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

Red Wing

My love and I just returned from a two-night trip to Red Wing MN.  It was so wonderful that I wish we could have stayed a week.  Trouble is, we may have ran out of exciting things to see around the next corner.  The little hidden gems that most people never hear about. The things that make this city so special.  If we had "done it all" and "seen it all," we may not have left feeling the deep need to return.

And I do want to return.  

Although I have been to Red Wing before, twice, I never spent the night and certainly never appreciated all the town has to offer. 

Despite the Mississippi River running right through town, perhaps the thing that set Red Wing apart from other small towns/cities, is that they have worked hard to make their city special.  From the restored buildings, to the beautification of the city, they have succeeded.  





Just passing through, it is unlikely you would notice the small things, but if you sit at the fountain downtown, you start to note special things, from the fact that the street lights and traffic lights are all black metal, adding to the yesteryear feel of the city, to the fact that even the plants have hoses discretely attached to them for watering. Businesses have been beautifully restored, pride in the city is shown everywhere.




And the St. James Hotel?  Well, it is the biggest jewel in a city of bright gems.  Built in 1875, it has a long, interesting history.  It was an honor to be a guest there. 

Our room looked out over the River and the train depot.

We will be back Red Wing. Next time we are taking the train over.  But first . . . a trip to Galena, IL and then Pennsylvania.  I guess we will have to do Red Wing for my birthday in November, then back to Cedarburg in December.

Life is good. Thank you God. 

~Rhonda

Time Passes—Things Change

Many years ago I used this same title in a chapter of the first book I wrote. It was fitting back then.  It still is.

While those four words could be used to explain anything and everything, especially in today's world where everything changes far too fast, today I am thinking of something very simple and very personal.

My eldest brother, Ed, is dying.  

Ed was five years older than me. While I sit and look at the multitude of photos my mother took of us two during my first five years of life, so when he was ages five to ten, I cannot really recall much about those photos.  What I do recall was that he picked on me my whole life, sometimes cruelly. 

Ed was never the "older brother" that most people think of having.  He was never my protector, my best friend, my confidant. But he was my brother, for better or worse.  You know what they say, you can pick your friends but not your family.

However, I do not write this to malign my brother, but rather to point out that even while never close, he was still my brother and as such, I love him.

Three years ago when I nearly died and was cognizant of that fact, I found such peace in knowing I could stop fighting.  My girls and grandkids were in God's hands anyway, right where they had always been. There was nothing I still "had" to do. My salvation was secure, my life was in order. I could just let go.  I never fought against it, it was okay.  I actually embraced and welcomed death.  Sometimes it is harder to fight the battles of life.  Ask me.

Ed is not there though.  He knows he is dying, knows he is down to a few days, accepts that it is coming, and yet he is afraid.  I wish I could give him the peace he needs.  I tried yesterday, but did not succeed.

When I go up to the hospital again tomorrow, I am going to pray with him and try to assure him that it is fine—God has this!  I will try to impart to him the peace he needs to just let go.

So yes, things change.  I will soon be the eldest sibling.  The little Wisconsin family will be down to four.   And we will probably go pretty much in the order of our births, barring something catastrophic. It will be my turn next.  Like dominoes in a row, we will all eventually topple.  That is how it is with the passage of time.

Yes, time passes—things change.  

That is how it is in life . . . and with death. 

~Rhonda

Honeymooning

We are home again.  Everything is unpacked and Joey has the car clean for Honeymoon #5 next week!  Good thing I am logging info on each one or I would forget what number we are on.

When you get married at my age, you do not have enough years left to celebrate anniversaries or take trips for them, so we decided that we would celebrate Honeymoons, that way we can have as many as we wish!  

So far we have done Door County, the U.P. and Mackinac Island, Cedarburg, and now Manitowoc.  Next week is Red Wing and Winona MN.  We got married in Winona so that will always be special to us.

Joey wants to return to all of those places, and visit more, but for certain we are heading back to Cedarburg in December to enjoy the Christmas ambience.  

Until then, we have many other trips planned, including a lengthy one to PA, WV, NC, TN and KY.  That will be October, right after three days in Galena, IL.  

Life is good. God is good. And Joey is a true gift from God.  Those of you who found the perfect mate early on in life, you are truly blessed to have a full lifetime with them.  I will have to settle for whatever time I have left . . . and eternity.  I plan on spending eternity with Joey too.  

But for now, I just want rest.

~Rhonda

Cleaning House

It may be the way the sun's rays slant in this time of year, portending the Autumn Season and the dreaded fall cleaning, or it may be the thought that as I age, it is simpler to keep the house clean with less clutter, or it may even be the thought of a potential move to the east coast next year, but whatever it is prompting me, I feel the need for house cleaning.

