Grieving Gardener

In the last week, two close friends have experienced the unexpected and tragic loss of a close family member. This is a tale of two families that chose differently. One family prepared a trust while the other meant to, but never got around to it. Both losses were immediate and final.

Planning for the future can involve things like engagements, rings, and honeymoons. It should also involve a trip to the attorney to make sure all legal aspects of one’s life are in order. I’m taking my turn at adulting today to visit my new best friend, Mr. Lawyer Man. I’d scheduled this appointment two weeks ago, before I received the tear-filled phone calls from my friends. Not totally unprotected, my own family trust was created on January 7, 2008 and revised in Nevada shortly before VST died in 2020. Thankfully, we both agreed it was important.

As for my friends……

A California farmer was the soul caregiver for his medically fragile wife and son until he died last week without a will or trust. The estate is now locked, from the credit cards to the safe. Without a trust, the state will take over and plan for the family, while their current needs continue. Funds to help care for the son and wife are available, however, they aren’t accessible right now. This process is quite lengthy, leaving a burden for the extended family.

There could be answers in the locked safe, however, no one can remember the combination. Even that small bit of information could be vital. While adulting, tell someone, somewhere, the location of your important documents and how to retrieve them.

The second family lost their beloved husband, father, and grandfather after he kissed his wife goodbye and left on his drive to work on Tuesday. Rear-ended in a horrific accident that made the news, he died at the scene. At an age most men retire and golf, he preferred to continue with his career. He was one of the finest men I’ve ever met, adored by all that knew him. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

A professional man, he prepared for those he loved. His family now grieves their loss without locked bank accounts.

My understanding is this. A trust is like a virtual box in which you place your valuables, holding instructions that will be followed when you die. It protects your assets for distribution to those you chose to include. I am not an attorney, just a very protected widow who planned while I was still the very loved wife of VST.

Decision making regarding ones own death is never comfortable or fun. Just remember, it’s the adult thing to do and this is one of those times adulting isn’t fun.

While planning your trust, there are other legal issues to consider. Create a medical directive, Power of Attorney, and other essential documents. A lawyer will give you advice on the documents you need.

There are online sites that generate these documents for free. If you choose to use them be sure to complete the final step and have them notarized. Without that step, the documents aren’t valid and you return to the group in probate. A terrible thing for any family to experience at a time of grief.

As for my two dear friends, I hope their heavenward journeys were on the wings of angels. For them, the suffering and earthly work is over. For the surviving family members, I send prayers and love.

For those of us here on earth, it’s time to get prepared for life’s one certainty. We’re all headed down the same road, not knowing the time or day. Leave a paper trail of legal wishes for the family you love so much because it will make all the difference in the world when the time comes.

Whatever you do this weekend, have some fun! Tomorrow is the first day of fall. Get out and kick up some leaves. Enjoy some hot apple cider on a crisp morning. Just be grateful to be alive. Summer 2023 is behind us!!! We made it!!!!

I’ll be back on Monday.

Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.  Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony. _{Colossians 3: 12-14}

In these crazy days, that’s a tall order. With scammers, hackers, and cheats around us, those souls trying to do the right thing are often victims. But, not always.

Last Saturday, a UPS delivery woman rang my doorbell. She wore her scowl like armor as she shoved a package towards me. Who knows the reason she was upset. She WAS a UPS driver. I can’t imagine her days jumping in and out of a hot truck to deliver heavy packages while avoiding the hazards of the job. In the case of one poor soul Monday, a rattlesnake that put her in the ICU. Dogs are not always friendly, either.

This woman didn’t have time for a smile. No chit chat. No wave goodbye. Just the delivery, Ma’am. Nothing but the delivery. And a package for an entitled “Karen” at that. UGHHHH.

Until…..

She looked at me.

All of a sudden she broke into a brilliant smile. This actually transformed her into the beautiful young woman she was! Her eyes sparkled. She was actually grinning. For goodness sakes, there seemed to be an immediate glow!

The morning had already been filled with dead cell phone battery craziness and an unplanned trip to Walmart. I’d answered the door in haste and forgotten something silly. I was wearing my golden “BRIDE” tiara while making apple pies for the party that night. Alexa was playing our wedding play. I think “Happy” by Pharrell was on. She probably heard me singing off key when she rang the bell.

“Are YOU getting MARRIED?????” she asked, as if we’d been besties forever.

Then it was my turn to put a smile on my flour-dusted face!

“Oh MY! I forgot the tiara. YES, I AM!!!” I replied, as my hand immediately went up to grab the tiara.

