Leslee Clapp

What I Learned Being Old School

2014-08-21T14:24:00.001-07:00

Technology is amazing. I remember what a big deal it was when my dad brought home a color TV. We soon learned how to adjust the color so everybody on the TV didn’t have green skin.

My parents bought me an electric typewriter for my 21^st birthday!

I remember how important I thought I was when Roger bought me an answering machine (remember the ones that played a little song?) Or when my father-in-law bought us our first computer.

I also remember how dumb became when I got my first cell phone. They’ve been smarter than me ever since. I need someone thirty years younger to explain anything important to me. I’m a technology dinosaur.

I ate with my daughter Anny at the Sunrise Café on Tuesday morning. The Sunrise is my regular stop for oatmeal smothered in fruit. I have different breakfast buddies at least three days a week. They know me at The Sunrise, and greet me by name and with coffee. The waitresses are my friends and I know a lot of patrons by sight.

The only technology involved in my breakfast is the coffee maker, the stove, and the overhead lights.

Anny and I ate, eggs and a pancake for her, and my regular for me. Morning light poured in the window and lit up her big blue eyes. I watched all her nuances of expression as she talked.

Finally I said, “This is the best way to talk. Face to face.”

She agreed. And she is really, really good with technology!

I left The Sunrise that morning thinking that maybe I not such a dinosaur. That my breakfasat eating buddies and I were really doing something wonderful, creative and old school. That there really was something precious in face to face conversation.

Technology is wonderful. I learned to skype and I watch Norah roll across the living room floor in Lubbock, Texas. And I already have an important skill. One I mastered years ago.

Come on down to The Sunrise. I’ll introduce you to my favorite waitress. And I’ll buy the coffee and we can just talk face to face.

What I Learned From A Texas Girl

2014-08-11T10:18:00.002-07:00

Recently, my wonderful daughter-in-law Jen recommended that a young woman come and live with us. This woman would be a Clapp, like Shayna and Rachel and Heather. Shayna came to us recommended by Anny. Rachel was recommended by Margaret. Heather recommended by a good friend at church.

Shayna, Rachel, and Heather have been a source of joy and growth. My heart doesn’t know the difference between them and the children who have always been mine. There’s a lump in my throat every time they introduce me as their mother.

Jen’s friend is from Texas. She would live with us, work and go to school. Jen knows me. She said, “Don’t get too excited yet. She might decide not to come.” And I tried to take her advice. But, my child-like heart kept singing, “Our new daughter is on the way."

It turned out that Jen’s friend was “amazed,” that people she didn’t know would take her in. Just ask Sami Jo, who lived with us last year. Jen’s friend decided not to come.

I don’t know if I would trade sunny Texas for NEPA. I don’t know if I would hop on a plane and dive into a new life. But I cried when Jen said our new daughter wasn’t coming. All my plans blew away like dust. I looked forward to hearing a life story and contributing something to it. I looked forward to having a Texas daughter to be proud of.

I mourned for a few days. I tried to think of a way to protect my heart. But there is no way. My heart is an accordion file. It opens to accommodate those who need it. I can’t hold it back. I don’t know how else to love.

It’s risky, stepping into someone else's life. But my children, both extras and originals, have always given me more than I’ve given them. My deceased friends, and family, people I’ve lost touch with, have made me rich.

There are people around me who hardly have a place in my accordion-file. I’ve gotten scared and lazy. It’s about time to love them too.

And, Jen, let your friend know there will always be room for her if she changes her mind.

What I Learned From the Light From a Bathroom Fan.

2014-08-04T07:51:00.001-07:00

I was feeling sorry for myself the other day.

Then I noticed light.

In the bathroom at my mother-in-law's house something glowed dimly on the wall. Her bathroom is very dark, with no window to the outside. But today a circle glowed there.

On the side of the wall about a foot from the ceiling is the circular vent for the bathroom fan. The light was so bright outside that it shone in the fan grating. There was nothing on the wall there above the potty but the light shining from outdoors, beckoning through the fan grating.

I thought, "Whooee a sunny day," and went outside to bask in the sunlight.

On vacation recently, Roger and I slept in the basement of a beautiful house up in Lake Placid. We got settled in on Sunday evening and laughed as we opened the blinds. There wasn't much to see from our beautifully curtained window. It looked out into a basement window well.

The next day we discovered a deck had been added over the window well. A flight of stairs led up to the ground under the deck, an alternative in case we couldn't use the hallway right outside our door. We also saw that a spacious deck connected to the house right above our heads. We could see grass about five feet away if we looked sharply to our left.

The next day the window got lighter at dawn. Every tiny space between the deck boards let in some diffused light. The light at the side of the deck even found its way into our hidden window. It was weakened, only a pale reflection of the glorious summer morning that lit the world beyond the deck. But, wonder of wonders, there was light that turned our window from black to a soft light gray.

The light just shone. It found a way past the deck boards. The sunlight shone through the vent into my mother-in-law's dark bathroom. The light found a way to do what it does. It just kept shining. It didn't pull back from the window well or the fan grating because it couldn't do much there.

Some of us are able to be the summer morning and some of us are able to be the diffused light of the window well. But don't you think all of us are able to shine?

What I Learned From Norah Ruby Clapp

2014-07-22T08:51:00.001-07:00

What did I learn from Norah Ruby Clapp? ( FYI: She's the cute little one. Anny's the cute big one. I'm the one with the gray hair and the wrinkles.)

I learned from Norah:

*she is the cutest baby girl ever! (You should see Ayden and Townes, my extra grandsons!)

* it's OK to have gray hair and wrinkles! After all I am Grammie now.

* I haven't forgotten, "This Little Light of Mine," "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam," or other songs my Sunday School teacher taught me.

* I haven't forgotten silly camp songs from 4H.

* Dave and Jen are really good parents. The discipline of a daily schedule IS a good idea. (Although it's foreign to my natural hippie-ness)

* I can still change a diaper, carry a baby like a football, and give good baby back-pats.

* it really is nice when they come

*it is even kinda nice when they go. (Grammie is tired!)

* loving Norah is a given!

AND THE GREATEST THING I LEARNED FROM NORAH?

She doesn't pick who she loves. She just smiles at everybody and expects them to love her back. I know she is a baby and that is her God given reflex to smile at people and be lovable. We are hard wired to love her. Blah, blah, blah, about nature, but the fact is Norah is lovable and made everybody respond. She was quite a hit at the Jaquish family reunion!

She made me think, "What if I just step out into the world remembering that I am loved by God and my all my family? Wouldn't I be a lot closer to 'do unto others what you want them to do unto you?' Doesn't everybody want to be recognized as a person with value? Doesn't everybody want to have recognized dignity?"

So, if I make eye contact with people in the grocery store or say good morning to a stranger, or offer hospitality to a neighbor or somebody in my church I barely know, I'm just being loving like Norah.

I wonder what she'll teach me when I skype with her next Monday?

What I Learned at the Mohonk Mountain House

2014-07-21T13:25:00.002-07:00

I stepped away from writing off all kinds. Kind of like cleaning house. Well, now the writing house is clean. So David helped me spruce up some things and I want to connect with all of you again. I missed you!

So, if you look on my facebook you will find a lovely picture of Skytop at the Mohonk Mt House in New Paltz New York. New Paltz is where Margaret Clapp went to school and worked and met her beloved Jesse Littleton. They have been married almost two years. Margaret liked the little town of New Paltz, because it reminded her of Tunkhannock.

Tunkhannock, where I met Roger F. Clapp. And why did Roger take a job in Tunkhannock, you ask?
He liked it because it reminded him of New Paltz.

His mother grew up on a farm just outside of New Paltz. When she came to town she saw the Skytop tower looking down on the town from the mountain top. Roger grew up going from Lyndhurst New Jersey, to New Paltz to visit his grandparents just like I grew up driving from Clarion to Tunkhannock to visit my grandparents.

He always talked about the Mohonk Mountain House, a swanky old resort nestled in the Shawangunk Mts., part of the Catskills. The Mountain House is all old wood and stone and was built for sanky folks to vacation.

Roger has talked about the Mountain House for years. So guess where we went for our 35th anniversary, March 31, 2014? We faked all the swanky folks out and stayed one night in the elegant Mt. House. It was fun to play dress up, fun to pretend to be swanky, and fun to finally see, after years of trips to New Paltz, what the inside of the place looked like!

We also decided that we would still pick each other and we hope the next 35 years are just as cool as the first 35!

Here is the view of Skytop that graces my facebook.

Here is the Mt. House. A castle, right?

Here are Les and Rog pretending to be swanky.

Dessert with chocolate lettering!

2014-02-11T14:07:00.003-08:00

Norah Ruby Clapp, daughter of David & Jen Clapp of Lubbock, TX was born at 1:44AM on Tuesday, February 11, 2014. She weighs 6 pounds, 14 ounces. All are doing really fine. Thanks for your prayers!

What I Learned From A Rubber Ducky

2013-10-23T15:48:00.003-07:00

Lots of things are perspective, you know? Like we went to see a duck in the water at Point Park in Pittsburgh. It was a rubber ducky, you know “cute and yellow and fuzzy?” like Ernie sings about? Only this ducky was forty feet tall. He towered over the point and over all the people gathered there for pictures with him. He was overwhelming. If I was a little kid he would give me nightmares. He was too much of a good thing.

Then there is your dog’s perspective. I remember my dog Goldie. She was perfect, except once in a while she would come home after being out in the field and rolling in deer manure. She got an injured look on her face when we held our noses and exclaimed loudly and washed all her perfume off. Because that’s what she thought all that deer manure was. Lovely perfume. It was a matter of olfactory perspective.

And today? I saw little red flags outlining a triangle concrete barrier in the road. You know those barriers that funnel the cars in one way and out the other? Well the little red flags were on wires and they said, SMI on them, “snow removal Inc.”

Now snow being good news is definitely a matter of perspective. Ask them at Rock and Snow in New Paltz New York and Rich and Andrew will say, “Snow is a good thing.” They rent and sell outdoor clothes and equipment for all seasons and for all kinds of rock climbers. They think snow is good.

The people who make a living from SMI think snow is a good thing. A matter of perspective.

So the is the fact that I’m the wife of a guy that’s 59 years old and sat and watched the younger set dance at my brother’s wedding this weekend. I always felt sorry for my mom and her sisters when they just sat and watched us dance at a cousin’s wedding. Little did I know that they sat and talked about us and everything and enjoyed themselves. Just like I did talking to my cousin Pam and Joyce and my sister. We had as much fun chatting as they had dancing.

It’s a matter of perspective. But a forty foot rubber ducky is still really, really big.

What I Learned From Rachel

2013-10-16T08:48:00.004-07:00

What I Learned From Rachel

Rachel sat on top of a bus during a festival in India. She taught ESL in NYC. She drank out of a clear running stream in Poland. She befriended and lived with a family in Germany. She stood in a public square for hours in her bare feet to raise awareness for poor children who have no shoes. She made latte with hazelnut my favorite drink.

She also was homeless from the age of 16, living with friends and family until she came to us when she was 21. Now she is a Clapp. She calls us for comfort or advice. She comes home to us at Christmas. She sends mother's and father's day cards.

Rachel is a hero, beautiful inside and out. Her orphaned situation DOES NOT dictate who she is. She loves people abundantly and isn’t bitter. She's joyful, enthusiastic, determined, and a little stubborn. She diligently rises above the hand she was dealt. We mainly cheer her on from the sidelines.

More and more she sees clearly who she is. She’s proud of her Polish heritage and her big original family. She is also proud to be a Clapp. We’ve always been proud of her, but sometimes we have to brag about our kids a little, so . . .