No, not in the conventional manner.  No dust mops and brooms.  No rags and vacuums.

No, I am thinking of streamlining other things in my life—things like email, blogs, websites, even the numerous Facebook pages and groups I have started up through the years.  You see, I realize now that while at the time they seemed to make sense, I truly cannot do them justice anymore.

I can barely keep my website, which I pay for, updated in a timely manner, so how can I possibly find the time for all the other pages/sites/journals that I have going. It is not so much that Facebook is a timesucker, which it is but I spend less and less time there now. No, it is more that the cumulative effect of so many pages/sites/journals is not only a timesucker, but an anchor tied around my neck. I am forever feeling guilt that I do not do justice to any one thing, let alone all of them.

And then there are the trips. Ah yes . . . the trips.

You see, I got married again earlier this year and along with that marriage came the freedom of travel! No longer do I have to look for a friend who might be free to tag along on a day trip, an overnight stay, or an even longer trek.  I have a built-in travel companion!  And he is better than all of them because he actually loves to schlep all my bags around for me! What this means is that we can travel nearly every week!  But, the more we travel, the less time I have for anything at home, so either something has to go or I have to condense down and make my time count!

To that end, I have decided that it is easier for me to just put all my thoughts in one place.  No more journaling, no more random writings on this page and that.  Just write it all in one place and whoever wishes to read, may.  And if no one wants to bother, that's fine too.  It is then just for me.  

So, with that said, welcome to the "new" blog.  "Somewhere in Time" will be just that.  My travels, my thoughts, my silliness.  Some old, some new.  Follow if you wish.  I cannot promise that it will be exciting, but it will be random and it should be enlightening from time to time.  

One last thing, please do not share without asking.  If you do, dire things will transpire, up to and including a visit from Vinnie No Neck and/or Bubba.  Be afraid, be very afraid. 

~Rhonda

Fool's gold in the rain

When I was a child, my dad had a small nugget of gold.  Fool's gold, he called it.  Although I understood it was not the real thing, I still thought it strikingly beautiful, maybe even prettier than the real thing.  I always wondered what made one of value and the other not worth anything.  I understand as an adult it is the properties, but I still say, just to gaze on it, one is as lovely as the other.

The past week or so has given me "fool's gold" on my deck.  It is strewn with leaves on the decking, on the table and even covering the chair seats which need to be brushed off each time before we sit.  Elm leaves, maple leaves, as well as the poplar leaves, always the last to fall, are scattered about in bright profusion.  Even without knowing the date however, the giveaway that they are not truly autumn's glory cascading down, is the fact they are all yellow.  Not an orange or red among them.  The truth is, the trees were stressed.  They had been too long without rain.

I still gazed out my patio doors from my 68 degree house at the 90 degree deck with a thrill in my soul, knowing that real autumn was not far off.  Soon the gold would be real.

Then today it rained.  It rained an autumn rain, cold and windy. The temperature remained in the 60s, nearly unheard of for August in Wisconsin. It felt like October, and the leaves on the deck looked like October, except . . . still no orange, still no burgundy or rust.  Just gold. Fool's gold.

Autumn is just around the corner though. I saw a leaf scuttle just out of sight around that corner.  Soon I will not even have to look for fall, it will be here in all its glory. 

Until the real gold of autumn comes though, I will relish the fool's gold, content with whatever colors God paints all of my world, and with the watercolor strokes of the dripping brush he painted my world today.

Blessings friends and readers.

Inspired

Recently, my eldest daughter Mystique began blogging, and after reading some of what she wrote, I am feeling inspired to write something of my own.  You see, I am not writing anymore.

Well, I am not writing for pay.

For some reason, my editor stopped putting my columns in the newspapers.  Too bad. Their loss.  I am always running into people who say I am the only reason they still subscribe to the newspaper.  That is the way in all of the areas--Point, Rapids and Marshfield.  Sad.

I know it is all financial.  For the past few years I have been the only local paid freelancer for Gannett News.  I guess they cannot afford even me anymore.  It is not the lack of being published which bothers me, but you would think after 10+ years, they would have at least said, "It is over."  I have heard nothing.  I was just phased out without a word.

And that is how it will be for the newspapers themselves one day soon . . . just disappear without a word. Another piece of America gone.

I miss the research, the odd stories, writing about someone or something that had been lost to history until I came along.  So instead, I will just journal my random thoughts, I guess.  Not sure anyone will read them but me, but that is fine too.  Those of us who write, write mostly for ourselves anyway.  We have to, when we are inspired.

Thanks for the inspiration Mystique.