It's Not About The Twinkies

I've heard all sorts of remarks since Friday.  Most of them have something to do with the world being okay in the absence of Twinkies, welcome to a less obese America, less incidence of type-2 diabetes, things like that.  I can understand how people see Hostess as a company that makes Twinkies and other such treats and their thinking that the world will be just fine in the absence of unnecessary junk food.  It's a lot easier to think of Hostess in terms of Twinkies and Ding Dongs and not to think about the 18,000+ people who have lost their jobs.

I started shopping at the Wonder/Hostess Bakery Thriftshop in Provo over 20 years ago.  I loved being able to get inexpensive bread, bagels, tortillas and even a few treats.  (Remember my chocolate waxy donut obsession?  Yeah.)

Over the years I got to know some of the people who worked at the 'Bread Store' (as we call it in our family).  Most employees would come and go, but the one constant (minus a few years when she worked in another store location) was Peggy.

Peggy came to know what I would be looking for when I'd come in.  She'd let me know when they had something fresher in the back room.  She'd say things like, "Did you want wheat tortillas?  I think we've got some in back" or "We'll probably get in some more of that bread you like on Monday."  She'd ask how my pregnancies were going, how old my babies were getting to be and ask about my plans for the holidays.  I'd ask her what she had been up to and thank her for her help, care and concern.  Even though we never saw each other outside of the Bread Store, Peggy became a friend over the years - almost like family.

So the first thought I had last Friday after reading the news of Hostess closing its doors for good was what's going to happen to Peggy and everyone else at the Bread Store?  I worried that it may have already closed that morning.  I had to go and see her, see the store one more time.

I was amazed to see how many cars were there as I drove into the usually empty parking lot.  The line wrapped all along the back of the store and people's carts were loaded.  I walked to the back office and peeked in.  There was Peggy.  "Hi there!" she called to me in her usual friendly manner.  She walked over and I asked, "How are you doing?"  She told me that for now she was just staying busy.  It was still such a shock to her that the place where she had worked for 26 years would abruptly be closing its doors.  There were other regular customers there to say goodbye, so I wished her good luck and grabbed a couple loaves of bread and a box of chocolate Zingers (I bypassed the Twinkies and do not regret it) to purchase before leaving.

I could not stop thinking about my friends at the Bread Store for the rest of the day.  Saturday morning I had to go back.  I wasn't sure how to compensate for the loss I felt - it didn't seem rational to be so distraught over someone I only saw every couple of weeks when I'd go to buy bread.  But it makes sense, really - 20 years of seeing someone that often, someone who took the time to ask how I was doing, someone who watched my family grow, how could I not feel sad about losing that small connection?  I brought my camera.

Again, I walked to the back office and saw Peggy.  I asked her if I could take her picture.  She agreed, but only if I was in the photo with her.

"This is like losing members of my family," she said, giving me a hug.  And then, as if validating her words, there was a constant stream of others who came bearing well-wishes.  The people who knew Peggy like I did.  The ones who came to say goodbye.  The ones she knew well enough to say things like, "We've still got some fruitcake!  It's right over here".

 
Or, "You missed out on the Twinkies, they were gone by noon yesterday".   

I gave her another hug, wished her all the best, and walked to my car.  "I'd say see you later, but I guess I won't.  You take care!" she called after me.

That's why for me this is not about Twinkies.  It's about people who are suddenly looking for a new job.  It's about mothers and sisters and uncles and grandpas who find themselves in the unemployment line just in time for the holidays.  It's about losing people who, in a simple and kind of crazy way, became like family.

It's about 18,000+ real people with real lives.  Like Peggy.

Sixth Grade Science Fair

photo here

Are science project assignments fair?  Is life fair?  I don't know.  But here's what I do know.  When a kid, out of necessity, is stuck doing a science project on her own, it's going to be lame.  When there is no abundance of materials at her disposal, only what she can find in her family's small apartment, it is not going to compare to the intricate machines with buttons and switches or the 3-fold presentation boards that outline the details of how things operate.  I'd be willing to bet that any kid who completed their science project completely on their own has never won a science fair.  But as the saying goes, winning isn't everything.

