have everything I want to use while I am away from home to be checked, double checked or questioned. After all - I travel for pleasure, and there is very little pleasure in what goes on these days.
Written this 17th of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
I remember my brother Ralph took me to the Airport in Los Angeles. I was on a flight with TWA. That was the biggest line at the time. Ralph had been a Paratrooper during WWII and jumped out of something much more ventilated than what I was going up in. He was very supportive, but little he said made me feel any safer. I guess I had a lot of Grandma Hall in me. She would'nt even go up in a tower at Gettysberg. Well I got on that plane, and hoped I wouldn't get sick. I was setting next to the window. That can be a good thing, or bad. In this case it was bad! If you have never flown into San Francisco you will not enjoy the thrill it is to land there.
When they announced we were approaching the Airfield and would be landing shortly, I was a bit releived this was about to end. Then I looked out the window. Nothing but water. We came in over the bay, and the approach was "forever". Water, water everywhere. The lower we got the more concerned I was. I just knew we would soon be in the "drink" and though they had given us instructions about a water landing, and where the floatation things were, I wasn't sure I could find it. We kept coming closer and closer to the touch down, with not one piece of tera ferma in sight. Then there was a dry patch, not big, but it was showing signs of ground. By the time I had made up my mind there was something solid down there, I felt the wheels touch down and the plane come to a glide into the terminal.
Here I was in San Francisco. Not one idea of where I was to go, or even how to get there. I guess the Lord was looking our for me, shaking and alone as I was. The first Cab I found had just returned from taking someone else out for the Ceremony. He knew just where I needed to go. When we got to the ship, it was quite a walk, but I managed, high heels and all to get on board. Then there was the sea of sailors - all dressed up in their dress uniforms. Well I knew who the officers were, but finding Jay was another thing. Luckily he saw me first. He wanted to take me down below to show me where he was staying. If you haven't been on a ship, you may not realize how high the step up is to clear the "door ways". I had on a tight skirt, that was not made for such "high stepping". Jay pretty much had to lift me up and over everyone. Then of course there were the stairs. On one of my up or downs, I don't remember which, one of the sailors, and not the one I was married to, pinched me. Jay thought it was funny, I didn't share in his humor.
We returned topside and went through a very boring ceremony. The crew, or at least a good many of them were given "liberty" and we left the ship. Back into town by Cab and then to find some kind of housing for the time we had. What a dingy Hotel we found. It had a shared bath between the rooms. Hardly a "honeymoon suite". The Ceremony was hardly over when it started to rain. It rained every minute I was in San Francisco. My shoes were ruined, and they were new. I was soaked and my hair was dripping, straight, and a mess. Just what you want when you haven't seen your husband for 3 months.
We found a little bar down the street from the Hotel. It had a huge couch and a wonderful fireplace. We sat in front of that fire and talked and enjoyed the atmosphere of the place. Jay had a couple of drinks, I wasn't much of a drinker, so I had "shirley temples". All in all it was great to see Jay again, but the town and the weather were horrible. I hate San Francisco. Every time I have had to go to that town it has rained.
Well to end this "first flight" experience. Jay took me to the Airport and we said goodbye and I got on that airplane, not AS apprehensive as when I left Los Angeles, but I wasn't anxious to look out the window for the take off I can tell you. I took an isle seat for that one.
I flew a great many times after that, and loved it. Take off, landing, the works. Of course that was when they treated you like you had paid for your ticket and they were interested in you repeating the deal. When they had 911 everyone was afraid to go up in airplanes for awhile. I had planned a re-union for the LSM330 in Tampa, Florida. I had asked my brother Ronald to go with me. He had done so much work on the Book of Remembrance for the 50th get together, and all the men wanted to meet him. Jays health wasn't good at the time. Paul offered to take care of his Dad and Ronald said he would meet me.
Little did either of us know what we had in store for us. Meeting was not one of those things still allowed. Normally, his plane arriving well before mine, he could come and meet me when I got off my flight. NO that was not allowed. The terminal was in a mess. National Guard everywhere with their guns, etc. Lines checking in and trying to find ther connections. I was able to get a page for Ronald. He paged back that he would meet me at a shuttle station. We would join up there so we could get our rental car and get to the Hotel in Tampa. It was a hair raising experience to say the least, but I felt safe flying. After all it had only been a month, and I was sure they wouldn't try anything that soon after 911.
Ronald saw me before I saw him. We were able to get a phone to make arrangements to have someone pick us up to get a car. They were not allowing cars to come into the terminal where we got out. We waited for the pickup car and then went to the Rental Office. By now I was not sure any of this had been such a good idea. We were able to get a car, by now it is dark, neither Ron or I had been in this part of the country before. We got directions to the road we needed to take to get to our destination. Not too short of a drive either, I can tell you.
Something interesting about the Florida Freeways. They don't have that many off ramps. If you miss the one you are looking for, like us, you may have to travel 20 miles to find the next one. Well we finally found an offramp, a mini market, and a Arab that could hardly speak so we knew what he was telling us. Between the two of us we got enough information to find our way back the way we had traveled to the off ramp we needed. Of course I turned right when I should have turned left. When we didn't find the Hotel we were to meet the rest of the group at,
we decided we should turn around. We found a well lite bank parking lot, rechecked our map and headed back the way we had come. Still no Hotel. By now I am tired, and in my usual less that happy mode. It was time to get gas. I spoted a gas station and decided we should stop and
make a phone call. Maybe they could tell me where I was and how to get to where they were.
As I am pumping the gas I chance to look up and see the Hotel across the street. It was not on
the main drag, but on a secondary road just beyond the gas station. I never would have seen it if we hadn't decided to stop get gas and call.
Following the reunion (which was great) Ronald and I drove down to where our cousin Betty Hall Davis and her family had retired to. We had a great two day visit with them before we had to drive back to Orlando for our flights home. We had made arrangements for a Hotel across from the Airport for our last night in Florida. We returned the car just a few blocks from the Hotel and they took us to meet our flights. Ron was dropped off first and then I was left at the terminal for my departure. The same scene I had witnessed coming in was before me as I was trying to leave. Long lines trying to have your ID checked, your baggage gone through and your clearance to find where your plane was leaving. None of those terminals are small. I made it through all the check points and returned home in fair shape.
I have gone a time or two since, but find the hassel with security and baggage was a bit much. I got tired of people dragging their bags on the plane because they didn't want to check them through. Now if you don't drag a small bag, you have to pay for checking baggage. NO I think I will pass on Air Travel except for short hops. I'm too old to hussle to get from one connection to another, or to drag a bag, or try to put what I will need in somethings small enough I don't have to take too big a bag. Driving may take longer, but you know, I can get some thing to eat when I am hungry and go to the bathroom when I need to without waiting my turn. If I want a bottle of water, or some juice to drink I can get a full portion from a mini mart while I gas up. None of this 1/4 can of pop for what they charge. The last time I left Chicago Airport, I wasn't going to get a meal. If you wanted to eat, you had to bring it on board. I am not sure they will even allow that anymore.
Well it really doesn't matter. I doubt I get further away from home than where the girls are living now, and we can drive there. I do love going on the train. It is kind of nostalgic to climb on a train and have a compartment where you can kick back and not have someone breathing down your neck. Yes, I believe I'll pass on the flying. All the fun it was and the great times I had are no longer out there to enjoy. Security has turned into a personal nightmare. I don't have anything to hide, but I sure don't care to have everything I want to use while I am away from home to be checked, double checked or questioned. After all - I travel for pleasure, and there is very little pleasure in what goes on these days.
Written this 17th of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Monday, January 11, 2010
What About Camping?
Yes, what about it! It was one of the favorite things our family did. Our family was started back in 1947, however I don't remember us doing much camping until after 1954 when Dawn joined us. The one time I really remember was when she was about 2 years old or so. We had that little Hilman car. When we started out for the Big Sur camping areas we must have looked like we were moving altogether. That little car was so loaded, I am surprise we even made it up the highway without something breaking down. I suppose that was my doing. I always seemed to pack far more than we needed no matter where we were headed.
We didn't go into a State Camping Area. There were a number of them where we decided to stop, but Jay found this one along the creek. We drove down and set up the Tent. That would be the old one Dad and Mom used when I was little. It smelled of the material that made it waterproof. Nothing like the modern easy to raise tents most folks have these days. Jay set the camp stove up and our other gear. It was a great spot. We could hear the water as it made its way out to the ocean. The beach wasn't much to write home about, but the water was deep enough for us to paddle around in safely, all but Dawn that is.
Paul was playing in the water while Jay laid in the sun. He hadn't planned on swimming, he was just there keeping an eye on Paul. It was warm, he was relaxed, and I was up at the Tent area fixing lunch for the family. Dawn had just been there at the table. I got busy, Jay was by now dozing. We are greatful there were others around. Paul yelled: "No sister". He was too late. She had walked out into shallow enough water for a couple of steps then down she went as the water got too deep for her short legs. Paul was about 7 at the time. He wasn't able to reach her, her Dad was too far, as was I. Thankfully someone dove for her and brought her up sputtering for air. She did not sence the danger, she just wanted to have fun in the water with the rest. For the rest of our time there, she waited until we could hold her before she went into that creek. It was much too deep.
A side note might be worth adding here. Back then, you never saw all the floatation gear so common for todays aquatic kids. You can put a baby into deep water these days with all the gadgets available. Back then, they just were not heard of. Time? Probably 1956 - just before we went to the Temple to be sealed as a family.
The area we camped at was washed out sometime later. There is still camping, but not like we used than. The Cafe by the road is still there. In fact we have stopped a time or two and had lunch while on a trip north. Sad to have lost such a special camp ground. Of course so many of the Camp Grounds now have to be reserved way in advance if you want to spend time. More people now who have desire to enjoy the out of doors than when we were first doing it.
I guess our last and great trips were going to Paradise Point outside Indio, California. Jay had bought a boat and a camper for our pickup. We spent many a wonderful week-end vacation down there. That too is no longer like it was when we went. Floods seem to have come in after we were through with our visits. How fortunate we feel to have had such great experiences. We took friends and families down there to enjoy the water skiing and camping. I wouldn't change one of those trips for anything we could do today. Too many people trying to cram too much into too small a space of time.
I think I will remember the preparations that went into those trips longer than I will all the time we were camping. It was so much fun to figure out what to fix, and what to pack. I always seemed to get eat'n by all the bugs that never seemed to know anyone else was around. I think the "no seeums" at Paradise Point were the worst. I was told afterward if I would have rubbed bacon grease on myself, they would have left me alone. I am not sure I could have stood that remedy either.
On these particular trips we always took the little dogs with us. Sissy and Rusty. It was so hot down there, they would lay around in the grass and were so good. On the trip home, without air conditioning in the pickup, we would wet down towels and lay them on the front seat and cover them with another wet towel. They would have the benefit of the air blowing on the wet towels to keep them comfortable on the journey out of the desert. We did have a water unit that went in the window of the truck, but it was more bother than it was worth. Air Conditioning enjoyed today in all cars, trucks, van, etc. was not an option back then. Just goes to show how many things have improved over the years. If you never did without, you have no idea just how great these things are. As for myself, I wonder how we did it, and then, I am so glad we didn't know any different. We had such great times, and enjoyed nature and the boat so much. It wasn't fancy, but it was sure worth it. Change may be great, but it won't replace the good times we enjoyed as a family in the more rustic camping areas of those days. It wasn't roughing it, but it
certainly was a great deal different than how things are done now.
