Christmas Morning with a Lionel Girl's Train

    Christmas morning protocol was not set in stone, but we adhered to it.  We wanted to make sure that Santa had eaten his cookies and drank his milk, and that Mom and Dad were sufficiently awake to navigate through any presents that Santa may have left.  Years later we knew that Christmas protocol was really for Mom and Dad to enjoy a cup of hot coffee and some Christmas cookies or toast before the opening of presents and all the screaming that accompanied that tradition!

    We had to wait until “Santa” and his “helper” had arranged the gifts properly by name, the tree lights were turned on, the stockings were checked for last minute additions, and that everything was ready for the onslaught of three little girls to follow.  Dad would call, “Ready”! and we would come running down 23 stairs from the second floor to the first, barely hanging on to the railing, our feet flying over the steps.

     We could not see the tree because of its location in a bay window on the side of the house.  The bay window was the perfect place to showcase the Christmas tree.  With windows on 3 sides, we could close any of the blinds at night or open them for anyone outside to see.  The windows were almost floor to ceiling.  The wooden platform that the Christmas tree sat on fit perfectly into the bay window area on two saw horses.  The platform was then covered with paper that resembled a brick wall, typical of the paper of those times. 

    One Christmas morning was a bit different from the others.  This is the Christmas morning I remember with the most fond memories.  This is the Christmas morning that I overlooked the presents while dashing down the staircase to find the most gorgeous train ever under our Christmas tree.  It had  a pink engine that puffed little poofs of smoke!  The coal car was lavender, box cars were yellow and aqua, a passenger car was dark pink, and the caboose was blue!  Perfect pastel colors for girls.  I had never seen anything quite like this.  None of my other girlfriends had anything like this under their Christmas trees.  Wait until they saw this! 

    Dad let my sisters and me take turns dropping  the little pill into the engine to ignite the puffs of smoke.  Oh, it was just the most fascinating train I had ever seen, or would ever see again!  I would sit for hours and just watch the most beautifully colored train run round and round under our Christmas tree – puffing and tooting.  

    Years later, after I was married and moved several times during my career, at Christmastime my thoughts returned to my childhood home and the Lionel Girls Train.  I wondered what had happened to the train set.   My folks sold the train set after they sold their three story home and moved to an apartment after all three daughters married and moved to their own homes.  I don’t know who bought the train set, but they are very lucky people.  I hope they have taken good care of this exquisite Christmas treasure.    

    In 1957, the Lionel train company decided to produce a train set for girls.  The original set cost $49.95 so that was quite a big outlay of cash for my parents at the time.   I am more than grateful that they purchased such a wonderful memory.  Today that same train set may be worth several thousand dollars.  That’s okay.  Time and time again, when Christmas rolls around, nobody can take away the memory of waiting for the signal to run down the stairs, be surprised at the wonderful train set under the Christmas tree and remember all the puffs and pastel colors of that beautiful train set.   Those memories are priceless.    

A Girl Friend's Getaway at The Nutcracker Market

    For months, Linda and I anticipated the Houston Ballet’s Nutcracker Market, one of the largest Christmas markets in the United States.  Held every November, vendors from all over the country bring their best items to sell.  By mid-November,  our waiting came to an end.

    Both of us packed enough clothes to last a week, although we were only staying a few days.   We had sufficient food and drink items to sustain us for the almost direct route from San Antonio to Houston, TX on I-10, a quick 3 hour drive by car.  Traffic was not a problem, so we arrived ready to shop.  We didn’t bother unpacking our luggage, we wanted to shop, so we requested a taxi, which proved to be the most expedient way to arrive at the event center. 

    Upon arrival, we entered the Wells Fargo Event Center doors,  and our mouths dropped.  We looked at each other and our eyes just widened in sheer anticipation.  As far as the eye could see, north, south, east, west – were vendor booths, nutcracker signs directing us this way or that, food signs, bar signs, it was amazing.  Linda decided that she would look at an ornament booth as one particular ornament caught her eye.  It was a good thing that she purchased the item, as it was no longer available after she bought it! 

    I placed a quick telephone call, and a few minutes later, three members of the Quacker Factory (clothing line) Design Team and a guest, met us at the front of the event.  We had fun discussing what to do, where to go, and which aisles were less crowded.  It is always nice to meet “seasoned pros” at such a shopping extravaganza.  Thank you to Susan Bramley, Leslie McKeough Barham, Colleen Quinn Ginsberg for the photo and to Leslie’s Mom, Linda, for meeting us.  Your seasoned advice was helpful as we navigated through the aisles of fantastic shopping!

(Susan, Leslie, Karen, Linda)

    We were still awed at the size of the swags and beautiful wreaths adorning so many of the booths.  The prices were quite high, and we wondered who would buy these glorious decorations – probably businesses or those living in mansions, because they were far too large for a normal mantel or home.  But somebody was buying them!  After about 6 hours of shopping on Day 1, we decided it was time to have a nice dinner and relax for Friday’s main event – the Macy’s fashion show. 

   Friday morning we called a taxi and arrived early at the event center.  Upon arrival, we were surprised to see so many ladies in a huge line waiting to either purchase their daily ticket or enter the show.  As we already had our tickets, we were permitted to immediately enter the shopping area.  It was nice to walk up and down uncrowded aisles this time.  We were able to view many of the booths we had not seen earlier, noting those we wanted to return to.  Tasting every food item that was offered to us, it was difficult to decide which ones to buy, but we bought a few goodies. 

    At 10:30, we were called upstairs to one of the ballrooms for the Macy’s fashion show.  The room was beautifully and tastefully decorated.  The tables had a little Macy’s gift bag at each place setting.  The appetizer dish and dessert dish were already set out.  It was hard not to sample the dessert!  Wine was opened by the wait staff and everybody toasted each other at our table.  The hawaiian chicken entree was served and the fashion show began.   

    The runway was designed in a zigzag pattern, so that everyone’s tables at the sold out event had a chance to see the models, both male and female.  Even a miniature poodle was dressed and scampered along the runway.  The models smiled the entire time which was a nice touch from what one sees on television.  The fashions were appropriate for all sized women.  And the fashion colors were gorgeous!  Of course the music was pop and I was ready to get up on the stage and dance along! 

    More shopping ensued after the luncheon, so by late evening, we decided that we had probably seen and purchased those things that we wanted.  Friday’s crowd was extremely heavy, so we made a plan to return in 2015 and how to maneuver the event center.  The mimosas were a nice break in the afternoon and we will always have our nutcracker collector’s glass to remind us of a special weekend.

    Time and time again when November rolls around, when Christmas markets begin, when I see the word “nutcracker” advertised in newspapers and brochures, I will remember the fantastic weekend Linda Leonard and I shared getting to know each other better.  We learned that we travel well together; we like the same food; we enjoyed the same decorations; we learned more about each other; and our friendship became stronger.   The Nutcracker Market has become our November tradition and I can hardly wait for it to come around again. 

   

   

   

    

Life Savors

    Life has many precious moments.  Times that make us relish each moment and “savor” every morsel of memory like a fine wine, a delicious cheesecake, or a plate of escargot.  These are times when we look back and remember events, people, or situations from our past,  or perhaps recognize something that happened recently.  We recall them with a smile, with joy, with sorrow sometimes, but always with heartfelt comfort, at least I do.  Here is a list of “life savors” that warm my heart. 

    Arriving home after a trip of any length.  Home always looks best!

    Clean sheets any time – the smell, the feel, it’s just the most relaxing, comfortable way to fall asleep.

    Receiving an unexpected call/card/email from someone you haven’t heard from in awhile.  What an unexpected delight!

    Watching kittens or puppies roll around and play with each other – priceless!

    Enjoying a sunset or sunrise from your kitchen window or front porch as the colors change from pale to vibrant and then back to pale shades – the palettes are endless.

    Hugs and "I love you's" -  they are seasonless, and always welcome.

    Flipping channels on your television, finding a favorite movie is about to begin and you have several hours to just sit and enjoy.

    No plans for the day but to get comfortable in your favorite chair, with a favorite beverage and read that book you’ve been dying to start.

    Knowing that if you ask for prayer, you have an uncountable number of “friends”, thanks to the new social medias.

    Dining out and selecting the most sinful dessert - enjoying every mouthful of it, without guilt.

    Finding that perfect little gift for someone, even when it’s not their birthday or anniversary, just because you like them.

    Finding flowers from your husband,  partner, significant other in the house when you return – “just because”.

    Sitting on the front steps, porch, or patio and looking up at the sky, searching the clouds and imagining you see faces, creating characters and stories, like we did as children.

    Old photographs – letting precious memories wash over you and if tears bath your cheeks, let them flow. 

    Attending a wedding and waiting for the “I do” – then feeling your spouse squeeze your hand and smile at you.

