Janet's Blog

The Wounded Knee Creek flows right through the middle of the family ranch, which borders South Dakota to the north. The ranch, which is used by various extended family members for hunting and vacations, has been one of my favorite places ever since I visited there for the first time, nearly 60 years ago. Now, my grandchildren are the fifth generation of our family to explore everything the ranch has to offer, next to, over, and even in the Wounded Knee. As soon as we arrive, sleeping arrangements are negotiated--some in the main house, and others in the bunkhouse nearby. Then, the kids all beg to go down to the swing, hanging from a 150 year old Cottonwood tree that sits on the creek bank. On the Sunday afternoon before Memorial Day, Bill and I arrived a little earlier than the rest of our crew, so as soon as Bill turned on the electricity and primed the pump so the plumbing would work appropriately, we transferred the food from our cooler to the refrigerator, and headed down to the s...

I wasn't consciously afraid of snakes when I was young. I had seen a few garter snakes around the farm and, later, in our backyard, and I was usually curious enough to take a look at them--from a distance. But when I was about five or six, I started dreaming about snakes. Actually, they weren't dreams at all; they were full blown nightmares. Sometimes, when I was in that state of consciousness right between wakefulness and sleep, my mind would play tricks on me, and I was sure I saw snakes on the floor or in my brother's bed, across the room. The worst times, though, were when I dreamed of snakes in my bed. One night, everyone in the family was asleep when I woke up screaming. Dad rushed into our bedroom, clad only in his underwear, wondering what was the matter. When I cried out about the snakes in our room, he turned on the light to show me that there were no snakes, only Danny's socks lying on the floor next to his bed. I calmed down enough to go back to sleep that ...

My husband, Bill, has always been good at fixing things. Over the five decades of our marriage, he has rarely called for someone to fix something he is able to fix himself. That includes most plumbing repairs, even though he always reminds me, as he gathers up his plumbing tools, that he hates plumbing. Even as a young child, he was inquisitive and precocious, often taking things apart and constructing useful items from found objects. Bill's mother shared that he was a hard one to raise because he couldn't sit still, and was always into things. Over the years, he has repaired and constructed a variety of things, always working on some project or another. I guess there's a good reason he decided to become an electronic engineer. Have I mentioned that Bill holds several patents that have been widely used in the Cable TV and Internet industries? Both of our biological daughters have inherited their dad's ability to fix things around the house and work on significant home ...

Our floral couch sat in the living room for more than 25 years. We hadn't had it for too long when we celebrated November birthdays in 2000. That birthday party was special because it was Victoria's first birthday with us, her new forever family. She had lived in our house permanently for exactly one week. The couch was a perfect spot for a picture to commemorate the day. Bill's mother, Beth, was celebrating her 74th birthday that day, while Victoria was turning five years old, and Bill had just turned 46.  I remember going shopping for a new couch for the family room, sometime in the late 1990s. I didn't expect to be able to buy a new living room couch, too, but the furniture store was having a fantastic sale. So we bought a new couch for the family room, as we had intended, and a beautiful, floral couch for the living room—two for the price of one. That family room couch served us well, and was replaced at least a decade ago. The living room couch wasn't used near...

It was probably April when my daughter, Meagan, asked if I would be willing to help Evie edit and publish her book. Until that moment, I wasn't aware that 11-year-old Evelyn was writing a book, but I agreed to help her, just the same. All of Meagan and Andy's kids are homeschooled, and the four oldest kids are pretty good writers, hand-writing letters to various friends and relatives at least once a week in recent years. The best way to learn to write is just to do it often. So, Evie brought her Chromebook to my house at least once a week for the next few weeks. I sat next to her as we read her story together, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, chapter by chapter. I soon learned that Evie really knows how to tell a story! Her story was a riveting adventure tale that left me wondering what would happen next. Evie had decided, at the outset, to name and model some of her characters after her siblings and other friends and relatives. That makes the book extra special fo...

Lucy My granddaughter, Lucy, is almost two years old. She is an outgoing little girl who warms up to other people quite easily. Unlike most of Meagan and Andy's other kids, she actually enjoys staying in the church nursery while her Mom and Dad teach Sunday School. That is, she enjoys the nursery as long as her friend, Rose, is there, too. Rose is not quite four months older than Lucy. They have been sharing the nursery since they were both infants. Their relationship has not always been amicable. Lucy, as the youngest of six children, knows how to defend herself and protect her playthings from the other kids. It wasn't long before she taught Rose everything she knew about hitting and pushing to get her own way. So, when I was in the nursery with them, the offender had to sit on my lap for a brief time out until they both realized that there were better ways to get along. Now, both Lucy and Rose are speaking in sentences and using their words to express their wants and needs. B...

It was Tuesday morning. All six of Meagan's kids were at my house while she was working at the church. Victoria had come to help, as she usually does, so she can tend to the two youngest while I help the older ones with their homeschooling assignments and, eventually, make lunch for everyone. The older kids worked hard on the letters they were writing, so they finished quickly and moved on to building things and playing Minecraft in the family room. Three-year-old Ruthie came into the kitchen to paint a beautiful picture with watercolors, and Evie eventually joined her. The painting was done, and I was just starting to boil water for the macaroni and cheese when Aunt Victoria carried Ruthie back into the kitchen. Ruthie was near tears as she held out a small stuffed animal in one hand, and a stubby little leg in the other hand. All she said was, "It's b w oke!" As I took the moose and its leg from Ruthie's outstretched hands, I told her it was okay; I could fix it...