Labor Day on the Prairie

I’m not sure how it happened – but it seems like yesterday was mid-July and now Labor Day week-end is over!

And once again we filled it full of family and fun – spending the weekend at my parents with most of my extended family at our 27th Annual Labor Day celebration.

We now have three generations making memories on the Prairie (as the grandkids call Papa Jim and Nana’s place).

Three generations that include our Indy, who was a rock star at her first Labor Day celebration! It seems like just yesterday that my kids were the littles on the prairie – and now I’m the Nana introducing Indy the wonders of Great Papa and Great Nana’s house.

With the official count at 51 – we had tents and hammocks and cars everywhere!

So much laughter!

So much food!

So much fun!

So many old traditions to keep up, like Annie Annie Over, massive bonfires, s’mores, making Puppy Chow at midnight and playing Peanuts.

And the annual trek to The Rock, with Papa driving all the little’s in a wagon.

Since it was 45 Labor Day weekends ago that my parents moved us to the prairie, into the big old farmhouse they had moved in and that was not yet finished…

…we celebrated 45 years of memories watching old videos on a red neck movie theater on the lawn that the guys improvised by hanging a movie screen on some 2 X 4’s from the bucket of Uncle Delbert’s tractor.

It was a beautiful reminder of the legacy my parents have built.

A home full of love and memories.

A place of belonging that brings us back year after year.

A family that is bound together by laughter and tears.

We are truly blessed.

Photo credits go to my sister Sandy! I was so busy being Nana that I did not take a single picture all weekend!

Happy Belated Birthday, Poppa!

We gathered last weekend to celebrate Jan’s dad’s 89th birthday.

It was our third attempt.

We tried in both January and February – but were snowed out both times. We were almost afraid to try again – but thankfully the weather held and both the Minnesota and Chicago Shervheim’s were able to join us for a quick overnight and party.

it was quite the overnight as all three families camped out in the big house, in sleeping bags, surrounded by boxes and with little furniture. The four remaining chairs became a hot commodity, and we discovered that ice chests made great tables when sitting on the floor.

The actual birthday party was held in the Great Room at Poppa and Nana’s new Senior Living apartments, where there were actual chairs and tables!

We celebrated Poppa’s 89 years with cake and ice cream and pizza and presents.

And we listened to his stories.

Like the one when he was invited to Washington DC as an Eagle Scout and presented President Truman with a medallion and met J. Edgar Hoover.

His time working on the railroad.

His military years.

The first time he ate pistachios while stationed in Iran. (He still loves them!)

All our favorite stories.

Three generations together. Laughing, remembering, and celebrating.

Happy birthday, Poppa!

More Costumes, Less Screen

The furnace guy came to service the furnace the other day.

Which would normally be no big deal – unless you’re me and have a dozen Rubbermaid totes full of dress -up clothes stacked in front of it that needed to be moved for access.

Yep. A dozen. That’s not including hats.

I will admit that as I pushed and pulled them all out of the way – I wondered if maybe my dress-up clothes were getting a bit out of hand.

I felt guilty for a few minutes when I saw how nice the basement looked without my massive collection.

But then I saw a post on Instagram of two adorable kids running around the room in costumes with the caption “What kids need today is more costumes and less screen”.

I felt instantly and immensely better.

Kids do need costumes. Not necessarily store bought fancy ones – but just an odd assortment of cast-off clothing that we call “dress-up clothes”.

A pair of bib overalls. A shiny silver shirt. A vintage prom dress. Hot pink platform heels. A leather vest. A plastic sword. Fake fur.

That’s the raw material the imagination needs to create and explore!

Oh the wonders that are hidden in a box of dress-up clothes!

Some of my earliest memories are of playing dress-up with my siblings both at home and in Grandma Griner’s upstairs bedroom. We would each find our favorites and set up our imaginary worlds under the sloped eaves.

The rule at grandma’s house was always that the dress-up clothes stayed upstairs. But when my mom became a grandma, that rule went out the window!

At her house, the dress-up clothes could go upstairs, downstairs, and even outside.

The grandchildren have spent hundreds of hours playing with the dress-up clothes, putting on shows, acting out stories and creating their imaginary worlds all over! There were wagon trains through the trees, princess tea parties on the lawn, and pirate ships on the trailer.

It was not unusual for one of the kids to dig through the piles as soon as they arrived until they found their favorite article and then wear it the rest of the weekend.