    Waiting for an important diagnostic or final test result, then hear the doctor say, “Negative” or “benign”, or “all is well”.

    Raindrops on a metal roof – very soothing – raindrops any time here in Texas!

    Remembering past seasons that are special to me  - particularly my annual fall girl’s parties and all the fun and friendships we've shared.

    Thinking of dear friends, far away, and reliving wonderful adventures with them that are forever etched in the pages of my memory book.

    Receiving a text photo from my niece or sister-in-law regarding our great-nephew who is just precious; seeing his wonderful little smile and wave.  How I wish I could reach through the mobile phone and touch his sweet face.

    Knowing that I live in a free country and can do whatever I want, whenever I want – what a wonderful feeling!

    Having your name announced (individually, or in a group) as a champion, winning first place.  I remember when my high school band was awarded first place in a Cavalcade of Bands competition – what a great feeling that all of our hard work paid off.  I will never forget that feeling as long as I live. 

    Retirement day – all the years of working, moving across country/world, competing for  promotions, work experience, skill sets, team work, recruiting, everything I worked for culminated in one special day where I received many accolades that made me proud.  The government has a special ceremony and luncheon with a set protocol which honors the retiree, their spouse and family.  I’m sure everyone must feel this way after a lifetime of hard work.  Kudos to all retirees!

    Time and time again as I think about those things that bring me peace, comfort, joy and happiness, I will savor those special times and people.   I’m sure you have special life savors, as well.  I would love to know what moments you savor in life. 

   

    

Officially Fall

             

    The beginning of fall has to be my favorite time of the year, with Thanksgiving running a close second, and Christmas is third.   The official start of fall, the autumnal equinox - when mornings are a bit cooler, daylight hours are a little shorter, and evenings definitely grow dark faster.  But here in South Central Texas, the fall skies are magnificent – like a skein of variegated yarn.  The setting sun flings her colors across the sky and the resulting palette is one of magnificent pinks and blues and purples and oranges. 

    I have professed a fondness for fall for many years.  Growing up on the East Coast (PA), I loved the autumnal activities that were prevalent each September, October and November.  Fondly I remember the hayrides, the huge pumpkin patches where you would select your pumpkins, not go to a grocery store and buy one from a large box as I do now.  Haystacks in the farmer’s fields were man-made with pitchforks, not baled in barrels by machine.  Corn mazes, hot apple cider, hayrides, Halloween, trick or treating, pumpkin pie, the “harvest” - all connote happy memories of past falls.   

    I’ve been waiting all summer for the stores to display their fall ware so that I could start to search for just the right items for my home decorations.  I’m not a decorator, by any means, but the colors of fall do lend themselves to be easily mixed and matched.  And there are so many different hues of pumpkins now – deep oranges, greens, yellows, blues, even white.  The possibilities are endless when setting a dining room table or decorating a front porch.

    And of course, there is my “fall” tree.  It would not be fall without my decorated tree in the foyer where it glows with its gold lights, garlanded in leaves, draped in crystal ornaments, sparkly acorns,  and colored balls in celery, copper and gold hues.   Just seeing the tree at night with the glowing lights makes me feel warm and cozy.  My fall tree has become a tradition and one that my friends request.

    This year I found a little wooden wheelbarrow which I used on the front porch and added that to the ever-growing collection of fall décor.  Of course, there are some items that are not re-used.  These are donated to an assisted living facility where the residents can enjoy the items and use them as they choose.

    Mornings are crisp, just like the bite of a Macintosh apple.  Afternoons are warm, yet the evenings are beginning to cool down and it is a great time to sit on the porch swing or take an evening stroll. 

    Because the fall season lasts for several months, I look forward to all the craft fairs, church bazaars, country peddler shows which sell fall items.  The neighbor’s children knock on the door and ask us to purchase pies for their class project.  Other friend’s grandchildren ask us to purchase candy.  Traditions.

    I think that is what fall means the most to me – traditions.  Time and time again, as the calendar rolls around to the first day of fall, I think back to all the fall memories that I have.  Oh, I can’t forget the football games with my Dad, my high school marching band cavalcades, ginger snap cookies, and pumpkins.  Did I mention pumpkins?   And then I will anticipate my second favorite time of the year, Thanksgiving.  After all, it is part of fall.  

   

Meeting Dan Aykroyd

    People, friends, acquaintances, ask me, “What do you do in your retirement?  What do you do all day?”   Well, a variety of things.  My options are open.  Opportunities are everywhere, should I choose to avail myself.