I was in the 6th grade when the assignment was given to me.  I don't remember too many details of what was expected, only that we had a month or so to have it ready. This was in the days before the internet (1983, Baby!) so I headed to one of my favorite places to search for ideas.  I crossed the street, cut through Victor Park and entered the familiar doors of the Henderson Library.  I asked the woman behind the counter if she had any books on science fair projects and she expertly turned to her card catalog system and found what I needed.

 photo here

(As a side note, I was always so fascinated by the library card catalog system.  I love the ease of access we have with the internet, but there's something awesome about pulling open a little drawer filled with index cards and flipping through each one until you've found what you're searching for.)

She directed me to the section of the library where the non-fiction books were housed and showed me which area held the books I could browse through.  Each book brought greater disappointment as I realized I could never make anything I saw in there.  I had no idea that there were stores that sold the kind of materials these projects called for.  But even if I did, it wouldn't have mattered.  We did not have money to spend on such things.

I left the library feeling defeated.  I was a good student who always turned things in on time but this project was impossible.  I had no one to help me and I had no idea where to even begin.  I felt sick each time the teacher mentioned our projects and reminded us that the date they were due was fast approaching. 

The morning our projects were turned in there was a happy, excited buzz about the classroom.  Each student's desk held their completed project - everything from intricate marble tracks to re-creations of the invention of electricity to graphs and charts detailing the dissolving of nails in various types of soda.  I placed my backpack on my desk so it wouldn't look quite so empty.

Our teacher, Mr. Sylvester, gave each student some time to present their project to the rest of the class.  He went down each row and when I saw that my turn would be coming up I asked to use the bathroom.  When I returned the students in the row behind mine were sharing their projects.  I had momentarily escaped the shame that I knew was inevitable.

When class let out at the end of the day, Mr. Sylvester walked to my desk and asked to speak with me for a moment.  I was painfully shy and thought I would burst into tears, fearing that I had disappointed my teacher.  He asked if I was still working on my project.  I told him no.  He asked if I had forgotten to bring it.  I shook my head.  He explained that the Science Fair wasn't for another week so I still had time to get something done and bring it in.  I nodded.

I walked the two miles to the Civic Center Library, hoping I could find something different in their larger selection of books.  I told one of the librarians that I needed ideas for very simple science projects, things I could make without spending any money.  She found me a book with projects that were so simple in comparison to what the other kids had turned in (each one took less than 20 minutes to put together) that I was too embarrassed (or maybe it was proud?) to make any of them.  I also doubted that I had the materials needed for some of these simple machines.  However, I checked the book out, thinking maybe I could combine a couple of the ideas to produce something acceptable.  As much as I tried, nothing worked out.

On Thursday Mr. Sylvester asked me if I was working on my project.  I nodded my head, telling myself it wasn't a lie when I was truly thinking about what I could do.  "Do you think you'll be able to get it in by  tomorrow?" he asked.  I shrugged.  I hadn't found anything.  Mr. Sylvester was a kind man.  One who saw past the shyness and understood some of my life circumstances.  "You just have to bring in something, Gerberta," he told me.  "I can't give you a grade on nothing.  But if I know you've tried your best and brought in something that shows you're trying, you'll pass this assignment.  You're a good student."  I nodded again.    

That afternoon and evening, I scoured the book for something I could create.  There was a system of spool pulleys connected by rubber bands that turned with a popsicle stick crank on a piece of foam board.  We had rubber bands from my brother's paper route and thread in my mom's sewing cabinet but no empty spools and definitely no popsicle sticks or foam board.  I debated carefully unwinding the thread from my mother's spools, hiding the thread, then carefully re-threading the spools later.  I searched outside for a stick that could fit into the end of a spool, with no luck.  I accepted defeat and for the first time in my life I tried to think of a way to avoid going to school the next morning.

Morning came and along with it came dread.  I couldn't stay at home because I would be found out.  I couldn't escape to the library because they would know I should be at school.  I could think of no other place to hide.  I walked into my classroom, avoiding eye contact with Mr. Sylvester.  At lunch time he approached me.  "No project, Gerberta?"  I shook my head, trying to look at the ground to hide my tears.  "The Science Fair isn't until tonight, you know.  You could still bring something after school.  Couldn't you go home and make something before the Fair starts?  You could make something simple - even a spool of thread on a pencil can be a simple machine.  Do you think you could do that?"  I nodded, despite knowing I could not bring in such a mediocre thing which required no effort.