As a young college student I worked in a Daycare with the school age children after school and summers. One of the first things I put into my class room was a foot locker full of dress-up clothes that we would pull out every Friday morning and make a show or a play to perform for the other classrooms.

That same foot locker came home with me when I become a mom and it slowly expanded.

My kids spent hours pretending and dressing up and making stories.

Those dress-up clothes really got used as soon as Matt discovered that our digital camera could record movies. Some of the things they created at that time are priceless!

They introduced many friends to the power of a box of dress-up clothes.

I vividly remember one of their friends riding down the driveway on a skateboard wearing a bridesmaid dress from my college days. I don’t remember who she was pretending to be, but the grin on her face and sparkle in her eyes told me she was having a wonderful time!

Those same totes of dress-up clothes have been used for countless skits in Valentine Banquets and VBS.

And now that a grand baby is on the way, I have another generation to teach about the wonders of dress-up clothes.

I want pirates and princesses and firemen and cowboys.

I want to find a sunbonnet in the swing and a wooden sword in the sand pile.

I want to hear “Grandma, we made a show! Come and see!” And I will sit in wonder watching yet another generation explore create and imagine.

And someday I want my grand kids are going to say, “Do you you remember playing dress-up at grandma’s? Boy that was fun!”

No, I don’t think I have a costume problem.

I have a costume heritage to uphold.

The buckets stay.

Minnesota Memories

We did it again!

Somehow in the midst of crazy fall schedules, all of our kids were able to join us for several days in the North woods of Minnesota.

Why does it seem almost miraculous to have everyone together?

It was a gift to be treasured.

We shared picnics with laughter.

Rainy days snuggled in the cabin playing games, eating like lumber jacks.

Long hikes that lead to incredible views.

Really incredible views!

Views so beautiful they took your breath away.

And made you praise the awesome God that created it.

Views made even more special because of the dear ones that shared it with us.

And the laughter we shared along the way.

Waterfalls.

Lake Superior.

Palisades.

Baptism River.

Tettegouche.

Mount Baldy.

The vibrant colors of fall becoming more pronounced with each new day.

Days so warm we could ride the waves on Lake Superior.

And mornings so cold we snuggled in our hoodies, sipping hot coffee.

Precious times.

And even more precious people.

We made some truly beautiful Minnesota memories.

Soggy Christmas Moments

Once again my extended family gathered at my parents to celebrate a very early, but now our traditional, Christmas over Labor day weekend.

But our annual “fun in the sun/last hurrah of summer/Christmas celebration” took a very wet turn this year.

The rains we’ve been needing for weeks finally came. And came, and came, and came!

Those that would normally tent were chased inside every night by heavy rain and strong winds. They found whatever floor space they could to throw down their sleeping bags.

The favorite topic of conversation at the breakfast table was “where did you sleep?”

The brave few who found that they could hang their hammocks up in Papa’s Jim outbuildings answered with “above the table saw and just left of the riding mower!”

It was dry long enough for our annual cookout in the grove of trees and for our traditional sock hop that followed. This year’s dance included glow sticks which added a bit of color to the lightning display far to the south.

But we carefully picked everything up and put lawn chairs under cover before the next round hit in the middle of the night.

The crazy amount of rain did little to dampen our enthusiasm! Instead it provided extra entertainment and excitement! Watching the lightning in the distance, gator rides to the river to see how much it was flooding, and eating lunch in the funeral tent in a downpour all made unique and priceless memories!

Amazingly enough, it was the unpredictability of the weekend that provided the most adventure. When the rains stopped for a short while we all ran outside to enjoy the sunshine and when they started again, we’d gather on the porch to chat or find an empty table to play games.

Honestly, if I could have picked the perfect weather for the weekend – rain would not be included. But I’m thankful that Someone much wiser than I knew it would be the perfect addition to a one-of-a-kind family get-together!

And now we all know that soggy moments can sometimes make the very best memories!

Wall to Wall Family

The last few weeks have been filled with back-to-back, wall-to-wall family time.

I’m talking far-away family. This was drop everything and savor the moment family time.

First there were cousin adventures here on the farm with kitties and hammocks and games. Eating mulberries from the trees, throwing rocks in the pond, and chasing chickens fun.

And then, we had one last family reunion at Poppa and Nana’s house before they moved into a senior living apartment. All of my husband’s siblings and almost all of our children gathered to remember times past and make new memories.

Cousins, friends from birth, had one last time to hang out in the basement family room they claimed as their own, to play games on the hill in the front yard, to look through toys and books and take home treasures from Poppa -Nana’s house.