The last time she was home, she said, “There’s hasn’t been a blog about me.” So here it is. My apologies if it sounds like a eulogy, Rachel is alive and well. But really, don’t you want to hear how wonderful people think you are? Isn’t it a little late to tell them when they’re laid out in a coffin?

So let them know how wonderful they are.

I love you, Rachel. Here’s hoping your mascara is waterproof.

What I Learned In My Name.

2013-10-09T13:10:00.003-07:00

Leslee. I met another one the other day, another L E S L E E. She was the first one I ever met face to face.

Lesley was a last name in England. It means, “dweller in the gray fort.” At first I thought, “great, my name means some big old gray house.”

But then I thought, “Princesses dwell in gray forts.” And Roger means “good with a spear.” So they kind of go together right?

A fort is big and safe with a moat, and a drawbridge, and thick, thick walls. My fort also has windows that stream light out into the dark so you know where to come. It has soft beds and yummy dinner. (even though we might have take out.)

It’s a safe place for friends, family and extra family. My dear extra kids have rooms here: Shayna and Rachel and Heather and Sami Jo. They have found peace and a warm bed in my fortress at 250 Grove Street, or in my former fortress in Tunkhannock. Now my house is open to Shayna’s beautiful son Townes, and Heather’s beautiful boy, Ayden.

Emma still has a room here, and books in my basement even though she was only my kid for a summer. Other kids have room here: Jen Clapp and Jesse Littleton have been added by falling in love with my kids, and Baby Clapp has a room reserved for him/her already.

Looking at all those people, and all of you who read this, it’s a good thing I dwell in a fort. I have enough room for all of you and for friends I haven’t met yet. Stop by. I’ll leave the light on.

What I Learned From Anny's Old Shoes

2013-10-02T14:17:00.002-07:00

When Anny Clapp was a little girl--I hope this doesn’t make me look like a bad mother-- she had black patent leather shoes that she loved, loved, loved. She wore them all the time. One day I realized that they were way too small for her and had been for some time.

She put up with them because she had no idea that we could just run down to Ames and get her new ones. Her toes were cramped and couldn’t grow because of those ratty old shoes.

Allow me to mix my metaphors.

Lately, my life has been closed doors. I wanted to do that. The door closed. I wanted to try this. The door closed and locked. I wanted to be there. The door slammed. I wanted to go here . . . you get the picture.
Could it be that God is closing all those doors because I am still wearing those worn- out, too- small, shoes? He might have newer, bigger, and flashier shoes waiting for me if I would just bring myself to take off the old ones. I don’t know what He has in mind just like Anny didn’t know I’d buy her a new pair of shoes.

My patent leather shoes could be a habit I need to break. A rut I’m in. A fear of saying, “Well, I’ll try it but I never did it that way before.” My binding old shoes could be the idea that because I’m 57 I’m too old a dog to move into something new.

But Anny’s feet couldn’t grow if I left her in the old shoes. Maybe I can’t grow until I allow God to throw out the old shoes and give me new ones.

What I Learned From Autumn Leaf Festival

2013-09-26T07:49:00.005-07:00

So today we’re going to Clarion for Autumn Leaf Festival. It is the only event I know of where Clarion University and Clarion the town work together to cooperate. The whole town goes all out for a week. A carnival moves into the middle of town. When I was a kid I thought that was amazing. I always rode the Ferris Wheel and the merry go round, ate cotton candy. And all I had to do was walk up town.

The merry go round is in the same place it was when I was a kid. The park across from the court house has the kiddy rides and the parking lot and convince store have the big kid rides set up all around them.

Tomorrow, Friday, the whole town from 2^nd Avenue to 8^th Avenue is shut down for a HUGE craft show. I start Christmas shopping tomorrow. Yeah!

For as far back as I can remember this has been my favorite holiday. Being outside for two days in the brisk weather is a big part of it. Visiting with the Kroh side of my family is a big part too.

Watching the Autumn Leaf Festival Parade is a big part too. It is two hours and lots of floats and bands and Zem-Zems. Lots of candy and really fun. Last year Josh proposed to my niece Erin right in the middle of the parade in front of hundreds of people up on Main Street.

