Today I am thinking of Father's Day and of course, how much my Dad meant to me. 

I think we may not realize until our father is gone, just how much he meant to us. As as adult, you separate from your parents and feel you can take care of yourself, but honestly, Dad was always my safety net. No matter how old I was, I still had questions, needed advice, and appreciated the fact he was always there.  

When he died, I missed him and the sorrow was great, but even then I did not realize the extent of the emptiness that comes with the death of a parent. The following is something I wrote for Dad for Father's Day 1992, and read at his funeral in 1998. Rereading it now, it brings back the deep feelings I had for my dad. I wish just once more I could hear him call me "Honey Girl" and sit by his hickory rocker in the shop and know that all would be okay in my world because Daddy was still there. 

When I was very small, you were in awe of me. I seemed to be one of the best things that ever happened to you.

As I grew, I remember the long nights you stayed up and rocked me because I had an earache.  

You showed me how to shoot marbles on the soft spring grass. You took me fishing. You taught me how to whistle.  

On warm summer days, you would swing with me in our large, old wooden swing—higher, higher, ever higher. I thought we could touch the sky, you and I, in that swing. And as we would swing, you would softly sing one of your childhood songs. I learned all those songs from you in that big old swing—those songs and a whole lot more. 

I learned what unconditional love was. 

Through the years, we would no longer swing and talk, but you still talked, and I still listened, even though I am sure you didn’t always think I was listening. And while I was listening, I learned so much about you . . . but even more about myself. 

You were always there for me Dad. You guided me gently in my decisions, and when the choice was wrong, you stood by me anyway. You helped make me the strong person I am today. 

You never judged. You only loved. 

I did not know when I was that child, that you were giving me the most important things in life, but I know that now, and I am forever grateful to you. 

Thank you for the songs, for the guidance, for the love.  

Now that I am no longer a child, I am in awe of you. You seem to be one of the best things that ever happened to me. 

I love you Dad.

★•.¸¸.❉☆ ˚ ˛★* ღ˛° *˚•.¸¸★

Oh how I wish I could let everyone know how hard it is to lose a parent, to know that the bond you had for a lifetime, from your earliest days on, is never going to be there again. For all of you who still have your parents, take these words to heart because one day, life as you now know it will change forever, and it could be tomorrow. Hug your dad today.  

 Dancing on Balsam Circle

It has been a wonderful birthday thus far!

The day started off with a text from my eldest daughter, telling me that I had my birthday wish. All I asked for was the first snowfall of the season on my special day and God provided.

Reminiscent of Christmas day, I toddled out to the living room in my jammies to find the tree lit and my hubby waiting there for me. As we sat and visited, I remembered the gift from my youngest, Chrystique, was still waiting for me in my office, so I excitedly brought it to the living and was thrilled to find just what I had asked for . . . a sign for the mouse she made me that lives in my entry way! That, along with a hymnal I had coveted, were the perfect gifts. Mystique told me last night in a long phone visit, that she is coming by one of these days soon with a surprise for me too. I love extending my birthday!

After that, Joey surprised me with a special birthday card "letter" from him, reminding me of some times past and pointing out what a strong person I am to get through all I do.

Next up was a call from my doctor, who sang the full happy birthday song to me! Wonder if I will get charged for that. Thanks Amanda, you are the BEST ever!

Once the snow stopped, lunch at a Chinese restaurant was the perfect interlude. But the best was yet to come! My darling husband who always says he will do anything I wish, proved it to me today. When we came home I thought to myself, "If this was a Hallmark movie, what would this adoring couple do next?" and I decided they would put the car in the garage, then walk hand and hand to the center of the large circle we live on, and dance together.

I said to Joey, "Let's do it" and he said sure! We clasped hands and walked out to the middle and danced while he sang, "Fly me to the moon" in his beautiful deep voice. It was perfect! If only we had video of it! It is things like this—along with so many other special things he does—that make me love this man so much!

As I said, it has been the perfect birthday so far. I feel very blessed. 74 is not so bad after all.

~Rhonda Whetstone

April 1
Wednesday
Day #17
Is this all an April Fool's joke? 