When I got home after school I looked through the book again.  Mr. Sylvester was so good-hearted and kind to me.  The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint him.  I turned each page slowly and would search the apartment for anything that was even close to the needed materials for each design.  Each page brought a fresh wave of discouragement until I found the instructions for a pinhole camera.  It was simple, yes.  But I could bring my lamp and set it on the table, too - that would make it look a bit more exciting.  I started to feel like this could actually work out.  I went to the kitchen and found that we had a cylindrical box of oatmeal that I emptied into a Tupperware container.  I covered the open end of the box with a square of wax paper and held it in place with a rubber band.  I grabbed a ruler, found the center of the bottom panel of the oatmeal container and drilled a hole into it with the end of a sharp pencil.  It was finished.

I ran to my room and pointed the tiny hole towards the light bulb on my lamp as I looked at my wax paper screen.  Sure enough, my light bulb appeared upside down!  It was almost like magic.  And I can't tell you the pride I felt at having created it myself!  On the inside of a cereal box I neatly printed out an explanation of how the camera worked, along with a simple picture that I copied from the book.

The Science Fair had already started so I grabbed my creations and my lamp and hurried toward the school.  When I walked into the crowded gym some of my enthusiasm waned.  There were parents and teachers walking from table to table as each excited student showed how their project worked.  I wasn't sure where to go.  I looked around and spotted my teacher.  He saw me and smiled, showed me to an empty table and helped me get situated.  It wasn't long before the judging was completed, the winners were announced, and we all found our way back home.

I don't think it will come as a surprise that I didn't win any awards that night.  But I can guarantee you that there wasn't any child there who was more bursting with accomplishment than I was with my silly little pinhole camera.

That was the day that I realized that I could do anything.

Random Thoughts

 This is possibly one of my best finds, ever.

I don't understand green Skittles.  They taste the same way I imagine Lysol tastes when I smell it.  The yellows aren't my favorite, either.  But at least they don't taste like Lysol.

That's why I can always count on chocolate.  No matter what else is thrown in to a piece of chocolate - caramel, nougat, nuts, rice crispies - I know it will all work out just fine because there's chocolate, too.

Don't even suggest chocolate-covered green Skittles, though.  Who wants to ruin their chocolate with Lysol?

Speaking of chocolate, though - Toblerone was already some good stuff.  Then they went and made their stuff even better.  When I saw their newest bar on the shelf in its beautiful blue package (Crunchy Salted Almond, anyone?) there was no question as to whether or not I would buy it.  The question was if it would stay in its wrapper before I made it to checkout!

The new self-checkout lines at our local Sam's Club are the best thing, ever.  The only way to make them better is to allow you to pay with cash.  I think they should implement that change immediately.

We had a really great discussion at church a couple of weeks ago on acceptance, including others, and judging.  It has made me think a lot, every day since then.  Because I am totally guilty of unfairly judging others.  Not out loud, but in my head.  I hate to admit that, but there you go.  One of my big, huge weaknesses.  It bothers me that I do it.  So I've been trying to decide what it is that flips on the judging switch in my brain.  I think I've got it figured out.  I think that when others have something that I am lacking, something that I want or wish I had, I tend to judge them.  Why?  Is it because I am somehow elevating myself by bringing them down?  I haven't figured out that part yet.  But the good thing is that I'm aware I do it and I tend to stop myself now.  I want to be better.

I have probably judged you at some time or another, and I am truly sorry.  It probably just means there is something about you that is AWESOME.  So own that.

Today I am feeling hopeless and uncontrollably emotional.  I am in a daze.  I am trying not to feel this way but I can't help it.  I am one tiny voice in a sea of millions and this morning I realized how very alone that feels.  I hate to admit it, but I'm very, very scared.  And I'll leave it at that. 

What is a mid-life crisis, exactly?  I mean, I've heard of them.  I'm just not sure how to define one.  Is it when you start thinking that you can't wear R2-D2 t-shirts and Converse for the rest of your life?  And is it that thought that you need to grow up or the sadness that envelops you when you realize it's probably true that causes it?

Is it something brought on by major, unexpected changes in your life - like the death of a dear friend?  Or does it just creep up on you as you age, gradually building up in some recess of your brain until there's no more room to contain it and it slowly seeps out in the form of self-doubt and worry and fear?

I have no answers to these questions.  And I don't suppose you do, either.  But somehow it feels good to throw them out there.

Quick Quips

Little O: I know that song!  That's the song Mom songed me when I was a little baby!
 