This year they are riding in the parade as Mr. And Mrs. Josh and Erin Frederick!

But this year is different too. This is the first ALF where my parents are both gone. I am the old lady now. Is this how my mother felt about ALF? Should I be happy I get to go? Should I be sad so many from my mother’s generation are gone?

I think I will be both. Happy that I still get to go to ALF. Still get to see Erin and Josh, my niece and nephew-in-law. I still get to see my brother and Tina. My nephew Danny, and Sheryl and Little Jack, my great nephew. There are some old friends in Clarion that I run into and my cousin and his family still live there.

All the growing up memories are there too. Bike riding and swimming at the town pool. Editing the high school newspaper. Bringing Roger home to the ALF and bringing the kids. So much fun and so many memories. They gather around me in Clarion. And make me sad that time is marching on. And happy that I have all that to remember, and I get to go to the parade one more year.

What I Learned From A Box Of Baby Clothes.

2013-09-24T15:21:00.002-07:00

What I Learned From A Box of Baby Clothes.
There must be something to this Grammie thing.
Roger is cleaning the attic. He brought down a box. In 1993 I had scrawled on it: “David's baby clothes, made by Pam Brigham." David, born in 1982, was the first grandchild on both sides of the family. My cousin Pam went nuts making cute little outfits for him. They are still in pretty good shape. I pulled them out of the box and remembered when he wore them. I remembered how cute and cuddly he was in them. I remembered how proud I was of my little boy in his blue corduroy overalls where Pam had appliquéd his name inside a red apple.
I gave away a lot of baby clothes but these I can’t part with. I think I will use them to decorate at Jen's baby shower that is coming up later this month. I think they will look really cute hanging from a clothesline in the corner or something.
But if I were a young mom attending that shower I would take a look at the baby clothes as decorations and think, "What a dumb idea. Who thought this up?"
The little clothes used to be something to cover David up. Then somehow the clothes became adorable. And I don’t think it was because they were stored in a box in the attic.
I guess what everybody says about being a Grammie is true. Grandchildren are wonderful. Ayden is three and he sure is wonderful. When he comes to visit I just watch him and can hardly talk to his mother. The same thing happens when I see Townes. But when I see David and Jen’s baby I will remember David when he was little. And that will leave me speechless. Believe it or not. And my muscles will hurt from smiling no matter what that baby does.
I can hardly wait to be called Grammie. I can hardly wait.

What I Learned and Didn't Learn From Grandma Kroh

2013-09-10T10:39:00.002-07:00

My Grandma Kroh was a little Pennsylvania Dutch, maybe. At least she made Pennsylvania Dutch pot pie. The same dish that the southerners call chicken and dumplings. You can get a form of this at the Cracker Barrel, but if you want the good kind you have to come over for dinner.

I admit, I am one good potpie maker. Ask my kids. Or my family.

Pot pie is wide, flat, homemade noodles in chicken broth over mashed potatoes. You can find a recipe on page 182 of the More With Less Cookbook.

Or :

you can take a couple cups of flour

and a stick of margarine, that could be part butter or Crisco,

and salt

and water.

You mix them until you have a ball of dough you can work with.

(That means it’s not sticky or crumbly. Add more flour just a little at a time if it’s sticky

And water a little at a time if it’s crumbly. )

Roll the dough out thin and cut the noodles a couple inches square.

Meanwhile boil the daylights out of chicken until it falls apart

While the water is at a rolling boil drop in the potpie squares

Boil them 15 minutes uncovered and 15 covered or until they are done.

And make some mashed potatoes too.

At least that’s how my grandma showed me how to make pot pie. She didn’t cook the chicken until it fell apart but that’s how I like it.

After we sit down and say grace I always say, “Oh, this probably isn’t fit to eat.” Because that is what my grandma always said. It was always perfect and melt-in-your- mouth good but she always questioned that..

Did she lack confidence? Was she fishing for complements? I think she thought she was bragging if she admitted it was perfection.