I have been keeping a Covid journal since March 15th, 2020, the first day Joey and I started remaining at home alone. Today I decided to share a day with you. 

It hits me each morning all over again, my first waking thought.  I feel like I must be stuck in some "Groundhog Day" movie and until I figure things out, I have to repeat it this day over and over. 

If I am honest, what I said above is not quite true. My first conscious thought is always, "Thank you God for another day of life."  The virus is my second waking thought. 

When COVID-19 first comes to mind each morning, I can hardly believe it is actually true. Perhaps it is all some strange Facebook or media prank. This is the United States of America—you know, that country that God blessed! There should be no stores closed, no people off work, no shortage of masks, gloves and respirators, and certainly no hoarding! 

Although I understand where the virus began and how it got to our country, it still does not seem quite real.  I think the fact that I am on day #17 of self-isolation, just enhances the strangeness of it all, even though Joey and I have been pretty much sheltered from people for the past year we have lived here. In fact, it was just a week before this started that we had five people from church over to our house. We were finally finding "friends."  

Because we have been sort of alone for a year now down here, it does not feel isolating, but I know if I were to drive past all the stores and businesses that are closed, it would feel much more lonely and scary. 

I am just so thankful I am not alone. I have Joey. 

We get up, talk while having tea, eat, walk, do laundry and household chores, compute, have devotions, entertain ourselves, and go to bed again. 

He mows. I do chores. He watches youtube videos on building, gardening, wise energy, etc..  I am on my computer. And so it goes.

What a blessing I can stay home.  What a blessing that Joey and I were already having church at home.  What a blessing that I have this man in my life.

The neighbors have been nice enough to offer to pick up groceries for us when they order theirs. The first time I declined. We had fresh food here for more than two weeks. Yesterday I had them order and deliver some apples and bananas. Today I sent the money in a card to them.  This is the "new" way to be neighborly.  No hugs, no handshakes.  You wave from the road, speak through a closed door, bring things in and disinfect them and go on with life.

The little things bring joy.  I just watched a man walk past on our road, with three little children walking with him. It was like something out of 1950's life, a Mayberry moment if you will.  We need more of that.  We need more of parents interacting with children and children finding joy in the outdoors with mom or dad. 

We need more Mayberry and less mayhem.

Let us stay home, stay content, and stay healthy.

Let's hold each other in our hearts until we can see each other again.

Mindset

I have decided that all of life is a mindset.  Good, bad, or indifferent—it is all your mindset.

The dictionary defines mindset as "the established set of attitudes held by someone."  Notice that it does not say, "beliefs" or "truths" or "realities."  It says attitudes.  Therefore, it is your attitude toward any one thing that determines how you will view a lot of other things.

For instance, if you happen to hate snow and you are living in the north, then your mindset, your attitude, will color everything about life there.  You hate the snow, the cold, feeling trapped inside due to the weather, having to warm up cars, scrape snow, shovel snow, deal with icy roads, put on all sorts of extra gear, miserable because you have months of the same thing and cannot do anything about it, etc., ad infinitum.  Before you know it, you are grumbling about a lot of other things, and the "snow" mindset has you in a total funk at least four months out of the year! 

Until moving to TN last year, I spent my entire life in WI, but I learned as a child to embrace the snow and cold. It meant a break from the outside garden work which seemed never-ending, and even from all the child care of siblings, because Mom was in the house, not the garden, and could do that herself.  Oh yes, there were still all those dishes for a family of seven, and I still had to help with other housework, but compared to spring, summer and fall, winter was a piece of cake!

Of course, as an adult, I could pick and choose what to do, but by then I had an ingrained love of snow and winter.  Interestingly, I never got into winter sports.  I simply wanted to tuck into a big chair with a blanket and a cup of tea and read while the snow fell all around outside. 

Once I took up writing in a serious vein, I then looked forward to January through March, when I could spend all my time working on the next book and getting ahead on columns.  I did not have green grass and lovely days calling to me.  I was content at my desk, just watching the flakes fall.  I was working from home by then, so did not even have the need to venture out at all unless roads were good and the day was sunny.

Yes, my mindset allowed me to embrace the winter! 

I did not want to move south.  I was content in Wisconsin. I had spent my whole life on the same acreage.  I designed my house.  I helped build it.  It was on family land that Dad gave to me. I loved being close to family and friends.  I loved the familiar.  I had great doctors and dentist and was very content.  But, when I divorced, things changed.  Then when I met my new husband, things changed again. And the new husband wanted to live in the south in the mountains. 

Wow!  In order to do that, I knew I had to change my mindset.  Not just about snow, either.  I had to change it about so many things in my life, in fact, about almost everything I knew! I felt like a pioneer in a wagon heading west—I had no idea what my life would be like in this new land. 

Arriving just one year ago in North Carolina, or North Cackalackly, as the residents like to call it, I could have cried.  Where was the snow?  Where was the crisp chilly air?  Everything was a soggy, foggy, green.  Bare tree branches everywhere, and seldom a pine.  No real lakes like Wisconsin had, and rivers were a joke too.  I cannot tell you the number around me that I can almost jump across.  I was raised with the Wisconsin River, and around the Fox and Mississippi. Some of these here are literally thick sludge and nearly dried up.  Joey had warned me that rivers down here were mostly green or brown, and he was right. 

I dislike the laid-back slow attitude of most of the people you have to deal with.  Checking out of a store takes twice as long, and not because of not enough checkouts.  It is because the staff wants to chat, and they move slowly anyway.  No one is in a hurry down here, unless you go to Aldi's!  I was raised to walk fast, talk fast, get to the point, do your job quickly and move on.  Good luck making any of that happen down here.  For a year I have gritted my teeth and lived with it, but I have recently decided to change my mindset to one of "I shall endure what you do. I will not ever like it, but I will put up with it." Sort of "grin and bear it." 

That is how I get through most all of the differences down here.  I just grin and bear it.  Just try to not let it upset me, since I cannot change it.  They will call me honey, sugar, sweetheart, and even doll! They will do everything as if moving through molasses. They will never understand when I try to explain great healthcare, or why I roll my eyes when they say, "Have a 'coke' honey," while handing me a Sprite. 

But the one thing I have actually changed my mindset on completely, is snow and cold.  We just dropped into the 30s for a couple days and I did not like it.  I had to be out in it and it was not the temperature that bothered me as much as having to put on a jacket!  I had to turn on the seat warmers and the heated steering wheel in the car!  (First World problems, I know.) But, what I did not have to do was warm the car, defrost anything, scrape anything, or worry about what shoes I wore because of snow or ice.  There is no snow or ice. I wake up in the morning and actually like the fact that the sun is shining and the grass is green! 

The other day we had dandelions in the yard. My bushes are all green.  The ornamental pear trees in front have tiny buds. It is currently 46 and tomorrow will be 53. 

I have a hard time realizing it is January after 71 Januarys that were snowy and cold. Going outside here, it feels like it is at least April, if not May.  I recall last year thinking, "It has felt like summer for months.  When does real summer come?"

And then summer came, along about June, and it was like it never ended. So, it was like we had summer for nine months of the year, because you do down here.  

Anyway, my mindset about snow has changed.  I realize now that I never cared that much for snow.  I just wanted to watch it fall and see that blanket of white. I have that down here, but only about once a month from November to March, and then although gorgeous, it melts in 24-48 hours, and you know what?  That is more than fine with me! 

Now I just have to change my mindset so I can embrace summer, even if that means I am trapped inside during the worst of it, just like being trapped inside during the worst of winter. 

What mindset do you need to change?

  

Seven Things

Familiar Things

Getting used to a new home takes some time.

When you move without any planning, and then choose a house without much reason, you probably will find that things are not quite a perfect fit for you.

Joey and I lucked out with nearly matching furniture.  We only had to buy two new things when we got down here—a credenza for the living room for the large TV to set on, and a new dining room table.  Luckily, all his bookcases were black, so a great match for my tables, desk and other items in the living room, including my glacier grey leather sofa and charcoal grey recliner.  

The kitchen is a whole other matter though.  First, while spacious in the center area, there are not enough cabinets, the top ones are far too high, even for 6'5" Joey to reach, and half of the lower ones have no depth to them.  The amount of counter space, especially to work on, is sadly inadequate. And don't even get me started on not having enough outlets. 