We were both giggling by this point.

“CONGRATUATIONS! This is the best news of my day!”

The young woman sprinted to her truck, turning to wave once more before she drove away. She was still smiling.

She changed my morning, too. It’s okay to be silly while baking apple pie. A woman shouldn’t be shy about wearing a “Bride” tiara when she is one! No matter the age, being the bride is an exciting time in life.

If I’d grabbed the package and slammed the door, she would have continued on her grumpy way. This tiny exchange was enough that it made its place in my wedding journal.

Our upcoming nuptials seem to have that affect on the people around us. It IS delightful that two sexagenarians (one six months from becoming a septuagenarian) have found something that people look for their entire life. LOVE. How wonderful that we are the ones that can spread some happy news. We both paid it forward in our separate journeys through the wilderness of widowhood. We’re drinking in every single smile from family and friends. It’s our turn to Be Happy.

Whatever you do today, reach out to a person that’s having a rotten day. All it takes is a smile. Think about someone gruff and offer them a little tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. You might be surprised how nice they look sporting a smile.

More tomorrow.

Well? Sometimes you need to come up with a creative fix. Hat’s off to the mom that figured out a round-about way to fix a problem with technology. Screenshotting still has me a bit baffled. I’ll remember this hack.

Last weekend, MM and I had another type of techno-failure. Much to our horror, MM’s very expensive iPhone was unable to charge from the cord. No small problem, as our phones have our lives on them. Along with communications with the outside world, most people have phone numbers, addresses, photos, calendars, and even banking. I wish my eyes were young enough to do banking on my phone. I’m lucky enough to still be able to text.

Well, this dying cell phone gave us both a fright. With a house full of guests arriving at 5 PM, we’d need to jump in the car and make a 40 minute trip to the biggest little city to the west. Then, we’d hope to get an appointment with a specialist to diagnose the problem. All the while the battery life was dwindling.

10%.

9%.

8% .

With every plug and brick we tried, there was no improvement.

7%.

Just when we though things couldn’t be more dire, MM had a marvelous thought. With the phone at 2% remaining battery life, he remembered that the new luxury car in the garage could charge the phone without a cord. This feature only works with iPhones, but that was exactly the phone needing charging.

Racing to the garage, we started the car and gently laid the phone on the charging station. With that, we both returned to the house to wait for a few minutes. Ten minutes later, the phone was charging. Disaster averted. Thank goodness. With the approaching nuptials and honeymoon at hand, a new cell phone isn’t exactly in October’s budget.

After diagnosing a fix for the phone, the next move was to purchase a pad charger. Of course, the obvious source for this device would be Walmart. For $40, the problem was solved. While we were paying for the device, the associate was kind to let us know this problem happens quite frequently.

Some days I long for the olden years when phones were wired into the wall. Not even with removable cords. Wired in. I remember sneaking late night calls with my boyfriend at my father’s desk. The phone cord was just long enough for me to lay on carpet and talk. Of course, all calls were monitored and timed unless they were made after the very tired farmer and his wife were asleep. Such sweet innocence.

As a young mom of the 90’s, I rocked a 50′ phone cord which allowed me to do housework while catching up on the latest with my bestie. CC and I accomplished many domestic tasks at the ends of those extension phone cords. Didn’t seem to slow us down one bit.

Who would have thought that battery life would become an issue? That photo albums and scrapbooking would become a thing of the past? That a phone would display the 10-day weather forecast or announce messages from people that really don’t like to talk anymore? I almost wish a cell phone wasn’t so necessary for daily life in 2023.

MM’s phone is fully charged since Saturday. It was a wake up call that a techno-fail could cause us to derail at any point. Just another thing that can happen here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

Whatever you do today, think about the age of your phone. If it’s been a few years, you might want to start saving for a new one. Some of them cost more than my first car. Remember to keep your phone clean, shiny, and on a charging schedule. Things just work better that way.

More tomorrow.

The very things we think will never happen to us sometimes do. The following situation has been affecting me for the last three days. I guess I’ve been lucky to enjoy shopping online for all these years without incident. After this experience, I’ll change my routine a bit.

Like everyone, Amazon has lulled me into becoming an internet shopper over the years. I first learned of Amazon back in 1996 when, as a teacher, it was the best place to find and buy books. In the beginning, they started selling books. As a newbie, I attended a librarian’s conference. It was there the word “Amazon” was the buzz among educators. No more trips to Barnes and Noble. Amazon would deliver books right to your door. Imagine that!

