Snow in Chicago

 Snow holds no mystery for us as we have experienced it for our entire lives until we got married and fled. But then my husband was a TA at Iowa State University. Snow swept across the prairie and locked us in at any given time.

Victorville, California

And then...

We dwelled in Victorville, California, in the Mojave Desert, a hellish wasteland. Surrounded by flat fields of sand, sagebrush, scrubs, and tumbleweeds, our family grew there for seven years. When the temperature plummeted to 94 deg. F/37 C., it felt like we needed jackets.

And then....

We moved to Ireland then where there was rain every day.  It was joyous, for the world was green and lush. Sadly, we lived there for only a few years.

And now...

Now we are enjoying a fairly even climate and enjoying the beauty of our area.  But, we miss some of the spring, all of the fall, and maybe a nibble of winter from Illinois. Summer in the Midwest is not missed at all.

And then...

My son John married Arlette in Chicago at December 4, 2016, with both families all around. What we also experienced was an unexpected taste of winter.

Just a taste, a beautiful taste was all we needed.

A cemetery was across the street from our really cool hotel. When
we arrived , I promised our gr-daughters we would explore
it tomorrow.

And then...

The next day we woke up to see snow, it was glorious.

The table on the balcony was pure and smooth.

Our gr-daughters were thrilled when the snowflakes began
to fall. 

And then the next day, we left the snow behind and flew

to LAX. The diamonds of light lay down below, making Los Angeles 

truly resemble where angels might actually have been.

God created snow, rain, desert, etc. He has a plan for us, for what awaits us. 

Snow? It is all part of the plan, just like barren wilderness or swamps, it is all part of His plan.

So, I guess we have to go with "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."

This is a post from long ago.  Our son John got married back in 2016, and it was a great day.

And may the strength of three be in your journey. Sláinte’.

 

Saint Patrick's Day: At King David’s Pub and Winery

(Scene opens in Heaven, at David's Pub.  Seamus and Patrick are sitting at the bar.  Patrick is asleep, with his head on the bar counter.)

Seamus (St. James):  Say, Paddy, now.  Wake up, you idjit. 

Padraig (St. Patrick)/Paddy:  Ah, Seamus.  Can ye not leave a good saint to a daecent sleep?

Seamus:  It’s yer people there, Paddy.  They’re at it again.  (Leaning over his pint, looking down on the velvet green)

Paddy:  Oh, Mother of God, is it that day already?

Maire (St. Mary):  Paddy, was it ye who called?  Oh.  (She looks down on Dublin.)  So.  Yer Irishmen are at the celebratin’ yer Holy Day.  The day ye up and died down there.

Paddy:  (Looking down) So ‘tis, Maire.  And would ye look—Chicago has dumped green into ta rivers again!  As if that meant a ting, Lord help us.

The Lord God: (enters with angels singing and clouds billowing)  Was it ye, Paddy, that called m’name?  (Seamus and Paddy vacate their pub stools immediately.)    David, here, be a good man, and pour me a glass of cider.

King David:  Aye, My Lord.  The best Yer Hands ever made, here Ye go.  Have at it. (David pushes the glass over to God, who has settled down on a stool.)

The Lord God:  So, Paddy, what’s troublin’ ye, up here in heaven? 

Paddy:  Oh, it’s the Irish people agin.  They’re after celebratin’ my holy day with all sorts of carryin’ ons.  And it bein’ Lent, ‘tis a sad ting ta behold. 

Chicago

The Lord God:  (quaffing a satisfying amount of apple cider) Well, ye know, Paddy,  People ha’ forgotten jest what I did for them, sendin’ ye to Ireland.  They were a terrible mean group, worshippin’ trees and such, ‘fore ye taught ‘em about the Trinity.

  

Seamus:  Yer right, My Lord.  An’ Paddy drove out them there serpents, and done all them miracles.  Ye did right good work, there.  (Seamus pats Paddy on the shoulder, who nods and perks up a bit.  Maire sits down next to The Lord God.)