Written this 11th day of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
We didn't go into a State Camping Area. There were a number of them where we decided to stop, but Jay found this one along the creek. We drove down and set up the Tent. That would be the old one Dad and Mom used when I was little. It smelled of the material that made it waterproof. Nothing like the modern easy to raise tents most folks have these days. Jay set the camp stove up and our other gear. It was a great spot. We could hear the water as it made its way out to the ocean. The beach wasn't much to write home about, but the water was deep enough for us to paddle around in safely, all but Dawn that is.
Paul was playing in the water while Jay laid in the sun. He hadn't planned on swimming, he was just there keeping an eye on Paul. It was warm, he was relaxed, and I was up at the Tent area fixing lunch for the family. Dawn had just been there at the table. I got busy, Jay was by now dozing. We are greatful there were others around. Paul yelled: "No sister". He was too late. She had walked out into shallow enough water for a couple of steps then down she went as the water got too deep for her short legs. Paul was about 7 at the time. He wasn't able to reach her, her Dad was too far, as was I. Thankfully someone dove for her and brought her up sputtering for air. She did not sence the danger, she just wanted to have fun in the water with the rest. For the rest of our time there, she waited until we could hold her before she went into that creek. It was much too deep.
A side note might be worth adding here. Back then, you never saw all the floatation gear so common for todays aquatic kids. You can put a baby into deep water these days with all the gadgets available. Back then, they just were not heard of. Time? Probably 1956 - just before we went to the Temple to be sealed as a family.
The area we camped at was washed out sometime later. There is still camping, but not like we used than. The Cafe by the road is still there. In fact we have stopped a time or two and had lunch while on a trip north. Sad to have lost such a special camp ground. Of course so many of the Camp Grounds now have to be reserved way in advance if you want to spend time. More people now who have desire to enjoy the out of doors than when we were first doing it.
I guess our last and great trips were going to Paradise Point outside Indio, California. Jay had bought a boat and a camper for our pickup. We spent many a wonderful week-end vacation down there. That too is no longer like it was when we went. Floods seem to have come in after we were through with our visits. How fortunate we feel to have had such great experiences. We took friends and families down there to enjoy the water skiing and camping. I wouldn't change one of those trips for anything we could do today. Too many people trying to cram too much into too small a space of time.
I think I will remember the preparations that went into those trips longer than I will all the time we were camping. It was so much fun to figure out what to fix, and what to pack. I always seemed to get eat'n by all the bugs that never seemed to know anyone else was around. I think the "no seeums" at Paradise Point were the worst. I was told afterward if I would have rubbed bacon grease on myself, they would have left me alone. I am not sure I could have stood that remedy either.
On these particular trips we always took the little dogs with us. Sissy and Rusty. It was so hot down there, they would lay around in the grass and were so good. On the trip home, without air conditioning in the pickup, we would wet down towels and lay them on the front seat and cover them with another wet towel. They would have the benefit of the air blowing on the wet towels to keep them comfortable on the journey out of the desert. We did have a water unit that went in the window of the truck, but it was more bother than it was worth. Air Conditioning enjoyed today in all cars, trucks, van, etc. was not an option back then. Just goes to show how many things have improved over the years. If you never did without, you have no idea just how great these things are. As for myself, I wonder how we did it, and then, I am so glad we didn't know any different. We had such great times, and enjoyed nature and the boat so much. It wasn't fancy, but it was sure worth it. Change may be great, but it won't replace the good times we enjoyed as a family in the more rustic camping areas of those days. It wasn't roughing it, but it
certainly was a great deal different than how things are done now.
Written this 11th day of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
What Did I Break, and How?
I beleive I went through the leg incident. I was just about 7 years old when that happened. No need to go there again. Then I remembered about my left little finger. I was in the 7th grade at
Gage Junior High School. At recess we were playing Kickball. I never really was very good at sports, well beside swimming and diving that is. I was charging an incoming ball, stuck out my hand and it hit me right on the tip of my little finger. I pulled back my hand, but the damage was already done.