Through the years, I’ve often joked that you could probably get a live pony delivered by Amazon. I certainly have ordered weird things like a rototiller and snow blower. Slowly, Amazon has become my go to place for spa chemicals, garden tools, and party dresses. That was, until last week.

Seven days ago, I started receiving weird text notices on my phone. They were notices involving a two-step authentication in order to proceed with my purchase. The funny thing was, there were no purchases on the days I received these notices. I simply blocked the sender and didn’t give it another thought.

Now, every bride-to-be understands the necessity of Amazon Prime. At the moment, I’m receiving deliveries of cutlery, tablecloths, and clothing. Each day, I only need to think of something I need for the wedding and I’m off to place another order. Online shopping saves time and gas. It also helps to assure that the needed items will arrive. The mind of a bride is often a little foggy.

With the notices dismissed, I didn’t give it another thought until Sunday. Needing to order something, I attempted to sign into my account. Low and behold, my password had been changed. No problem. They would send a two-step verification notice to my e-mail. Except that, the emails never came. I was locked out of my own account. Frozen from my purchase history. Estranged from a return for which I hadn’t yet received a refund.

If anyone else lived here at Winterpast with me, they would’ve been suspect. Heck, Oliver might have been questioned, but he’s been at puppy camp for a little respite from the bride. Some devious soul had hacked my account and changed the password. I’m just fortunate it hadn’t happened since 1996.

And so began the phone calls with Amazon associates that live in far away countries while all named John, Mike, Dave, or Sue. Each one would assure me that they’d fix me right up as soon as they sent me an email. No emails ever arrived. Through four different people, each reading the same script, no emails ever came. Although I received other emails successfully, there are none from Amazon. Not in the inbox. Not in the Spam. Not in the Trash. And so, there was nothing that could be done, they told me. Sorry. No can do.

My association with Amazon is effectively over. The hackers won.

The dear associates trying to help me need a new script. Over and over they read the same instructions. The directives that didn’t work on Call #1, #2, #3, and #4. Doing the same thing over and over while getting the same results is a cesspool of frustration. I’m appalled that a company as large as Amazon doesn’t have a fix for the hacker that got me. Let me assure you. They do not.

Their advice to me? Contact my email provider. It must be THEIR problem.

OY.

VEY.

Maybe I should just chill and watch a movie on Amazon Prime?

One small problem with that idea.

“Please sign into your account. We will send you a verification code via email.”

Not happening any time soon.

The best advice I have to share is this. Do not leave your credit card on file anywhere online. Just do not. It takes very little time to type in a credit card number each time you order something. Although it’s very convenient, it’s not safe. For that matter, really consider whether or not you need an account. Shop as a guest. At my current level of frustration, I’ll be looking for other options. Perhaps Walmart and Costco Online.

In the mean time, I reported fraud on my credit card and requested a new number. It’ll be necessary to contact everyone that charges me on a monthly basis. Unnecessary work that shouldn’t happen, except that it does when one lives in the world in which we do.

Living in remote places is difficult at times. With only one Walmart within 30 miles, my shopping will now be severely limited. Great for the budget. Not so great when trying to plan last minute details for a wedding.

That’s the news for today. Stay aware. Vigilant. Alert. At the first sign of any strange messages or e-mails, investigate to make sure they aren’t from crafty hackers. Don’t open anything that looks suspicious.

Whatever you do today, make a plan to check on your financial accounts at least once a week. Most banks have user friendly services in which you can take a look and make sure all charges are yours. Alert the bank immediately if you have any fraudulent activities. Just use the number on the back of your credit card. Better safe than sorry.

More tomorrow.

What a beautiful Weekend! Although I need a few weekdays to rest and recover, I will say that it’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed such fun. Thinking back to the events of Saturday and Sunday fills me with amazement and wonder. For the blessing of friends and neighbors I am so grateful.

The weekend did start differently than MM and I had planned. The invitations arrived a day late, making Friday night crunch time to address them. My Mysterious Marine, and soon to be husband, arrived with his names and addresses at the ready. I was prepared with my trusty address book. Together, we addressed, stuffed, stamped, and licked each one. Someone asked if MM watched TV while I did the addressing. Nope. He was there every step of the way, even when ingesting the retched envelope glue. A Ride or Die friend. That’s my MM.

Saturday, we’d planned a little dinner party with neighbors to announce our engagement. Just a few guests. Seventeen to be exact. MM had been over most of the day beautifying the gardens here at Winterpast. We set up tables and chairs for 18 as the first leaves of the season were falling.