    One day several years ago, my husband, Jay, and I read an article in our local newspaper,  that one of our favorite actors/comedians, Dan Aykroyd, was coming to San Antonio to introduce his new vodka, Crystal Head .  Folks were invited to a large liquor distributor’s location for a “meet and greet”.  Sounded like fun – interesting – why not?

    When we arrived, we found the store was at the end of a strip mall.  Even though there was a large parking lot, vacant spaces to park were  limited.  There was more than two hours until the guest of honor even appeared!  We found a parking spot, and walked across the lot to a line that had already stated to “queue” on the covered sidewalk outside the shops.  The standing room only line snaked back around and then into the parking lot.  Police officers had taped off areas where people could stand without worrying about getting hit by cars.  The line was quite long – very long. 

    While waiting for Mr. Aykroyd’s appearance, we enjoyed looking at those in the crowd.  Many wore “Blues Brothers” attire, or “Ghostbuster” gear, t-shirts with associated photos, and anything related to those movies.  Of course, we could have dressed in costume, but in April, it was already starting to be in the 80s, so we decided to dress in our normal clothes.

    The Crystal Head Vodka bus had arrived and was parked at the end of the strip mall.  Most of the security detail and police were getting photos with Dan, so it was difficult for anyone in the queue to get out of line and try to obtain a personal photo.  That’s okay, we thought, we will see him inside.

    Well, as the two hour period for his appearance inside kept getting shorter and shorter, and the line was still long, I wondered if we would actually get to even “see” Dan.  Fortunately, as the time continued to pass, the line moved, and we were almost at the table where Dan was seated.

    Dan was sitting in the middle of a table, and it appeared that it was a bit inconvenient for both him and the attendees to reach across the table to shake hands and then attempt a photograph.  Dan would have to lean far over the table.  Right before our turn to meet Dan, he decided it was time to stretch his legs, get out from behind the table, and meet the people as they came to shake his hand.  Of course, this probably concerned his security detail, but there weren’t any problems.

    My turn came, and I showed Dan a photograph of our “Jake and Elwood”, our two Belgian Malanois dogs that we had named after the characters in “The Blues Brothers”.  Dan was quite delighted and asked if he could sign the photograph.   “Yes, please!”   I was thrilled! He signed his name with the same silver pen he used to sign the vodka bottles.  Then I got my personal photograph – I was one happy girl!  I also got a quick photo with Jay and Dan and one with the three of us. 

    The afternoon had been a success:  we met Dan Aykroyd, he signed our dog picture (which now is framed and in a prominent spot on our bar), we had photographs with Dan, and we bought his Crystal Head Vodka (which he signed), both for ourselves and one for a friend. 

    Time and time again when people ask me what I do in retirement, I reply “many things”.  I enjoy reading, writing this blog, catching up with friends on social media, antiquing, meeting girlfriends at reunions in other cities and states, traveling with my husband, lunching/shopping with girlfriends, walking, zumba, bunco. 

   Then there are the everyday things that make retirement unique:  waking up whenever you feel like it; enjoying a matinee movie; wearing PJs all morning while you watch old black and white murder mysteries on the television; running errands whenever you want; cleaning projects (like cupboards) that you promised yourself to do after you retire or just being spontaneous and doing whatever life offers.     

    The possibilities in retirement are endless.  There are so many opportunities.  You just have to decide what you want to do and do it – like meet a special actor on a hot, San Antonio afternoon.  It just may be the most exciting adventure you’ve had all day. 

    

Wacky Wednesday

    If there is such a thing as “wacky Wednesday”, it happened at our house early this morning, around 12:15am.  I was awakened by the sound of my husband yelling from somewhere in the house.  First I heard, “Karen, get up and find Harley!  Shut the bedroom door!”  So I did.  I held Harley while Jay proceeded to run around the kitchen or hallway to the living room with a large pole.

    He yelled through the bedroom door that a raccoon had breached the cat door in the garage and then entered the house through the cat door in the utility room.  The raccoon then proceeded into the house where it ran around every room like a crazed fool.  It awakened Jay who had dozed off while reading in his recliner.

    The raccoon proceeded to jump on furniture and hit the cabinet holding our flat screen TV, knocking over my candy dish from Canada, a prized possession that I hand-carried in my purse from our cruise to New England and Canada last fall.  The candy dish was now in a thousand tiny pieces.  It could never be glued together.

