Thursday, November 17, 2022

Scrunchies, Memories, Funerals

 So, young Kate and Joey; your great granny got Covid. You'll probably learn about this virus in your history books when you go to school. It's a real thing, (regardless of how it's recorded in your text books) and it makes you very tired. And it causes your taste buds to go all wonky; in my case everything I ate for two weeks tasted bitter. Of course there was the head-ache from hell, and crippling body ache. But I'm on the mend. Pretty sure I'm not gonna die of this. (But 6 million people HAVE died. No one I know personally, but that doesn't make it any less true.) 

The best part of Covid? (At least for me?) Was all the love that showed up unexpectedly at my door in the form of homemade soups, packages of Tylenol, bananas and apple juice. (And Oh Henry chocolate bars.) Bucket loads and plastic bags of kindness from friends. It was overwhelming. I just bawled. Kate and Joey? Make good friends. Be a good friend. ("Good" = kind, caring, thoughtful. Someone who walks alongside. Someone who asks, "How ya doin?" Someone who says, "How can I pray for you?" Someone who listens with their heart.)

I was back in the office on Tuesday, three weeks after the Covid bomb dropped on my head. And y'know what was waiting for me? A little cardboard box. With these things inside:

SCRUNCHIES and large hair clips!

From someone named Shelley (?) from Supercrush.

I sent this pic to Danica and she responded that those a great products - they sell them at her salon, Vivid Hair Boutique. 

I found a note:

.. and was flummoxed as to who Shelley from my childhood could be. Seeing she mentioned Nancy, I texted Nancy for help.


And of course I remember Shelby! She had FLAWLESS skin. And an amazing body. She was/is a couple years older than me, so as is the way of things, I admired her. And maybe a little in awe of someone who clearly didn't have the usual teen issues with acne or body insecurities. 

 I thought of her just the other night as I watching Ford vs Ferrari on Netflix. Legend has it that she was named after the Shelby Mustang. (I just spent way too long researching Carroll Shelby, car designer, to see when exactly that sexy car was released. Can't find much evidence it was in production when Shelby was born. Sigh. SUCH a good rumor that made total sense, seeing her dad was into car sales at the time. Maybe she was named after The Man, not The Car? Ugh.) I seem to remember her getting (or maybe just driving) a Shelby Mustang on/for her 16th birthday? I don't even know what's true anymore. 

I don't think I've seen or heard of Shelby since the late 70's... so this gift and note were a delightful, wonderful, surprise and gave me an unexpected trip back in time to the days of Killarney Park. 

Speaking of which, I work with two gals who attend KPMBC. I asked them how many folks attend an average Sunday morning service nowadays? A couple hundred? "Nooooo. More like 43? Maybe 57?"

They recently celebrated being 61. The church was chartered/born in 1961, so this is it's 61st year in existence. 



(I remember when they planted those trees.)

(The trouble with blogging is I go down rabbit holes to find pictoral support of the words I'm typing and before you know it, another hour has passed.)

These pics, (below) which I found through a google search, were taken by Clint Bargen. Who is a friend's (Sandra) relative and someone who works with MY Clint. The world is so, so small. I'm posting them here for the memories. 

Memories; (warning, this'll be a long ramble) Sunday School Programs on Christmas Eve and getting a brown lunch bag with treats as we left the stage, attending Sunday School (before the service) for about 15 years, then teaching Sunday School to Grade 2 boys, attending Pioneer Girls on Wednesday nights with friends, (and sometimes going to McDonalds for a snack on our way home), then leading the Girls Club Program for a couple years. Driving in from Surrey with friends to Vancouver for youth nights twice a week; once for Bible study, usually Wednesday nights, then a 'fun' night, usually on Fridays. Attending and serving pies at Pie Factory on Sunday nights. Having crushes on most boys older than me who weren't in the least bit interested. Singing hymns from the green hymnal with George leading, powerfully. Sitting in the very back row, on the right, with my fam because that's where the knobs were, and my dad was the sound guy. Moving to the left front rows when I was in grade 7 because that's where the Jr Youth sat; away from their families, carving their names in the pews and writing notes on the bulletins. 

The people who attended/led/served/taught at this church had a profound impact on who I am today. I was loved, invested in, challenged, encouraged and prayed for. This was my home church; I knew everyone. And they all knew me. I was baptized at age 17 in the tank behind the choir loft on a spring Sunday evening. Everyone in my extended family was there to cheer me on. 

I've attended at least half a dozen churches since. Good ones. Filled with amazing people. But I was at THIS one for 22 years. And it is very special to me. 

Thanks Brian, Doug, Brad for investing in me during my teens. 

Thanks, Krahn, Schmidt, Friesen, Giesbrecht, Krause, Janzen, Peters, Redekop (and all the other Menno named) families for all the camping trips, Palm Spring vacations, overnighters, parties, dinners, and time spent together. 

Where was I? 



Hair clips.



Shortly after John's death, and before I got Covid my (ex) (only?) mom-in-law passed away. She'd just turned 85 and seemed to slip away quickly after that. I was part of her family for 15 years, a quarter century ago. She introduced me to fresh cooked vegetables. I'd never seen a brussel sprout or an asparagus spear before 1983. And they were delish. She made the best lemon meringue pie and her chocolate chip cookies are the gold standard we compare all chocolate chip cookies to. She taught me how to make strawberry jam. I watched and listened to the way she was a mom to four boys. 

Her and I rarely/never talked about anything of importance. Until we did. (Which was just after Mark left.) She let me know she loved me. And her and Mike would be there to support me. And she was sorry for the way things were ending. 

I watched the private close-family-only service online during week two of my Covid experience. Cried through most of it, as I watched my kids enter and find seats. This is their family. This was their grandma. These are their uncles. Even though I've been out of the picture for 25 years, they haven't. The O's have shaped their world-view; their ideas about family, marriage, work, money, death, faith. 

It was a respectful, lovely service, reflective of her quiet yet strong character. 

Rest in Peace, MomO. 

(Did another google image search. When I typed in her name, I got a screenful of Mark. Wondering what my name would reveal, I googled it too. Again with the Mark stuff. Haha.)

Interesting (?) story? 

Back in the 60's (?) and 70's, my mom had a standing appointment, every Friday morning at 9 am at Raymond's Salon, located in the back corner of the second floor at Woodward's, Guildford. Her stylist was Kayala, (she was Hawaiian). After so many years of seeing each other, they talked about everything, including the woman who had an appointment immediately after my mom; she was a Langley Alderman's wife with 4 sons. She came in every Friday at 10 am. In 1983, after Mark and I got engaged, we all got together for dinner, me n Mark and our parents. My dad had checked out the O's years earlier by going to Langley Concrete and talking to Mike about his son. But our mom's hadn't met. EXCEPT THEY HAD. Every Friday at Raymond's salon. Haha. They'd pass each other leaving/arriving to Kayala's chair. :)

Years later, my mom and Fran had the same stylist again - Julie. And years after that? Danica. 

Kate? Joey? Are you still reading? 

That's your great great grandma on the O-side. 


Three Things I'm Thankful For:

1. I'm almost completely better. 

2. Surprise gifts. ALSO received this on my first day back to work. Thanks, Dede. 

3. This way to communicate with my future great grandchildren. 

4. Grateful that my dad and mom made 'going to church' a thing we did. 

Shalom, friends. 

Keep washing your hands, feeling your boobs, and telling your people you love them. 


No comments: