Janet's Blog

When I was just a baby, a neighbor gave me my very own bottle lamb.  Of course, I was too little to care for her, so the job of feeding her fell to Mom and Dad.  But, even so, she was my pet.  She was named Lola, after a popular song of that era, "Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets." Mom says that Lola provided support for me when I was first learning how to walk.  I don't remember that, of course.  When I think of Lola, I think of soft, white wool.  Dad took her back to our neighbor once or twice a year so her wooly coat could be sheared.  I still have a warm, purple paisley comforter that is filled with Lola's wool; in fact, we refer to the comforter as "Lola," too. We moved to town, into Norfolk, in December, a few months before I turned five.  I vaguely remember the farm sale, when neighbors came from miles around to buy all of the farm implements and livestock that we would no longer need.  The same neighbor, who had given Lola to me in the first pla

Fears and foibles--we all have them.  Some people are afraid of heights or bugs or storms.  Some people have little rituals they always follow, such as always loading the dishwasher the same way or reading the newspaper in a particular order.  So, I've been thinking.  What am I afraid of?  What little quirks or eccentricities do I have?  And why am I so hesitant to share this information with anyone? I'm mildly afraid of heights, especially over water, and I know the reason why:  When I was about ten, my family visited a new dam in Kansas.  It was a windy, spring day as we stood on top of the dam, gazing across the water far below.  Mom's scarf whipped in the wind, caught my glasses, and sent them flying down, down, into the water.  Dad suggested that some fish would probably wear them from then on.  I was not amused. I don't really like to touch bugs or snakes, but I'm not especially afraid of them. Unlike many people I know, I love almost everything ab

I don't see Toby as often as I would like, especially during the school year.  I'm hoping to see him more than once a week, now that summer is finally here.  I love to see his smile of recognition, and his big blue eyes watching me so intently when I talk to him. Holding him is a special pleasure, but I suspect that I'd better enjoy it while he's willing to be held, because he'll soon be wanting down to explore the world around him.  Babies grow up so fast! Technically, my education background, and my job as a public school preschool teacher, make me an early childhood specialist.  I can't help but keep track of  Toby's growth and development--it's what I do.  So, I'm well aware that he is growing and progressing normally for a four month old baby.  I'm always glad to answer any questions but, as his grandma, I try not to offer Meagan or Andy too many suggestions about parenting.  There's really no need, because they are doing a great jo

I visited the ranch for the first time when I was twelve.  My dad was in his teens when he first hunted there with his dad and brothers.  For them, hunting for deer and other game was a necessity that enabled them to feed their family.  For me, a visit to the ranch is a chance to vacation and to see some of my family, in the beautiful Pine Ridge area of northwestern Nebraska.  The ranch My great-uncle, Frank Vaughn, was a doctor in Gordon during the Great Depression.  Many of his patients paid their bills with livestock, rather than money, so Uncle Doc bought the ranch to provide a place to raise his cattle.  The ranch was also his place to get away from the cares of his life for a little while.  He gardened there, fixed fence, and cobbled together repairs on the houses and various outbuildings.  There were good reasons why he was destined to be a doctor, rather than a carpenter or a mechanic.  He's the only person I ever knew who repainted his aging pickup-- with a brush!