At the end of recess I went to my next class, as I recall it was with Miss Alice Knoff (one of my most favorite teachers in Junior High School). She noticed me, and came over to ask what was the matter. I told her about the accident and she immediately sent me to the office to see the School Nurse. It didn't take her long to evaluate the condition. She called my Mother and I was taken to the Dr. I suppose at that time it was Dr. Ward in Walnut Park, just over the Huntington Park border off Florence Avenue.
I don't recall them doing any x-rays. The Doctor set the finger and put my "pinky" in a splint, and wrapped the finger so the break would heal. I believe it was more painful than the break in my leg. Of course that one did not need to be put back into place. Whatever, I spent a miserable 6 weeks with it. No more PE classes or active recess til the end of the semester as I recall. Needless to say I wasn't anxious to play anyway. Doesn't take much of a slam like that to make one shy of flying kickballs.
Gage Avenue holds a great many memories for me. It was where I was attending when December the 7th happened. I don't believe I shall ever forget the day after. War! At the time none of us realized how long it would last, or just how many changes it would bring into our lives. As bad as it was, we never had to see our homes bombed, or people dead or dying in the streets as they did in Europe. In fact, we as a nation have been overly blessed that any War we have had a part in has never brought the fighting home.
I had my first real "graduation" from Gage Avenue. The first time I experienced the intergration from another school into the group of friends I had made at Pacific Blvd. Elementary School. From a small class to a bigger one. Not that it was all that big really. We ended up with the Winter Class of 1947 having only 93 Students. I believe I have said before, at this time the Los Angeles School System had a two semester schedule. If you came into the 9th grade in January/February you were concidered the Winter Class. If you came into the 9th grad in June/September you were the Summer Class. I started School in Pennsylvania, so was not added by the age standard of California. I started First Grade in California. I had already been in First Grade in Pennsylvania. There was no Kindergarten in either State at that time. Oh, that would have 1938. (ancient I know, but hush!)
The change from Junior High Campus to that of Huntington Park High School was pretty scarey. Of course my house was only two doors from campus and HPHS, so I never had the walk I had before. I could hear the tardy bell and still be in class on time. Because the High School had a Swimming Pool it was best to get your PE class either last period before lunch, or last period of the day. Otherwise, for the girls that is, you had the rest of your classes with wet hair. What a horror that was. Back then any girl wouldn't be caught dead with her wet and straggely. Just goes to show how times and style change. She wouldn't have been caught with her knees showing either. The style then was sweaters and skirts. Penny Loafers or Saddle Oxfords for shoes. Bobby Sox, no bear feet on the sidewalk, or in shoes.
The boys didn't mind their hair being wet, but it was always cut short, and combed neat. They wore Cordaroy pants or slacks. Dress shoes or Basketball shoes, which were leather. Styles for men were pretty classey back then.
I digress - sorry about that. Just got into the time slot, and got lost in thought. Some pretty good memories back then. Been fun looking back!
Written this 11th day of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Gage Junior High School. At recess we were playing Kickball. I never really was very good at sports, well beside swimming and diving that is. I was charging an incoming ball, stuck out my hand and it hit me right on the tip of my little finger. I pulled back my hand, but the damage was already done.
At the end of recess I went to my next class, as I recall it was with Miss Alice Knoff (one of my most favorite teachers in Junior High School). She noticed me, and came over to ask what was the matter. I told her about the accident and she immediately sent me to the office to see the School Nurse. It didn't take her long to evaluate the condition. She called my Mother and I was taken to the Dr. I suppose at that time it was Dr. Ward in Walnut Park, just over the Huntington Park border off Florence Avenue.
I don't recall them doing any x-rays. The Doctor set the finger and put my "pinky" in a splint, and wrapped the finger so the break would heal. I believe it was more painful than the break in my leg. Of course that one did not need to be put back into place. Whatever, I spent a miserable 6 weeks with it. No more PE classes or active recess til the end of the semester as I recall. Needless to say I wasn't anxious to play anyway. Doesn't take much of a slam like that to make one shy of flying kickballs.