For our menu, we chose Rustic Country BBQ. We started with Chips and dips, crackers and cheese. For the main course, we served BBQ Chicken with Sweet Baby Ray’s sauce, baked beans, green salad, and homemade Mac N’ Cheese. There were two homemade apple pies for desert. The food must have been good, because most of it was gone by the end of the night.

Laughter floated on the evening air. Just a bunch of neighbors from houses on the block getting to know one another better. I learned the following.

1. We have a bowling champion and master quilter living just a few doors away.

2. My new neighbor across the street has the most precious smile.

3.Everyone loves a good glass of wine and conversation.

4.My margarita maker is still the hit of any party.

5. Ninja Neighbor and her tribe are a blessing to the entire street.

I learned about neighborhood parties from my Auntie TJ. She started this whole thing years ago with a Christmas party. Just an open house that started at 5, because 5 is the most elegant hour to start a party. The same magic occurred at her house, whether at Christmas or 4th of July. She knew how to draw the neighbors in and slowly, a family was formed. Even today, when I visit her small coastal town, I still need to visit the neighbors, because they’re my friends too. Heck, I even met a real, honest to goodness Goddess of the Central Coast along the way.

Saturday night, the Dolls of the Desert Plains and their men-folk were delightful. We’re already thinking about our next party, to be held in December. We’ll still be honeymooning. A perfect time to celebrate new beginnings.

Of course, we had wedding invitations for everyone with hugs all around as this was neighborhood NEWS. I couldn’t have been more proud of MM. While BBQ-ing, he visited with everyone, being the perfect host and fiancé.

Sunday was a day for worship at our little church. Twenty more invitations were delivered followed by more hugs and squeals of delight. In a few days time, a little desert church sitting on a wide spot along the interstate will be the place to be. SRO. Standing Room Only.

There, at the end of the aisle, my Mysterious Marine will be waiting just for me. As long as he’s there, everything will be alright. Somewhere along the way, I must’ve done something good.

More tomorrow.

As we plan to squeeze out the last bit of summer fun this weekend, I share a rare picture of the gardens of Winterpast and Wookie with you. If you look closely, you’ll see the greenhouse towards the top, just left of center. Blessed with this oasis, gardening is something that is a pleasure, without demanding too many days of back-breaking labor. At least for me. MM might tell you a different tale.

This year, MM has planted three hostas, seven roses, and two Japanese Maple trees. To accomplish this, he used his own trusty pick ax to make holes in the desert soil. Any Mysterious Marine that owns a pick ax is a good guy! Then, he went on to pour a concrete foundation and, with the help of his trusty “go-for” girl, build our 10′ x 14′ greenhouse.

This summer, the back yard has come to life. This is, in part, due to the wonderful plant supplement called “SuperThrive”. If you garden and haven’t found this product, do some research and buy some. It’s not cheap, it’s used sparingly. On an average yard, 4 oz. will last a season or more. It’s worth it’s weight in gold. Unlike “Miracle Grow”, which works on leaf production, “Super Thrive” works to stimulate root growth. The two together produce amazing results.

Earlier in the year, we went on a garden tour in the land of Top Gun, just to the east. A woman had the most beautiful hydrangea. Not the usual one found at Grandma’s house on the coast, but a very different plant thriving in the hot desert sun. I fell in love with it and purchased my own at the local nursery.

After bringing this delicate beauty home, I did a very stupid thing. Replanted, I set the new plant in full sun as the directions said to do. However, full sun in the desert isn’t the best idea when you have just repotted something. This gorgeous plant lost almost every leaf, even with lots of water and Miracle Grow. She was stressed to the max.

MM assured me no worry was necessary. After all, there is always the magic of “Super Thrive”. I lacked faith the magic would work. He proved me wrong. The plant, moved to the shade of the back patio, is thriving. With thick green foliage, she’s a happy plant that will winter in the greenhouse.

Twinkling lights grace all the trees in the yard. Up-lighting illuminates my “banyan” apricot tree. The Christmas present of outdoor lighting that MM lovingly installed in early spring, provide a soft glow to the perimeter of Winterpast as the days shorten, turning into cool desert evenings. The best kind of evening for a block party.

With hand written invitations already delivered, 20 neighbors are coming over tomorrow night to enjoy BBQ chicken, Mac N Cheese, fruit, green salad, and signature homemade apple pie. And the great news of upcoming nuptuals. It’ll be fun to spend the evening visiting with friends from our block.