Little O comes into the living room in nothing but his underwear.
Me: Hey, where are your clothes?
Little O: I think it is Naked Day at the kids' school.
Me: What?  They don't have Naked Day at school!
Little O: Why not?

Hubba asked me to check his math homework.  I loved this:

Me: It is time for bed!  Go to bed!
Little O: Look!  I builded a spaceship!
Me: Well, I built you and you need to go to bed.
Little O: What?  You didn't build me!
All-a-Boy: Who are you, Obama?
 
Part of a letter Cowgirl sent to Allen-the-Younger on his mission:

Me: You are growing up so fast!
Little O: Mom, I don't wanna grow up so fast.  I'm not finished being a kid.
Me: (heart melting) Well, stay little.  I like you this way.
Little O: But I can't.  We all get bigger and bigger and then I'm a dad and I'm not your sweet boy anymore.
Me: You will always be my sweet boy, Little O.
Little O: (He grabs my cheeks with his little hands and looks into my eyes about a half inch from my face) Pwomise?
Me: I promise.


Little O: Mom, why did you called yourself A-Bird-Dog?
Me: I never called myself that.
Little O: Yes you did.  On the phone.
Me: You mean Gerberta.
Little O: No.  I mean A-Bird-Dog.  But I like 'mom' better.

Finding The Wall

Colville, Washington.  A fabric store, described as a 'hellacious place of child torture' from when he was young.  And an alley created by a store fire next door.  These are the hints we had to help us find the place where this picture was taken:

As we slowly drove down Colville's main road, we found what we were looking for.  A fabric store with the remnants of a mural flaking off of its outer brick wall.

I couldn't help but notice the ghostly faces staring back at me from the cracking, withered paint.

 
It reminded me of how Jason would often threaten me with a haunting by the ghosts of yesteryear if I ever shared his recipe for Chunk-a-Poo cookies. 

Despite the fact that the wall's colors were all but weathered away now, we tried to duplicate the shot that Jason had of himself.

I have always felt silly trying to pose and make it look natural.  It's definitely not my forte.  But it was fun to have a little alleyway photo session in the middle of our trip.  Despite the fact that our photos are not nearly as vibrant as Jason's, we were excited to have found another of the places that represented a memory of a day in the life of our friend.
  

Halloween 2012

 Still no spook alley, but plenty of Jack-o-lanterns to welcome the trick-or-treaters.

Halloween!  My favorite holiday.  Here are the costumes my crew chose this year, from the wee-est one to the high school senior (I think it's a safe bet that Allen the Younger dressed like a missionary).

Here's Baby X, in perfectly appropriate attire.  It's a miracle the hat is on long enough for this picture.  He sure makes a cute little devil, doesn't he?

This was another option for X.  He loved flapping the wings and saying 'bock-bock' for about 3 seconds and then he was done.  But I had to include the picture anyway because, well, he is the baby after all. 

Just try finding a cuter cowboy.  (Hint: impossible!)  The hat's from the dollar store, in case you wanted one.  

 

 Amelia Earhart.  Her favorite part was getting new boots to go with the outfit. 

Pretty much every year, this is what Hubba wants to be.  Unfortunately, his old pajamas got holes in the knees.  This new set is even better, though - not only did it come with a hat and gloves, it glows in the dark!  He kept making faces but I eventually got a sorta-smile out of him.

 Then he said, "Now do a scary one!"

Princess wanted to be a trash can (?) until we pulled out all of the old Halloween costumes.  When she saw All-a-Boy's old Jedi get-up, she was sold on being a Padawan.  (See the braid?  She's not a full-fledged Jedi yet.  She couldn't believe that almost no one noticed this.)

Cowgirl wanted to be a robot.  Then a pirate.  Then Penny Pingleton from Hairspray.  Or any of the above.  Once we found the shoes there was no turning back.  

All-a-Boy chose to be Han Solo.  His costume was nice and simple - except for finding riding boots.  He was happy with it until he went to school and everyone kept asking him if he was a pirate.  Do people not watch Star Wars anymore?

Thumbelina had no time to think about what she wanted to dress up as, let alone put it together.  She was busy making purses and a robe for some friends up until the very last minute.  Five minutes into the neighborhood Halloween party, she put this together for the night.

She made it even cuter with accessories the next day at school, but I forgot to snap a picture.  Either way, she's cute.