Three generations for one last time at the “big house”.

We filled those walls with laughter!

So many memories.

Locations may change.

But love remains.

And all is well.

Little Things Mean a Lot

From the Archives, February 2012. One of my all-time favorite posts! A good reminder of how important the little things are in a marriage! Still true six years later.

I’ve always loved quilts. I’m amazed at how a quilter can take separate pieces of material and turn them into one beautiful creation.

The definition of a quilt is simple – a bed coverlet of two layers of cloth filled with padding held in place by ties or stitched designs.

I’ve found from experience that the more stitches or ties that are binding the pieces together – the longer the quilt lasts.

Several years ago I sewed a quilt for Matt’s bed. It looked nice at first – but since I made it very quickly, the few ties that I put in to hold it together soon broke in the strain of use.

I have another quilt that my Grandma made for me during my college years. She carefully tied it every few inches making a tight and warm covering that has stood the test of time and is still being used today.

One quilt lasted and one didn’t.

Marriage is like a quilt.

It begins as two separate lives that are bound together by a vow.

Then the process of “quilting” begins.

A good quilter knows that many small stitches hold better than a few big ones. The same is true of marriage. It’s the little things in daily life that will make a marriage strong.

Little things that say “I love you and you are important to me.”

Things like – getting up early to make your husband breakfast and packing his lunch before he leaves for work.

And getting the special “thank you – I appreciate this” look while he holds your hand and blesses that breakfast.

It’s when your husband puts a CD in and immediately goes to your favorite song, or when he gives you all the M & M’s from his trail mix, or takes the dish towel from you and sends you to the couch to rest.

It’s letting your husband eat the last piece of apple pie, or choose what to watch on TV, or sleep undisturbed in the recliner on a Sunday afternoon.

It’s a kiss when they leave and a kiss when they return.

It’s a phone call at lunch break, a back rub, a shared joke.

It’s taking time to really listen.

It’s putting their needs ahead of your own.

It’s those little things.

Stitch by stitch. Everyday. Binding your hearts together.

“Little Things Mean A Lot”

Kitty Kallen

Blow me a kiss from across the room
Say I look nice when I’m not
Touch my hair as you pass my chair
Little things mean a lot

Give me your arm as we cross the street
Call me at six on the dot
A line a day when you’re far away
Little things mean a lot

Don’t have to buy me diamonds and pearls
Champagne, sables or such
I never cared much for diamonds and pearls
’cause honestly, honey, they just cost money

Give me your hand when I’ve lost the way
Give me a shoulder to cry on
Whether the day is bright or gray
Give me your heart to rely on

Send me the warmth of a secret smile
To show me you haven’t forgot
For always and ever, now and forever
Little things mean a lot

Ten Years Already!

Ten years ago this week I published my very first blog post here on Blue Jeans and Cotton Tees.

Ten years was a long time ago.

George W. Bush was president.

The first iPhone was introduced.

And the Boston Red Sox won the World Series.

On the home front, we were on the farm, living in the old house and home schooling all five kids, ranging in age from 15 to 6.

So much has changed since then.

Today – I home school just one.

We’ve graduated four and added one son-in-law.

We moved to the new house.

Added cows.

And Jan started working in town.

Ten years. Wow.

I started blogging on a massive desk top with a tower that took up half the desk.

Now I click away on my little laptop.

My first photos were taken on a chunky digital camera that could do about ten pictures before the battery died, edited in ancient software and took 10 minutes to upload on our dial-up.

Today I take pictures on my iPhone and edit and upload within minutes.

At the time it was common for bloggers to give their young kids a blog name to protect them in the massive, unpredictable blogosphere.

Matt already had a successful blog and online presence – I used his real name.

Laura was the only one of our children to never have a nickname stick. She chose Dagmar as her blog name from her favorite movie at the time I Remember Mama.

Peter’s blog name was easy – Pedro. But he also earned the nickname “Crash” following an incident involving the 4 wheeler and a multiflora rose bush.

Anna was given her blog name, Angel Girl, by her daddy years ago. Every Sunday morning I would pull her hair back and fasten it with her very favorite “pretty pretty” (a hair piece with a lacy flower and ribbons). It looked like a little halo on her head and daddy called her his little “angel girl”.

Nathan was always the Little Buddy. But at almost 17 and taller than I am, he’s ready to move on.

They all are. So from here on, their blog names are no more! You are welcome kids. You’ve earned it. Thank you for letting me tell your stories here. You’ve given me some awesome blog fodder through the years and I’m sure there’s more to come!