In the background, the wedding favors are in the final phase of completion. Little stickers are secured on the bottom of 300 Hershey’s kisses. Plates, cups, and cutlery for the wedding sit waiting for the big day. THE dress is selected. Shoes are purchased. Thirty favorite songs are now part of my first-ever personal play list. Invitations should arrive today to be sent out ASAP. During this past week, progress has been made, eliminating the need for bridal nightmares.

With a life full of friends and family here on the desert, happiness brings with it laughter and a peace that surpasses all understanding. Memories of a wonderful past life are as beautiful as the blooms of Winterpast. The present is rich and overflowing with fulfilling activities. The future, just like the rose, will unfold under God’s watchful eye. It’s just the way life is.

Whatever you do today, make it count. If you are a person of faith, read some in your Bible. If you already do that, don’t just read it, study it. Such a rich tapestry of life and all the lessons it holds. If your eyesight isn’t the best, listen to the words. Biblegateway.com is a wonderful website offering most languages and versions of the Bible online. Check it out!!

Have a wonderful weekend. More on Monday.

All my attention has been towards music in these past days. Music that will be the backdrop at the best reception of the years. Ours. If you’re a vicenarian or tricenarian, musical choices are fresh and obvious. Just turn on the radio and choose the songs you know and love. Us sexagenarians have extra decades full of musical choices. Old songs carry us back to simpler times.

I grew up in a house full of music. My parents loved music and made sure that we were exposed to it. My father played the trombone in high school. His instrument stayed in the closet until they sold the ranch, a brass object of mystery. My mother played the piano beautifully. The oldest sister escaped and became a twirling majorette. The next played the accordian, the middle one chose the clarinet. And then, there was me.

I learned a little of this and a little of that. Is started with percussion and piano. As I grew, being too cool for the marching band, I stuck with choir, using the instrument God gave me. I played the guitar for a few years, learning enough chords to accompany many popular ballads of the 70’s. Yes, music has always been a part of my life.

Having hours to fill, MM and I came to a quick agreement. Each one of us will pick 25 of our favorite songs. They will be added to a computerized play list, one of his, one of mine, until we have 50. At 3 – 4 minutes a song, that will cover it. Sounds easy, right? Take the challenge, yourself. You’ll find lots of instructions online. Keep trying until you get it.

My list takes me back to a time when my sisters were in high school and I was 5 years old. Having older siblings, I gained a broader appreciation for musical selections outside my own age group. Sam Cooke and Etta James will make a special appearance. But, Jason Mraz also made the mix.

The DJ we chose will be a brand new nephew of mine. This young guy will control the room and get the party started. If you can’t smile in his presence, you might not be in a mood for a wedding reception. At least, not ours. He’ll be the perfect DJ to guide a wonderful night.

One requested dance to happen sometime during the night will be La Conga. Other than that, it will be dancing as usual. No German Polkas. No chicken dance. No electric slide. Just a lot of people on the dance having a great time.

Whatever you do today, enjoy some music. It can lift you right out of a terrible day. Turn on the radio and dance a bit. It will get your blood flowing. Just ask Alexa for your favorites. She will help you find some tunes.

More tomorrow.

There are hundreds of decisions to be made when planning a traditional wedding. Ceremony. Vows. Flowers. Music. Food. Cake. And most important of all, THE DRESS.

Oy.

Vey.

One of the most stressful things for me on any day is the hunt for THE right dress for THE day, quickly approaching. There is a a weird comfort that we are not yet in our wedding month. But, that isn’t reality. The reality is, I need something stunning to wear as I walk down the aisle towards my awaiting groom. Men have it so easy. A suit and tie. Good to go. I must find this form fitting stunner in 28 days or less. The heat is on.

It’s not like I haven’t been trying. Amazon is a great place to buy all kinds of things. Anything you can think of can be delivered to your door. Heck, I even bought my snow blower and lawn mower using the site. The two potting tables sitting in the new greenhouse came from Amazon. Heck, the greenhouse was ordered online. They have anything and everything but the perfect dress.

There has been the need to involve the bank fraud department when I didn’t receive my refund for a July return. There have been dresses that were designed for an XL child. All tawdry and overpriced. Yet, the need for a dress overrides the obvious fact that it’s very hard to find clothing that’s perfect when shopping online. Almost a miracle if you find something.

I did receive the perfect dress, in the perfect size and shade of blue. It was lovely in every way. From Amazon, I held my breath to see how it would fit. Indeed, it fit perfectly. Just one little problem. It had been treated with something around the neck, and was now purple in those areas. A perfectly wonderful defective dress.

Returned.

I’ve visited a tony Bridal salon. It didn’t go well either. Ball gowns, mermaid designs, fit and flare, and just plain “out-there” designs. That was my experience as I looked at traditional gowns. There is nothing traditional about me. I’m a gardening, 67 year old grandmother of 12 that does best in a tee-shirt, shorts, and flat shoes. I don’t wear jewelry or pearls. I’m not a 21 year old bride walking down the aisle while flashing a veiled blush at her new groom.

White is out. Cream is right there with it. No greys or muted colors. And for goodness sakes, it goes without saying “NOOOOOO VEIL”. This sexagenarian does need some color in her dress.

Although the exact color will remain a secret, I was in search of MM’s favorite. I wish I could say that I found a dress in that color. It’s hard to find. So, I went with a color that enhances my natural beauty.

Yesterday, I met with my future Step-Daughter-in-Law-and-Love. Taking off work, she met with me for support as the hunt continued. We looked at all kinds of formal attire. From pant suits (I’m not Bea Arthur from the Golden Girls, although we were both retired teachers), to skirts, to dresses in every color of the rainbow.

I asked for two things. Sleeves and length. The need for long sleeves should be explanatory to anyone with arm wings. I cannot expose the wings to be documented in the eternity of wedding photos. Not. Going. To. Happen. With Size 11’s in flats, the longer the dress the better. Yes. Length. No pants. Sleeves.

And the circus began.

I finally found one dress that would do. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t horrible. It just didn’t feel exactly right. But, with nothing else that was close, it was the front runner.

Until………

I decided to do one more walk-about the store to make sure there was nothing I might have missed.

There, hiding between many other dresses, I found it.

Color — Check

Arms — Check

Length — Check

Fit and Finish — Check

Everyone agreed. It was THE ONE.

A heart-felt thanks to the sweetest of friends for taking time from her busy day to come and help. Not only did we find success with the dress but we also decided on the cake, which she’ll be designing and creating for her dad and me. She’s an amazing woman!

With one big worry off my mind, I was about to leave the store when I remembered that I do need a pair of flats. In 10 minutes, I found, tried on, and purchased the cutest shoes. If you wear a weird size like 11 Narrow, you know, this NEVER, EVER happens on any day in any universe. But it did. Yesterday. In the biggest little city to the west of me.

Whatever you do today, go through your wardrobe and see what you are missing. Do a little shopping. Find something new that makes you feel as special as an October bride. It doesn’t need to be sparkly or expensive. Just crisp and new. Everyone needs a new look once in awhile on their journey towards home.

More tomorrow.

This is a very view of the classroom in which I learned about respect for self, others, and country. Although this photo was taken a few years before my time, the elementary school I attended impressed upon my classmates and I the importance of self discipline. We learned to attend to the lessons at hand and then, learned about the wonders of the world. My teachers could grab the attention of the most squirrelly child, and they did. One way or the other.

Moving forward to 9/11/2023, it’s much more difficult to reproduce this picture. From my recent classroom experience, there’d be breakfast wrappers and juice boxes on the tables. There’d be plenty of nonsense blaring from the loudspeaker in the room. I would’ve just finished passing out breakfasts, taken attendance, wiped spills, opened juice boxes, all while teaching the emotional-social lesson for the day. No time for skippidity-dippity kiddos rushing in for their morning hug and report on the birth of six kitten during the night. Just the rigors of mandated programs and procedures.

I’m sure it’s even more intense this year than last. God bless the teachers and students as they search to find meaningful experiences in the classrooms of today. In my very small town, a handful of teachers made sure that happened on September 11, 2023.

How and why is it that the history of September 11 is not the first thing kids learn about every year????? Just how???? Without a teacher that knows the importance, it’s become just another day. The fifth day of the 2023-24 school year.

Our town will NEVER forget 9/11. Each year, there is an amazing program at the firehouse with the biggest American flag hanging from a boom truck. All the firemen attend in their dress uniforms. The firehouse is scrubbed and shiny, as you would expect a firehouse to be.

My fabulous fiancé who will remain MM for now, and I took our spot in the front row a few minutes before the program began. In the crowd, there were plenty of people I’ve met over the four summers I’ve been a desert gal. Town folk that I now consider friends.

Ninja neighbor started things off by singing the National Anthem. Along with being prettier than Carrie Underwood (and I am not kidding on that one), she jumped right up and belted out the most beautiful song. A cappello. Never drifted off key. I got the feeling that if she wanted too, she could have even been more powerful with her gorgeous voice. A local super-star!!! Who knew?