    

     Next Jay was running from room to room, chasing the wily critter opening doors to the outside, hoping that it would run to freedom.  Alas, the raccoon wasn’t that smart.  It kept running to other rooms, and Jay would hear things falling or smashing.  Oh, no – now what?!

    Finally it was my time to come out of the bedroom and grab an old inch thick yard stick that was fairly sturdy, which I intended to use as my weapon.  The raccoon decided to dive behind the antique victrola in the dining room and smashed all the cobalt blue vases and bottles that were sitting on top of that piece of furniture.  My collection of beautiful blue ware was gone in a few seconds! 

    Jay prodded the animal who insisted it was going to climb up the back of the victrola and escape over the top.  But the raccoon was too heavy and would slide back down.  By this time, I had moved the couch to a position to block any movement of the animal into the living room, so that it’s only escape route was through the front door.  Jay had moved the dining room table and chairs in such a way as to provide a path as well.  But no!  The animal flew through the legs of one of the chairs and proceeded into the hallway to the back rooms of the house!

    We ran after the raccoon just as it managed to gets its fat body under the computer cabinet.  Jay moved the recliner and other chairs in that room to give the animal plenty of room to exit.  We also grabbed several pieces of luggage that we had not yet stored away in our closet from a recent trip and  built a wall in the hallway.  By blocking the path now from the computer room to the rest of the house, the animal could only go into the guest bathroom and out a door that led to the outside and the lawn. 

    Both of us were concerned about getting attacked or bitten since we had very large objects that prodded the raccoon or were going to use it as weapons, if necessary.  But we didn’t have to worry about that.  The raccoon was as scared as we were.  It finally hit the luggage wall, made a quick right through the guest bathroom and out the door to freedom!

    We caught our collective breaths after I slammed the door shut and just shook our heads for several minutes.  I was concerned about Jay’s breathing with the loss of most of his right lung.  He had done most of the chasing, prodding and yelling.

    I kept apologizing because it was, after all, my fault, as I was negligent in ensuring that the garage cat door was properly locked.  I thought it was, but the lever was not completely in the proper position to the left.  An animal could not leave the garage, but could get in.   I told Jay that the broken items could be replaced, and that no major damage was done.  We were not bitten, nothing was ripped, but we did spend another hour sweeping glass, vacuuming and putting the furniture back in its place.

    By 1am we were both exhausted, and wide awake, so we decided to watch a television show that we had taped.  After that show, we both were ready to sleep.  Thank goodness neither of us had any early morning commitments.

    Time and time again when I look out at night and see a raccoon in the yard, it will no longer be with a compassionate spirit.  Next time, the trap will be set and the raccoon had better watch out.  We'll be waiting.....

My Little Chickadee

    She used to call me “my little chickadee”.  When I was in early grammar school, I was in a musical where each child was some type of bird.  I was a chickadee and the name lovingly stayed.  For years, my Mom called me her “little chickadee”.  Over the years, I often thought of that, especially around Mother’s Day as I remembered times we shared.

    Our elementary school was just a few blocks from our house, but my Mom stood at our front door and watched me cross the street and walk down the block until she couldn’t see me.  This was an every day routine.  I would turn around and see her standing at the door waving to me.  What a comforting sight to know that somebody was watching out for me.

    Mom was a morning person and she passed that trait on to me.  She would come in to my room to wake me up for school each morning with a smile on her face and a lilt in her voice.  Never a grunt or a yell to “get up!”.  No, it was a “good morning, time to get up”.  Very gentle, very soothing.  And I’ve been the same way.  Thank goodness I married another morning person. 

    One day I came home from high school and my room was completely re-done.  By that I mean, it was painted a gorgeous light peach color on all the walls, the woodwork and window trims were pearl white, and I had a new multi-shade shag carpet of oranges and yellows and greens.  Oh, I was in heaven!  It was a beautiful room!  And I had a new bedspread with an orange and white and yellow flowered pattern and curtains to match.  It went beautifully with my French provincial furniture.  When the sunlight entered my room, I couldn’t  feel anything but happy and safe and vibrant.  I couldn’t stop thanking Mom for weeks.

    Our family called Mom “the happy hooker” because she decided to learn how to hook rugs and became proficient at that.  When I moved from Maryland to Texas, Mom had just had foot surgery.  To relieve her mind that I was moving to a good place, Dad decided it might be fun for her to drive along with me, so Mom could see where I was going to live.  It also was company for me.  We had quite an adventure, as Mom had a major migraine headache the night before we left Maryland.  Fortunately, I was able to contact my family doctor, who, at that time, still made house calls.  The following morning,  Mom was fine and we packed her casted foot and hooking yarns in my 1970 Mustang fastback, and off we went.