Gage Avenue holds a great many memories for me. It was where I was attending when December the 7th happened. I don't believe I shall ever forget the day after. War! At the time none of us realized how long it would last, or just how many changes it would bring into our lives. As bad as it was, we never had to see our homes bombed, or people dead or dying in the streets as they did in Europe. In fact, we as a nation have been overly blessed that any War we have had a part in has never brought the fighting home.
I had my first real "graduation" from Gage Avenue. The first time I experienced the intergration from another school into the group of friends I had made at Pacific Blvd. Elementary School. From a small class to a bigger one. Not that it was all that big really. We ended up with the Winter Class of 1947 having only 93 Students. I believe I have said before, at this time the Los Angeles School System had a two semester schedule. If you came into the 9th grade in January/February you were concidered the Winter Class. If you came into the 9th grad in June/September you were the Summer Class. I started School in Pennsylvania, so was not added by the age standard of California. I started First Grade in California. I had already been in First Grade in Pennsylvania. There was no Kindergarten in either State at that time. Oh, that would have 1938. (ancient I know, but hush!)
The change from Junior High Campus to that of Huntington Park High School was pretty scarey. Of course my house was only two doors from campus and HPHS, so I never had the walk I had before. I could hear the tardy bell and still be in class on time. Because the High School had a Swimming Pool it was best to get your PE class either last period before lunch, or last period of the day. Otherwise, for the girls that is, you had the rest of your classes with wet hair. What a horror that was. Back then any girl wouldn't be caught dead with her wet and straggely. Just goes to show how times and style change. She wouldn't have been caught with her knees showing either. The style then was sweaters and skirts. Penny Loafers or Saddle Oxfords for shoes. Bobby Sox, no bear feet on the sidewalk, or in shoes.
The boys didn't mind their hair being wet, but it was always cut short, and combed neat. They wore Cordaroy pants or slacks. Dress shoes or Basketball shoes, which were leather. Styles for men were pretty classey back then.
I digress - sorry about that. Just got into the time slot, and got lost in thought. Some pretty good memories back then. Been fun looking back!
Written this 11th day of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Notes to myself!
As stated previously, I collect thoughts. It started when I was teaching Seminary and has continued to this day. In fact I keep a small notebook in my car and when I see or hear something note worthy, I jot it down. When possible, I try to give credit to the Author. This is not always possible however.
In my gathering I have been known to jot down a thought that passed through my mind. Meant about me. In my sorting the other day I ran across one that has made me stop and think when I was moved to jot it down. For the life of me I can't remember. I guess it isn't really important except to pinpoint it to other things that were happening to and around me at the time.
In life so much takes place that we seldom take time to jot down, or place when the action took place. I guess that is why we are encouraged to keep a journal. We would be amazed, I am sure, if we did take time everyday to keep track of even the simplist things that transpire in our daily life. Oh, I know much is just silly, or mundain, but who knows just who might be touched by setting quietly reading what was such a simple daily happening.
The pioneers were great at doing this. Their jotting has laid before us the trials and delights of enduring the things they went through. In fact it makes us realize just how lucky we are today to live as we do. Yet, how do we know if the things that happen to us today will not be eye openers to future generations? Or what influence our actions may have on those who read what we have so innocently jotted either in a journal, or even on just a piece of paper.
I guess that is what happened to me when I found this piece of paper with one of my "ramblings". I have no idea when it was written. I only know that I was either in a class of some sort, or hearing a talk somewhere, when I was moved to write the few lines on the reverse side of the notes I had been taking.
Do the notes help? At the top of the page is "CTR" written under it: Choose the Right; Continue to Repent and Cherish the Resurrection. After that I wrote Section 105:35, so I looked it up.