There were poems and thoughts about the day. My soon-to-be-Brother-in Law-and-Love, The Mayor, gave a rousing speech. And then, we were all hit by a powerhouse of a man.

Major General Ondra L. Berry — Maj. Gen. Ondra L. Berry is the adjutant general of the state of Nevada, the highest ranking officer in the Nevada Guard. He works as the chief advisor to Nevada Gov. Joe Lombardo on all matters affecting the 4,400 soldiers, airmen and civilians in the Nevada Guard.

There were all kinds of people in the audience, but there was a special group of dignitaries that sat outside on the asphalt. Criss-cross-applesauce, butts on the ground. Sixty youngsters. I’m guessing 5th or 6th grade. In a school district of almost 9,000 kids, 60 were treated to the speech of a lifetime. Rising to the occasion, they sat at attention when the Major General began to speak.

He talked to all of us about love of country and what it means to be a first responder. Bravery. Honor. Courage. Faith. Self-respect. Love of Country. Pride. Dreams. REMEMBERING. Being Battle Born. Battle Trained. Battle Ready. Being Proud Nevadans.

Those children, along with the rest of us, drank in his every word. I have no doubt that if one of those kids misbehaved, he would have stepped in to chat. They knew that. It didn’t matter because he commanded the attention of the entire room in the best way possible. He praised the courage and wisdom of the teachers that had made THIS lesson, one of life’s important ones.

As he spoke, he physically turned his body and attention to the children. The speech about the adult topics of patriotism and service to others was delivered to these children. He made eye contact with them as he delivered the message. Never, ever, ever forget.

By the way, he needed no microphone. This man controlled the room, not with volume, but with content.

His speech should have been mandatory viewing for every sing student in our huge school district. The entire event should have been zoomed into every classroom across our high desert plains. But, it wasn’t. Just 60 very lucky kids and their teachers, sitting criss-cross-applesauce for an hour.

Amazing Grace was performed by kilt-wearing pipers.

A 21 gun salute boomed as spent shells hit the ground.

The 5-5-5 bells tolled for the fallen firefighters.

Long before telephones and radios, fire departments used the telegraph to communicate. When the handle was pulled on the once-familiar red fire alarm boxes found on nearly every street corner of America, a special code was transmitted to every fire station. When a firefighter died in the line of duty, the fire alarm office would tap out a special signal. That signal was five measured dashes, then a pause, then five measured dashes, another pause…then five more dashes. This became universally known as the Tolling of the Bell and was broadcast over all telegraph fire alarm circuits. This signal was a sign of honor and respect for all firefighters who had made the ultimate sacrifice and has become a time-honored tradition.

I’m so proud to live in a patriotic town. I’m glad personally know the Sheriff that keeps us safe from harm. How lucky to have a brother that is steering the direction of our town. Blessed am I to have a Fire Chief that is a man among men. I chose well a town that values the ideals of our country as I do.

What a meaningful day of remembrance!

Whatever you do today, think in terms of kindness. Give others the benefit of the doubt and focus on the good that is all around us. Negative thoughts only eat away at a happy heart. Turn your own thoughts towards something happy. It’s good for the soul.

More tomorrow.

Twenty-two years ago, there were things I hadn’t experienced yet. At 45, I hadn’t yet celebrated the first birthday of my 1 month old grandchild. I hadn’t harvested the 12th crop of raisins from our Thompson Seedless vineyard. I hadn’t finished my 5th year of teaching 3rd Grade in Room 20. I hadn’t experienced an all-out attack on the country I love so much. I was just a young teacher driving across the countryside to work another day.

I’d just become an empty nester with two sons serving in the United States Air Force. One would just be leaving the gates of an East Coast base for reassignment to a west coast base. The other son was translating information from bad guys while eavesdropping high above the clouds over England. My sons were grown men on their own. My full attention focused on 20 high-energy 8-year-old’s who loved their teacher, Mrs. Hurt.

Although I was a seasoned traveler, I’d never traveled to New York. It never appealed to someone like me. A concrete jungle is too confining. This country girl needed wide open spaces, often feeling claustrophobic by the miles and miles of perfectly groomed vineyards. New York might as well have been the wilds of Tanzania or Zimbabwe. To this very day, I’ve never visited and have no desire to change that.