Ten years.

And you, my readers, have been there.

You’ve watched my children grown up.

You’ve rejoiced with me.

You’ve wept with me.

And you’ve laughed with me.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read the ramblings of this Country Gal who loves playing with words and always dreamed of having something published.

Your comments and words of encouragement have meant so much to me! Thank you!

And now – it’s time to celebrate!

In honor of ten years – I plan to dig a favorite blog post out of the archives occasionally and share it again. Some of my favorites, the most searched, the funniest, the most embarrassing.

I’ll clearly label them “From the Archives” so you can easily tell the old from the new posts.

And don’t worry – there are some posts that need to stay well hidden in the dark recesses and may never see the light of day again!

Ten years is a lot of words.

Thanks for reading them.

Memory Lane

We had another little walk down memory lane last weekend as I met my siblings at mom and dad’s for our second annual sibling weekend.

Rain and cold kept us from many of the outside projects that we had planned – but we braved the north wind for one last visit to grandpa’s barn – which is scheduled to come down this weekend.

It’s listing even more than last year – if that’s even possible.

We rescued barn doors and gates and wrestled off century old siding to be passed out among children and grandchildren and great grand children to be used in projects and flower gardens.

All the while sharing memories of our times at Grandpa’s farm. Laughing about the time grandpa paid us to paint the barn – and we painted the snouts of his curious pigs as they came sniffing around the side. Grandpa was not impressed. Or happy. And we were asked to not do it again!

The cold, rainy weather also gave us time to dig through some heritage boxes in the afternoon, meeting ancestors, hearing family legends and uncovering treasures.

Like my Grandma’s diary – giving a rare glimpse of her daily life as a farmer’s wife and mother. Seeing her through new eyes and appreciating her all the more.

And my great, great Grandma Foltge Jurgena’s passport. She emigrated from Ostfriesland, Germany in the 1800’s with her husband and children.

We held in our hands a piece of history. Our history. And I wondered why they came? Was it hard to leave? How did they say good-bye to family? Pay for the trip? Start over in a new country with a new language?

But I’m so glad they did. Or I wouldn’t be here. Thank you Albert and Foltge.

We spent the evening as we did many times growing up – gathered around in the living room eating popcorn and watching family slides.

Remembering family trips and birthdays.

Laughing hysterically at our younger selves in all our awkward cuteness.

Reliving the joy and craziness of everyday life with five siblings, vivid imaginations, and an old farmstead for a playground.

Precious snapshots of days long gone.

Glimpses of who were and how we lived.

And of those who went before us – parents, grandparents and great great grandparents – who made it possible.

We are truly blessed.

The Story Quilt

I’ve been working on a very special quilting project this winter.

I call it the story quilt.

I didn’t piece the top together – I don’t know who did. My friend Amanda discovered it at a craft show.

But as soon as I saw it – I knew how special it was and I volunteered to quilt it for her.

This is a vintage quilt.

A scrap quilt.

A quilt that my grandma would have made.

A quilt that tells a story.

Each square is a bit of fabric that holds a memory for someone – carefully saved bits of cloth that when sewed together become a piece of personal history.

It’s a quilt that spans generations – a time capsule of style and fabrics.

Vintage cotton from the 1940’s.

Checked gingham from the 1950’s.

Fun prints from the 60’s.

Polyester from the 70’s.

And even a few calico pieces from the prairie looks of the 1980’s.

All sewn together – with no rhyme or reason.

A delicate dotted Swiss next to a sturdy denim next to fake wool next to a piece of a work shirt like my grandpa wore – so faded and paper thin that I worry my quilting stitches are the only things that hold it to the quilt.

Bright 1970’s colored print next to a mustard and brown stripe next a pink floral next to a juvenile cowboy print.

Every square vaguely familiar as if I’ve seen it before.

These patches of fabric aren’t from my life – but I can see them in it. Their colors and textures and designs are all woven through-out the times and places that I’ve been.

Memories come flooding back as I hand quilt each square. This Raggedy Ann print reminds me of my curtains as a child. My sister has a skirt in a plaid similar to this one. That piece of blue cotton looked so much like Grandma’s house dress that I cried.

This quilt is special – a work of art.

Not because of how it’s put together – the squares are uneven and the whole thing buckles and curves – but because of what it contains.

Hundreds of stories. Millions of connections. A patchwork of history.

People don’t make quilts like this any more.

Maybe we should.