ElemenoB.  The crazy cat lady.  She came up with this one without my help and put it together with the help of her friends' younger siblings' stuffed cats.  At one point her friend's little brother walked up, took his cat from her, and walked away.  It's okay.  She had more cats.

I dressed as Stargirl, complete with her pet rat, CInnamon, perched on my shoulder.  Nobody knew who I was supposed to be.  I kind of liked it.  Most people would say things like, "I thought that was a tame kitten there" or "Oh.  You have a rat on you." (followed by nervous laughter).  If someone actually asked me who I was dressed as I gave them a treat and suggested they should read the book.  If trick-or-treaters asked who I was they got chocolate instead of fruit snacks.  If they KNEW who I was, they got a bag of popcorn and a whole package of candy.  Only one person knew, and only because she googled it on her phone when I told her my rat's name was Cinnamon.

You should read the book.  It's my favorite.

The Hoot Owl

Our visit to Sandpoint would not have been complete without a stop at the Hoot Owl Cafe.  It was kind of fun to see some of the places our friend Jason wrote about and captured in photographs - almost like stepping into a movie set that was the background for his life story. 

The outside of The Hoot Owl was just as inviting as the inside with its bright flowers and fun adornments.

We quickly learned that every female that steps through the doors is called 'Sweetie' and every male, regardless of age, is referred to as 'Young Man'.  We were told of the breakfast special and handed our menus which were as fun to look at as the walls of the Cafe.

 (When my kids saw this picture of Janelle one of my girls immediately said, "She's so pretty!"  Own it, Janelle!)

Seriously - the menu was awesome.  There were things like Red Neck Eggs Benedict and even Green Eggs and Ham!

 

As we waited for our food I was scouring the menu, determined to find some kind of error.  (Yeah, I'm a nerd.  It's what I do.)  Sure enough...

Once the food arrived, all steaming hot and smelling delicious, it filled the table.

The patrons of the Cafe must have thought we were crazy when we got excited about a fly who buzzed around our table.  "One of the trained flies that Jason talked about!" Janelle exclaimed.  We got out our cameras and tried to capture it but it wouldn't hold still.  It finally came to rest on a knife and I got a blurry shot before it buzzed away to another table.
  

The walls inside the Hoot Owl are covered with all sorts of fun sayings and signs.  I think this one was my favorite, though:

 When it came time to leave we noticed this sign on the bulletin board just outside the door.

 

I kind of wanted to pull just about every tab, but decided to leave it there for others who might be more in need of what was offered.  (Wouldn't it be great if it was that easy?)

 

 

Extreme Makeover

 My friend Janelle and I took a road trip recently.  We went to go visit a friend.  The drive to his new place in Sandpoint was long, but we hardly noticed due to the beautiful scenery and great company.

As we drove through the mountains and valleys, enjoying the awesome fall colors and our picturesque surroundings, we couldn't help but think of our friend and how much he would have enjoyed being there with us.  As we came into Sandpoint and drove down the road which led to the cemetery we looked in the sky and noticed some Z-shaped clouds welcoming us.  Coincidence?

Maybe.  But we didn't think so.

We easily found the marker at Jason's little spot of ground.  I gave him the pumpkin that my family had all signed, a gift we decided on knowing that autumn was his favorite season.  Because of the time of year, everything looked barren and gray.  Janelle and I decided that we needed to cheer things up a bit.  We did what girls do.  We went and purchased some items for a little makeover.

When we returned the next day, we tried out some of the decorations.  First, a sweet little kitty.  

It's true that Joey Dosent Like Kittys, but this kitty sure liked Jason.  However, we decided to go with something a little more manly.  Jason's favorite holiday was definitely Halloween, and since his headstone wasn't in yet we found a temporary fix along with a couple of extra items to make his place look festive.  The skeleton on the headstone even wore a little smirk - we thought Jason would like that.

We worried a little bit about what others might think if they came across our awesome Haloween makeover.  So, as much as we knew Jason would say something like "That's brilliant!" or "This is awesoooome!", we went with a more traditional kind of autumn decor.

Here's the whole family plot.  It's in a beautiful, peaceful place, just up against some trees in a far corner of the cemetery.

We took some time to sit and chat with our friend before leaving on the next leg of our journey, to visit some of the places he talked and wrote about.
 

As we drove away I looked back at our little makeover and thought, we did good.  I loved how we were able to transform his little spot of earth into the bright spot of the cemetery.
 

Please Explain