    Stopping for breakfast in any southern state was interesting as neither of us had ever had “grits” and we decided it just wasn’t our choice of a breakfast food.  But at least we tried!  And everyone who served us at restaurants was so friendly and wanted to chat.  We got called “honey” or “sweetheart” more times than we could count.

    Mom added extra phrases to any holiday or special event card, like a birthday or anniversary, always underlining special words and adding exclamation points.  I guess that’s why I use exclamation points so often….She never ended a phone conversation without an “I love you” and “God bless you”. 

    One of my favorite pictures of Mom and me was taken a few years ago at the Coventry Tea Room near Pottstown, PA.  I don’t think this cute little restaurant is open now, but we enjoyed the ambience, service and the delicious food.  And more, just the two of us when I was able to travel from Texas to PA.  Just a lunch with me and my Mom.

    Mom will be 89 years old this August.  I know she doesn’t know how to use a computer or an iPad, or facebook, so I will send her a copy of this so she can read it whenever it arrives by snail mail.  And that’s okay.  Time and Time Again, whenever she chooses to read it, she will think of me and show it to one of her friends, and say, “this is from my little chickadee”. 

        

    

Cat-Astrophic Change of Heart

    It only took a few seconds, and it only took one look.  Love at first sight wasn’t an emotion I had planned to experience, not with a cat.  Having grown up in a family that appreciated the canine species, felines just weren’t around.  Even when dating, I found myself categorized as either a cat or dog “lover”.  Usually I dated dog lovers, because if I didn’t espouse a profound adoration for cats, I wasn’t asked out on a second date by a cat lover.

    I wasn’t planning on having a change of heart.  Sometimes it happens when you are least prepared.

    I traveled frequently in my government position.  It seemed each time I was gone, my husband Jay would “find” a pet.  On one trip to California, I received a phone call that Jay had “found” two puppies, well, not actually puppies, on Lackland AFB, Texas, where he worked.  After checking with the base veterinarian, the security police who trained dogs, and advertising for an owner, no one claimed the dogs, so Jay did.  Wanting a security dog for our new home in the country, Jake and Elwood, fully grown and spunky Belgian Malamois mix, with loud barking to scare off any type of burglar or sometimes the UPS delivery man, became part of our family.

    On my next trip a few months later, the phone was ringing when I returned to my hotel room.  (Cell phones were NOT the usual mode of communication at that time). 

    “Hi,” Jay said.  “Guess what?  I found a kitten for you”!  Jay blurted out as soon as he heard my voice.

    “A kitten for me?”  I was incredulous.  For years he had wanted a cat and I had objected, never having owned one.

    “You’ll love her.  She’s about six weeks old, gray with black and white stripes, and an orange streak across her face,” he described.  All I could envision was a smelly house, an opened can of cat food in the refrigerator, and cat hair covering our furniture.

    “You know I’m not exactly thrilled,” I replied.  My younger sister had been allergic to cat hair when she was little, so that was another reason I had not grown up with cats. 

    “Don’t worry, she’s a wild cat and will stay outside.  No hair on the furniture, and no smelly litter box.  You’ll like her, Dear,” he added.  I could only imagine the twinkle in his eye, even through the telephone line.

    When I arrived home from my trip, Jake and Elwood were waiting with wagging tails to greet me.  As I was petting them, I noticed a little ball of gray fluff curled on the dining room window sill.  As I slowly approached, I realized this was “the cat”.  I had to admit, she was cute.  And her color was distinctive.   She allowed me to walk within three feet of her, but not close enough to touch.  Talking softly to her, I tried to calm her because I knew she was in unfamiliar surroundings.

    As I approached closer, she bolted from the window sill, ran across the front porch, and scampered off into the woods.

    “I just saw the kitten”, I told Jay when I entered the house.  “She is rather cute,” I conceded.

    “Wait until you see her up close.”  He had had that opportunity because she bit his hand when he captured her to bring her home.  She had been born in the gutters of a two-story  military building, but had fallen down one of the rainspouts and was unable to re-connect with her mother.  So Jay scooped her up and brought her home.

    “Up close” was the next day when I found the kitten wandering aimlessly around the patio. “Come here, kitty,” I coaxed.  “Let me check you out.”  Surprisingly, she walked directly towards me.  Inexperienced as I was with cats, I picked her up and held her like a newborn baby.  Only later did I learn how secure she felt in my arms since cats are known for not putting themselves in an indefensible position. 