"There has been a day of calling, but the time has come for a day of choosing; and let those be chosen that are worthy." with another verse, 41: "Therefore, be faithful; and behold, and lo, I Am with you even unto the end. Even so, Amen."
The word Choices head the next note: "Christ tells Nephi Israel chosen but first HE refined them in the furnace of affliction." 1 Nephi 20:10. Followed by: "Men are free because of their flesh - All things given - which are expedient - they are free to choose." 2 Nephi 2:27 I was amused at the next note: "if you are miserable guess who is working on you?" Doesn't take a Rocket Scientist to answer that question! Then I asked the question: "why are we here?" 2 Nephi 2:25
"Adam fell that man might be; and men are, that they might have joy." I was struck by one word, "might". The way was opened, but the path MUST be chosen! Then Heleman 14:31 (one of my most favorite verses in the BoM: "He hath given unto you that ye might know good from evil, and he hath given unto you that ye might choose life or death; and ye can do good and be restored unto that which is good, or have that which is good restored unto you; or ye can do evil, and have that which is evil restored unto you." with the after thought written down, "Behold Ye Are Free!" Next the last verse in Sec. 37:4 "Behold, here is wisdom, and let every man chosse for himself until I come. Even so. Amen" Final notation: "God never intended to do if for us. God helps those who help themselves." A saying that my Mother told me many times.
On the side margin is penned these words: "God loved us first. He will love us last. We are His hands here. What gets done, we must do!"
Turning the page over written diagonally across the page is this: "I am only one, but if I am unwilling to do my part there is not another who can do what I will not do. Only I can do my job (or calling). I am working out my own salvation. All others are working on their own."
I asked the question: "Who was I until Lowell (Elder Taylor) and Keith (Elder Labrum) knocked on my door in 1952 ?" Then I gave this answer: "One of God's children awaiting the opportunity to grow. Without the choices I have made that have led me here today (?) I could as well have been any lost soul floundering in lifes ways. It is not alone hearing the Gospel, nor even knowing it is true. It is the motivation the Gospel gives that leads the faithful into paths of righteousness and action." Then I wrote: "Faith without works is dead" Followed by: "The invitation is to live!"
If I follow through with CTR I need to: Continue to Research, Continue to Read (the scriptures);
Continue to Remember (my Savior and his Atonement); Continue to Rededicate (my time and talents); Remember to Radiate (the love from the Savior); Contintue to Realize (I Am A Child of God); Remember to Receive (my blessings with a greatful heart); Remember to Redouble (my commitment to my covenants); Remember to Renew (myself with the taking of the Sacrament each week); Remember to Respond (to the Masters call - 'Come Follow Me').
I am greatful for finding this piece of paper with the writtings I cannot recall making, or the place and time when and where they were made. Another opportunity to bring myself into square with the things I both felt and learned at this time. We pass this way but once, it is good to take stock of where we have been, and how we are doing. Enduring to the end is an ongoing process. How well we do will not be measured by any one insident. I am continually inspired by just how wonderful the Plan of Salvation is. What I am to be is truly up to me. I am not sure just how I am doing, but I am ever greatful for the opportunities that come my way. Age does not limit our possiblities, it alters them a bit, but they continue to present themselves. I pray I will always be up to the benefits that they may present.
Written this 9th day of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
In my gathering I have been known to jot down a thought that passed through my mind. Meant about me. In my sorting the other day I ran across one that has made me stop and think when I was moved to jot it down. For the life of me I can't remember. I guess it isn't really important except to pinpoint it to other things that were happening to and around me at the time.
In life so much takes place that we seldom take time to jot down, or place when the action took place. I guess that is why we are encouraged to keep a journal. We would be amazed, I am sure, if we did take time everyday to keep track of even the simplist things that transpire in our daily life. Oh, I know much is just silly, or mundain, but who knows just who might be touched by setting quietly reading what was such a simple daily happening.