The Lord God:    ‘Tis my desire that ye shake the Irish up a wee bit.  Paddy, ye go down to yer holy wells—there’s one down near Cork I’m partial to.  Stir the waters up a bit when there’s a group there.  And, Maire, go to some of yer holy grottoes, and send some tears down the cheeks of yer image.  That’ll make the Irish think a bit.  I bet ye’ll see more pious Irish at Mass come Good Friday.

Ballinaspittle, Cork Ireland

 Seamus:  I’ll go along with ‘em, My Lord, jest to keep ‘em company.  (The three saints exit.)

The Lord God:  (watches the saints depart, and laughs softly) Ah, there go some fine saints.  Glad I made ‘em.  (He leaves the pub in a cloud of glory, with angels singing.  David gathers up the glassware, and hums “When the saints go marching in…”  Scene ends.)

Hand hurts less.  Right hand is complaining. This is a repost from 2015. it was fun to do.  How to pronounce Toast below.. 

SLAHN'-CHUH

Potluck in Old Walderren

Potluck dinner in  some church, some where.

A moratorium  now outlawed church potlucks in Old Walderren. The last one caused a flash fire when the Barbeque Pit exploded, sending miscellaneous pork bits and ribs, along with Bob’s Secret Ingredient (lots of whiskey) flaming sauce, flying over to Ol' Miz Guthrie’s tiny old house.

Ol' Miz Guthrie heard screaming coming her way, and then smelled the barbeque fire on her roof.  “Oh, Lordy, Lordy!  My house ‘s afire!”  As fast as a squirrel on a live wire, she scampered out the door, wringing her hands while the fire department extinguished the barbeque flickers of flame.

No damage done,  Ol' Miz Guthrie thanked everyone, shushing them away, and hurried back inside.  Looking around at her immaculate, nicely decorated home, she raced down the steps to her basement, which was packed with a fireproof chest of jewelry (oh, how she love nice expensive jewelry), and packs of one-hundred bills. 

Unbeknownst to the community, Ol' Miz Guthrie was quite a spendthrift made possible by her late husband’s last bank robbery in 1955 in Chicago.  I gotta out of this town.

The next day her brother Ralf showed up at night with a big van and they moved everything from the basement during the big school dance.  Just before she closed the front door, Old Miz Guthrie turned the old gas cooker on high, and tossed a burning dish towel through the door.

The town mourned for her. Damned BBQ sauce.

This is a repost from March 2015, Wednesday Words. Oh, Lordy, they are fun.

Joy to the World

We never see snow at all, so this was such a treat. We left the next day, for LAX California

The year I was born: 1951.
The day was: 4th

And on December 4, 2016, I turned 65 (sixty-five, yup).

It was the best birthday of my life.  Our son John married Arlette Foy, and we rejoiced in a big way.  Chicago sparkled all on its own.

This was a truly joyous day, just can't tell you how much.

John and Arlette Foy Kane

In the pass way

John and John, son and father

Lily and Clara, our granddaughters

Cemetery across the road from our hotel

Our hotel looked out on a cemetery

Catching the snow coming down

On the balcony of the hotel

Flying in to LAX

And then...

John and Arlette with Flynn, born May 6, 2018

Grandpa and Grandma

July 2018

Today is my 67th birthday. I look good, a few wrinkles or more, surrounded by those whom I love, my husband of 46 years, and a field of happiness around us. 

We are blessed.

Thank you, God.

Romantic Interlude with Snow

From my phone, cemetery across the street from the hotel

My son John was married on December 4^th. to a lovely woman Arlette.  We flew to Chicago for the weekend and witnessed a beautiful wedding, which filled me with tears and happiness.

It was cold, just below freezing.  Not 1° like it is today, but just cold enough for flakes of snow.

Bare trees, as we never see them in desert California

By the time we returned to the hotel after the wedding, big flakes of wet snow were falling heavily.  My granddaughters were with us, and they ran in and out onto the balcony.

Falling snow as seen through my phone, with streetlight below

It was an amazing day.  We are blessed.

All is at peace.


This is my last post until after the New Year.  May God bless you all, and keep you, make His face to shine upon you, and grant you peace.