    I stroked her cute little face with my index finger and then scratched behind her ears.  A little pink tongue licked my hand.  I looked her straight in her emerald green eyes at the exact moment she looked into mine.  That’s all it took – one look.  We became best friends, mom and child, companions.  I named her “TC” for “the cat”.

    I worried about TC as if she were my own child.  When she was injured by an animal in the woods, I rushed her to the veterinarian.  The doctor decided to keep her overnight for observation.  I was crushed and sobbed most of the drive home.  When “TC” had her “hysterectomy”, guess who took off a day from work to care for her?  I followed her with a folder blanket in case she wobbled over when she tried to walk.  I wanted to ensure she had a soft landing.  Her inability to walk properly was due to the anesthetic.   Playing doting mother all day, I held her in my lap and rocked her to sleep in our rocker.  I don’t know if it helped TC, but I know I felt much better!

    TC and I had our daily routines.  When I entered the house after work, I called out, “Is there a kitty-cat in here”?  Within seconds, TC would come bounding out from wherever she was in the house or appear at the patio door.  TC was considered an indoor/outdoor cat, so no inside litter box was required.  She often brought me presents of her affection and skill as a hunter, like baby bunnies and birds.

    Once the ice was broken, there was no stopping us in our rescue of the feline community.  One day we were dining at an outside restaurant in Gruene, Texas.  State government laws prevent having too many wild cats eating on a restaurant patio, so the owner telephoned us when she recognized a gorgeous little black and white cat that we had noticed a week before.  “Asta” was truly an outdoor cat, at first, but after some coaxing with “mom”, and then dad, she truly became a tame feline. 

    Asta got pregnant a few months after living with us, and I would hold her in my lap at night and feel the little babies movies.  “Chevy” and “Chase” were born a few months later and when she took them into the woods to teach them survival techniques, my heart was broken.  I thought I would never see them again.  But one day, she carried them into our house by the scruff of their necks and tried to set up a household under our bed to nurse them.

Asta, our little "mommy"

Chevy on left, Chase on right

    All of the cats got along, surprisingly since they were from different litters.  Thinking four felines was sufficient for any family,  I didn’t intend to find three black/white sisters at a local petshop.  I called Jay to ask if I could pick out one, as the black and white theme was prevalent with our cats.  His reply was, why not bring all three?  The more, the merrier.  So that’s how we adopted Duchess, Princess and Milady. 

    TC passed away of the feline leukemia disease after many wonderful years.  One by one, over the years, they started to go to the Rainbow Bridge.  Two wandered off and we never saw them again.  One had a cancerous tumor.  Hopefully someone who loved them as much as we did adopted them.  Chase, the largest male, lived to be 17 years old.  All of our family were neutered and fully adopted with annual check-ups and the best of care. 

    When the last of the original Johnson 7 had gone, we got lonely.  The process of adopting more began and has continued ever since, mostly two at a time.  Nigel and Basil (two adorable little guys) lasted only 7 weeks due to the deadly feline virus  that they haven’t found a cure for nor test for when one adopts.  Two more girls, Claire and Maddy,  then our Harley, love of our lives. 

    Not everyone will have a catastrophic change of heart.  But time and time again, whenever we visit a pet store, see kittens on social media, or just enjoy watching our five ferals, I know my heart made the right decision and I’ve never regretted the change of heart for one minute.

A January Baby and Super Bowl Sunday

        I was supposed to be the boy in the family.  The second of two girls, my parents were hoping for a boy to even out the two children, but  they were happy, just the same.  Eventually they had three girls, so poor Dad had to deal with four women in the household!  When my younger sister was about 7, we adopted a puppy, male, of course, so Dad had at least one “son”.

    Although I don’t think I exhibited many tomboyish tendencies, I did enjoy running and jumping and playing outside.  My scarred knees can vouch for the many times I scraped them after falling down on cement pavements from roller skating over rough sidewalks or jumping off when I’d hit an uneven spot on the pogo stick.  One hundred and thirty-seven was the highest number of jumps on the pogo stick and I was quite proud. 

    On Sunday afternoons when Mom was working her 4-12pm shift at the Diamond Glass Co., I would work on my homework in the living room with Dad as he watched his beloved Eagles football team.  Due to his explanations of the game, the team’s plays, and basically just osmosis, I learned about professional football. 