The pioneers were great at doing this. Their jotting has laid before us the trials and delights of enduring the things they went through. In fact it makes us realize just how lucky we are today to live as we do. Yet, how do we know if the things that happen to us today will not be eye openers to future generations? Or what influence our actions may have on those who read what we have so innocently jotted either in a journal, or even on just a piece of paper.
I guess that is what happened to me when I found this piece of paper with one of my "ramblings". I have no idea when it was written. I only know that I was either in a class of some sort, or hearing a talk somewhere, when I was moved to write the few lines on the reverse side of the notes I had been taking.
Do the notes help? At the top of the page is "CTR" written under it: Choose the Right; Continue to Repent and Cherish the Resurrection. After that I wrote Section 105:35, so I looked it up.
"There has been a day of calling, but the time has come for a day of choosing; and let those be chosen that are worthy." with another verse, 41: "Therefore, be faithful; and behold, and lo, I Am with you even unto the end. Even so, Amen."
The word Choices head the next note: "Christ tells Nephi Israel chosen but first HE refined them in the furnace of affliction." 1 Nephi 20:10. Followed by: "Men are free because of their flesh - All things given - which are expedient - they are free to choose." 2 Nephi 2:27 I was amused at the next note: "if you are miserable guess who is working on you?" Doesn't take a Rocket Scientist to answer that question! Then I asked the question: "why are we here?" 2 Nephi 2:25
"Adam fell that man might be; and men are, that they might have joy." I was struck by one word, "might". The way was opened, but the path MUST be chosen! Then Heleman 14:31 (one of my most favorite verses in the BoM: "He hath given unto you that ye might know good from evil, and he hath given unto you that ye might choose life or death; and ye can do good and be restored unto that which is good, or have that which is good restored unto you; or ye can do evil, and have that which is evil restored unto you." with the after thought written down, "Behold Ye Are Free!" Next the last verse in Sec. 37:4 "Behold, here is wisdom, and let every man chosse for himself until I come. Even so. Amen" Final notation: "God never intended to do if for us. God helps those who help themselves." A saying that my Mother told me many times.
On the side margin is penned these words: "God loved us first. He will love us last. We are His hands here. What gets done, we must do!"
Turning the page over written diagonally across the page is this: "I am only one, but if I am unwilling to do my part there is not another who can do what I will not do. Only I can do my job (or calling). I am working out my own salvation. All others are working on their own."
I asked the question: "Who was I until Lowell (Elder Taylor) and Keith (Elder Labrum) knocked on my door in 1952 ?" Then I gave this answer: "One of God's children awaiting the opportunity to grow. Without the choices I have made that have led me here today (?) I could as well have been any lost soul floundering in lifes ways. It is not alone hearing the Gospel, nor even knowing it is true. It is the motivation the Gospel gives that leads the faithful into paths of righteousness and action." Then I wrote: "Faith without works is dead" Followed by: "The invitation is to live!"
If I follow through with CTR I need to: Continue to Research, Continue to Read (the scriptures);
Continue to Remember (my Savior and his Atonement); Continue to Rededicate (my time and talents); Remember to Radiate (the love from the Savior); Contintue to Realize (I Am A Child of God); Remember to Receive (my blessings with a greatful heart); Remember to Redouble (my commitment to my covenants); Remember to Renew (myself with the taking of the Sacrament each week); Remember to Respond (to the Masters call - 'Come Follow Me').
I am greatful for finding this piece of paper with the writtings I cannot recall making, or the place and time when and where they were made. Another opportunity to bring myself into square with the things I both felt and learned at this time. We pass this way but once, it is good to take stock of where we have been, and how we are doing. Enduring to the end is an ongoing process. How well we do will not be measured by any one insident. I am continually inspired by just how wonderful the Plan of Salvation is. What I am to be is truly up to me. I am not sure just how I am doing, but I am ever greatful for the opportunities that come my way. Age does not limit our possiblities, it alters them a bit, but they continue to present themselves. I pray I will always be up to the benefits that they may present.
Written this 9th day of January 2010
by: Eileen Rosenberg
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