Nathan, the 'Gator Man

Some of my family stories are true to the letter, while others have been stretched yet maintain that kernel that started it in the first place.  The following was told to me by my brother, as his son had told him.

Late fall was coming on, with blast of premature snow.   Nathan Peck was a Chicago city engineer who worked with all departments. Nathan has a gift, one of many.  He makes friends, tells awesome stories, and plays the most unimaginable practical jokes on any vulnerable person.

The saran wrap across the toilet seat?  Amateurs.

 

Change out the black and white keys of the keyboard?  Smirk.

Collecting all the chairs from the waiting room and stacking them in the CEO’s office? Hmph.

In one freezing November in Chicago, Nathan received a call from one of the field workers who reported something that caused Nathan to race out the office and squeal out the parking lot.  

When he arrived, the guys pointed to the frozen specimen of a five-foot alligator, sticking out a drainage pipe. They wrapped orange cord under and around the frozen carnivore, and it took all eight men to dislodge the swamp dweller from the ice.

St. Patrick's Day: a re-post

Saint Patrick's Day: At King David’s Pub and Winery

(Scene opens in Heaven, at the Pub.  Seamus and Patrick are sitting at the bar.  Patrick is asleep, with his head on the bar counter.)

Seamus (St. James):  Say, Paddy, now.  Wake up, you idjit. 

Padraig (St. Patrick)/Paddy:  Ah, Seamus.  Can ye not leave a good saint to a daecent sleep?

Seamus:  It’s yer people there, Paddy.  They’re at it again.  (Leaning over his pint, looking down on the velvet green)

Paddy:  Oh, Mother of God, is it that day already?

Maire (St. Mary):  Paddy, was it ye who called?  Oh.  (She looks down on Dublin.)  So.  Yer Irishmen are at the celebratin’ yer Holy Day.  The day ye up and died down there.

Paddy:  (Looking down) So it ‘tis, Maire.  And would ye look—Chicago has dumped green into ta rivers again!  As if that meant a ting, Lord help us.

The Lord God: (enters with angels singing and clouds billowing)  Was it ye, Paddy, that called m’name?  (Seamus and Paddy vacate their pub stools immediately.)    David, here, be a good man, and pour me a glass of cider.

King David:  Aye, My Lord.  The best Yer Hands ever made, here Ye go.  Have at it. (David pushes the glass over to God, who has settled down on a stool.)

The Lord God:  So, Paddy, what’s troublin’ ye, up here in heaven?

Paddy:  Oh, it’s the Irish people agin.  They’re after celebratin’ my holy day with all sorts of carryin’ ons.  And it bein’ Lent, ‘tis a sad ting ta behold.

The Lord God:  (quaffing a satisfying amount of apple cider) Well, ye know, Paddy,  People ha’ forgotten jest what I did for them, sendin’ ye to Ireland.  They were a terrible mean group, worshippin’ trees and such, ‘fore ye taught ‘em about the Trinity.

  

Seamus:  Yer right, My Lord.  An’ Paddy drove out them there serpents, and done all them miracles.  Ye did right good work, there.  (Seamus pats Paddy on the shoulder, who nods and perks up a bit.  Maire sits down next to The Lord God.)

The Lord God:    ‘Tis my desire that ye shake the Irish up a wee bit.  Paddy, ye go down to yer holy wells—there’s one down near Clonmel I’m partial to.  Stir the waters up a bit when there’s a group there.  And, Maire, go to some of yer holy grottoes, and send some tears down the cheeks of yer image.  That’ll make the Irish think a bit.  I bet ye’ll see more pious Irish at Mass come Good Friday.

Seamus:  I’ll go along with ‘em, My Lord, jest to keep ‘em company.  (The three saints exit.)

The Lord God:  (watches the saints depart, and laughs softly) Ah, there go some fine saints.  Glad I made ‘em.  (He leaves the pub in a cloud of glory, with angels singing.  David gathers up the glassware, and hums “When the saints go marching in…”  Scene ends.)

If I have offended any, please forgive me.  I lived in Ireland, and have a different perspective. This is a re-post from March, 2011.