    But the football  fun didn’t stop at home.  After I graduated from college and moved with my government job to Texas, I tried to be a good Eagles fan, but it was quite difficult.  Moving to the great state of Texas, one was either (at that time) a Houston Oilers fan or a Dallas Cowboys fan.  Most of my friends and colleagues were Cowboy fans, and it was the heyday of the Cowboys, so you can see where my loyalty moved.  On the Sundays when the Cowboys would play the Eagles, Dad and I would take turns  calling each other long distance and make a slight wager on the game.   Usually it was a $1 scratch-off lottery ticket. 

    Whenever my parents would visit my husband and me in Virginia or Texas, after returning from the airport, we would discover some Eagles item in the house, like an Eagles refrigerator magnet.  After my husband and I returned from visiting my parents, we found Eagles cocktail napkins in our luggage.  So you can see the fun rivalry we played.  And we returned the favor leaving Cowboys can openers or luggage tags or calendars somewhere at their house or in their luggage. 

    When Dad began to suffer his mini-heart attacks and Alzheimers was setting in, he was hospitalized at the Coatesville Veterans Hospital, in Pennsylvania.  He no longer had verbal  communication skills.   I visited him on several occasions, but he had problems recognizing me, until I started to talk about football.  Then his eyes would light up and he would squeeze my hand and we’d make a bet.  He couldn’t speak, but his eyes, oh, how his eyes brightened and I knew he knew who I was and what we were talking about.  And those few minutes I treasure. 

   As it happened, I visited him one Sunday when the Eagles were playing at the old Veterans Stadium, and I just talked and talked endlessly about the game and watched Dad, and he kept squeezing my hand whenever I made a funny remark.  A daughter just knows that she’s connecting with her Dad.

   When we got the phone call in April of that year that Dad had passed away, I thought my world was collapsing.  I knew he was dying, but this man was supposed to live for years and be around  and watch me grow old, too.  Jay and I were at the airport in Houston, TX, waiting to board the connecting flight to PA for the funeral.  An announcement was made for Randall Cunningham to come to the gate.  My ears perked up of course, and I said to my husband, “Jay, did they really just call for Randall Cunningham to come to this gate?  Is he on our plane”?  Jay thought he heard the same announcement but we never did see the Eagles quarterback. 

    Because of a mechanical problem with our connecting aircraft, our flight was delayed and we were just despondent because we wanted to return to PA as soon as possible.  The airline staff was aware of  our situation and although they couldn’t re-schedule our flight, they upgraded our seats to first class.  After settling in, I was just about to finally relax a bit, when this big, tall, black athlete, with sunglasses and earphones walks into first class.  And guess who it was?  Randall Cunningham! 

    Now you have to understand that Dad was an Eagles season ticket holder for many years and Randall was his quarterback.  My mouth dropped open and I asked the flight attendant if that was really Randall.  She replied, “Yes, it is and he just signed a napkin for me”.  My husband told her of our situation and how much my Dad liked Randall and she said, “Wait, I’ll see what I can do”.   A few minutes later she returned with a cocktail napkin, signed “To Bill Randall – Best Wishes, Randall Cunningham”.  I had held back tears for two days before we could make the trip, but the dam burst when I was handed that napkin which I still have.  We later learned that Randall Cunningham was in Houston for a celebrity golf tournament  sponsored by Warren Moon, his friend and another quarterback.  The tournament was for a special charity that Warren supported.  

    And then there was the Cowboy magnet that Dad had in his casket.  But he didn’t know it.  I asked the funeral director, a family friend, if we could be alone with my Dad for a new minutes since the rest of the family had been with Dad before we arrived.  I slipped a Cowboy magnet into Dad’s coat pocket  after telling the funeral director about our football rivalry which he thought was very touching.  And when I told Mom, she cried and thought it was very special.    

    To this day, only a few folks know the story of the “Cowboys All the Way” Super Bowl magnet in Dad’s pocket.  Of course, the Cowboys won the Super Bowl that year, so it just seemed appropriate.  Dad now has the best seat in the house for any Super Bowl game. 

    Time and time again, when January rolls around, I think of my Dad, because January is his birth month.  He would have been 89 this year and still an Eagles fan, I’m certain.  Every February, when Super Bowl Sunday arrives, my thoughts go back to all the innumerable Sundays that we spent talking about football, making bets, and continuing our rivalry.    Whoever wins the Super Bowl is inconsequential.  My Dad and our shared love of football will always be a winning combination.