The morning of 9/11/2001, I was “Any American Teacher”. Papers in – Papers out. Corrected assignments in the roller cart in the trunk of my car. Black line master’s for the new assignments ready to copy. Just one last thing to do. Kiss VST goodbye for the day and head out to get my XL Diet Coke at the 76 station. Same routine every day. Rain or shine. Bloom or harvest. Just another normal day.

I loved my morning soda stop. The owner of the store happened to be of Middle-Eastern descent. Never gave it much thought. Thought about it a lot in the days to follow.

“Hey, Meez Hurt! Ready to teach today?” He’d always have a nice greeting for me. I’d just grab the soda, run.

On this morning, he was watching his TV screen.

“What’s up? Hot news?”

I saw the initial smoke from the sky-scrapers. Didn’t look too exciting. Something in New York. But, wasn’t there ALWAYS something in New York? The news said a small plane had hit the World Trade Center. Ahh, how sad for the families involved. I wished him well and went on my way.

Along the way, the radio filled me in on how the world had just changed in an instant. Arriving at school, I wasn’t the same Mrs. Hurt that’d just left the safety of the ranch. In an instant, I was the mom of two Airmen. I was the daughter of parents that had just flown across the Atlantic while returning from a golden anniversary trip to Europe. I was the grandmother of a little baby that would live his entire life in a world changed in horrific ways.

20 kids would enter Room 20 at 7:45 am. 20 kids would need answers and 7.5 hours of love and care from one traumatized teacher that just needed a minute to scream, “WHY????”

9/11/2001.

The teachers all wore dark glasses to hide our shock and tears that day. We took turns cramming around the secretary’s desk to watch the coverage, while making sure the kids outside had yard duty teachers to watch over them. We tried to carry on as we would on any regular school day. That’s what you do when you’re in charge of littles. No matter what, count heads and keep going.

Children figure things out. One child knew. Then another. Then another. Finally, with little eyes focused on one very scared teacher, we sat on the carpet in a big circle and talked about what had just happened. They asked questions. I told them I really didn’t know, because teachers certainly don’t know everything on a day like that. They cried a little bit. So did I. And then, we brainstormed.

One child had a brilliant idea. Could they write letters and draw pictures for the nurses and doctors in New York? What about the firemen? And policeman? Could they watercolor?

“Mrs. Hurt, we don’t know how to write a letter! Can you help us? “

“How do you spell doctor?”

“Where is New York City?”

“Are the bad people coming here?”

So many lessons were covered that day. The geography of the United States of America. Art. Kindness. Love. Support. Penmanship. Spelling. Grammar. As a family 3rd Graders, we were a class on a mission. Together, we clawed our way through the first day of a new way of life. The blue-sky, happy-go-luckiness of before was gone forever more.

Years, later, in 2014, I went to my last 9/11 remembrance at PELCO in Clovis, California. PELCO was one of the companies supplying surveillance cameras in the World Trade Center. Throughout the horrific order, the employees had maintained a special relationship with their friends in New York and held a yearly service that was something to experience. A block of land in the California parking lot had been deeded to New York. A piece of beam from the World Trade Center rests in a small museum there. Family born of blood.

After the ceremony, I was getting ready to leave when someone tapped me on the shoulder. As I turned, two young adults stood before me. I couldn’t place them at first.

“Mrs. Hurt. It’s you!”

“Hi there! I am so sorry. It’s been a morning and a few years have passed. You’re going to need to help me out.”

As quick as anything, the young woman shared a memory and code that only a member of Room 20 would know. And then, she smiled. It’s always in the smile. Just like that, my heart remembered her. My little student from long ago. My Allegra.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hurt. You were there for us. You kept us safe that day.” 13 years later, it was she that comforted her teacher. We both cried as we held each other tight. Just like that, we tumbled back in time to the horrible day we tried to make things better with crayons, paint, and a lesson in letter writing.

So much lost and so much found on September 11.

Whatever you do today, REMEMBER. Sit for a moment. THINK. Find one thing you could make better today and ACT. Each 9/11, I give one gift to a place it will do the most good. Say Hello to someone that looks down. Help a neighbor that needs it. Call a lonely friend. Do something really good, on a day that, long ago, was really bad. Please, just REMEMBER. Never, ever, ever forget. But then, how could anyone forget what we lost that day?

A quick note. If you have not heard of Gander, Newfoundland and the miracle that occurred there on 9/11 learn about it. TODAY. There is a wonderful play online. Come From Away. Read the back story about the 30+ jumbo jets that had to land in on an airstrip, emptying all their passengers into a town of 6,000+. Learn about it and the love shared by strangers. It will change you in a good way.

More tomorrow.