Even with us buying a huge pantry for the area just off the kitchen, we still do not have half the space I had in Rapids for my kitchen wares, so much stays stored around the corner in the garage on shelves. You have heard of an "appliance garage?"  Um, yeah, I have that!  My Cuisinart Panini maker shares space with my Salad Shooter, blender, the juicers, the car and the washer/dryer.  Just one of the many reasons I look forward to our own house next year when this lease is up!

Tomorrow I take down my autumn decos and after a good house cleaning, I start putting out my Christmas things.  I will probably not change out my autumn leaf dishes for the "Cabin in the Snow" dishes yet, but it will not be long.

Anyway, we all know that when you move, especially this far from what had been home, nothing is familiar.  Not the house, not the streets, certainly not the towns, cities and stores.  I remember going into Walmart when we first arrived and loving that it felt like the one back "home." Finally something felt right, something felt familiar.

Have you ever noticed how homes have their own sounds?  We get used the the familiar sounds of the ice maker, the pump cutting in, the furnace or a/c running.  When it is nighttime and the house moves and creaks, you know there is a raging snowstorm or rainstorm, given the season, taking place outside. Familiarity. Everything sounds different in this new house. We have the "ice maker from hell" when it comes to noises. The dishwasher is very old and noisy. Even the furnace makes louder sounds than either of us were used to. 

I love the view out my office windows.  Being here since March, it now seems familiar to me.  I sit here most of the day, unless we leave the house. But, although this is home now, when I look out the other windows of the house, the views still seem strange to me, as I seldom see out those windows. No familiarity except for my office view.

Sadly, the view out my office windows has barely changed.  My two huge Bradford Pear trees are still green, as is the grass, and as are half the trees across the road.  There are finally a couple orange and yellow ones, and one red one, but the most are still as green as summer! Hard to think that tomorrow is November 1st.

I have come to realize that while change is good and we eventually adapt, there are some things that are comforting, such as eating off dishes I have had for decades.  If I just focus on the food on my plate and my desk with its familiar items on it, and do not glance up and look out the window, it is almost as if I am back in Wisconsin and when I do look up, I will see the view across Oak Ridge Road, not Spider Barnes Road. I know I won't though, so I keep my eyes down, on the familiar, and try not to think of "What is not right with this picture?"

And so today, with the heavy, driving rains in the 30+ mph winds, if I just quickly glance up, I cannot see clearly and it is almost like it is Oak Ridge Road.  Suddenly I realize that part of the feeling of hiraeth I feel, are the sounds.  In this raging wind and rainstorm we are having, the rain slashing at the windows, the wind torquing the house—the sound and fury of the elements make this house sound just like my house in Rapids—just like home.  

And after all, it is home, is it not?

© Rhonda Whetstone/October 31, 2019
    Jonesborough, TN

Hiraeth: a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

The Lesson

Seventeen years ago, I said my prayers and went to bed. When I got up in the morning, like everyone else, I brewed my coffee then went to make the bed.

My phone rang.  It was my brother.  "Are you watching TV?"

From that moment on, I was glued to the television,  as was most of the world. 

I saw the second plane hit, I watched the pentagon aftermath, I listened with much concern about Flight 93, the plane that would eventually be taken down in Somerset PA by brave passengers, because that is where my family lives.  I saw people jump from buildings to their death because they could not stand the fire.  I watched it all in disbelief, as did most of you  and I wondered what was still to come. 

And like you, my life was changed that day.

I realized that the world I thought was safe and secure, was not, and that anything could happen to anyone at any time.

I also discovered that the most important things in life were the people, not things.  If everything disappears, what do you really miss?  Your money?  Your jewelry? Your car? Your house?  No, you miss the people.

I spent a lot of time on the phone that day, checking in with Pennsylvania kinfolk, talking to friends and family near and far, telling them I loved them.

Then the years pass and we forget.  We forget how we felt that day and in the days right after.  Once the shock wore off, we forgot until 9-11 again rolled around.

I do not know if there is still any lesson to learn from that horrific day, but I think the most profound one we learned right then.  Live each day like it is your last and tell everyone you love them whenever you have the chance.

~Rhonda