But I say, go ahead and tell me what you’re good at. I won’t think you’re bragging if you admit you’ve mastered something. And you won’t think I am when I say I’m good at potpie.

Why don’t you come over for dinner and tell me what it is you do well? We can celebrate anything from word search puzzles to rocket science over some chicken and potpie!

What I Learned From A Chocolate Chip Cookie.

2013-08-27T17:39:00.004-07:00

I made something like 5,000 cookies for David’s soccer team. Cookies for every away game for all four years. I was so proud of him when he played high school soccer. I wanted to contribute something.

So I did what I do best. I baked cookies. I learned that soccer boys like chocolate chip cookies best, then peanut butter, then oatmeal. Roger did the math and we quadrupled the recipes. It takes 9 eggs and 11 cups of flour for a quadruple batch of chocolate chip cookies. I beamed when they thanked me every year at the soccer banquet.

I reigned as the best cookie baker on the planet. But today, I passed the honors on to Anny. See, Anny wants to be a baker. She’s making good cookies. Today she asked me a cookie question. I debated for a nanosecond then I shared my cookie baking secrets with her.

She listened and nodded as the old Cookie Queen advised the young one. I turned back to the computer and felt pretty good about stepping down as Cookie Queen.

Anny’s cookies will only get better as she builds her own secrets on top of mine. Plus I don’t have to do the work and I get to snatch a cookie or two.

Anny is a chip (tee hee) off the old block. And that feels even better than getting mentioned at the soccer banquet.

Come on over before she gets home. There are a lot of oatmeal cookies cooling on the dining room table. She won’t notice if a few are missing and I’ll pour you a glass of milk.

What I Learned From My Hippie Table Cloth

2013-08-24T08:42:00.000-07:00

We had eight people over for dinner on Thursday night. For the first time we ate on the back porch. We shoved three smaller tables together on the deck. It made one very odd-looking table. I covered it with the hippie wall hanging/bedspread that I bought it at a yard sale because it reminded me of something my roommate hung on a wall of our dorm room in 1975.

Suddenly we had some kind of theme for our dinner. This would be cozy and laid back. The guests didn’t expect an elegant dinner. My table cloth was hippie, laid back and fun. So the people who sat down at the table already knew what kind of dinner it was going to be. They relaxed and ate with their fingers sometimes. They talked and laughed and passed picnic food and grilled meat.

I don’t think all the “good vibes,” came from the peace and love tablecloth. They came from Roger and me. We set the table, put on the food, and then thought about the people we ate with. They got to know each other and we got to know more about them.

Even when we ran inside as it started to rain, nobody went home. We all just sat in the living room and talked. I hope the company had as much as fun as I did.

Come over sometime and eat with us. I’ll get out the hippie table cloth. Or any other one you pick. Roger and I will be glad to see you. Let that set the tone.

What I Learned From My Friend Susan

2013-08-21T13:00:00.003-07:00

Today Susan gave me a push. I needed one. I made a lot of creative glass tableware by gluing beautiful pieces of glass together to make candy dishes, vases, chip and dip servers, candlesticks, etc. I thought they were great. “One of these days I’ll find somewhere to sell them,” I said.

After a few “No, thank yous,” I shoved my artsy glass dream onto the back burner and left it there.

Then Susan came along. Now Susan is a laid back California girl, but she urged me to keep looking for a venue. She took me to Tunkhannock, boldly carried the tub full of glass art into the vender and expected me to start talking.

I had convinced myself that nobody wanted what I offered but the vender thought I made art. When the vender suggested a way to display it, Susan and I ran around town and got some silk flowers and starlight peppermints for vases and candy dishes.

I let myself get a little creative in the display. I signed a contract, and my things looked really nice adored with candlesticks and peppermints and flowers.

If it wasn’t for Susan all my art would still be packed away in the basement. She calmly believed I made art. I had no confidence until she lent me some. Sometimes, I wish I was still twelve. I knew then that I was unique, creative, beautiful. I didn’t have to have anybody tell me.

But I’m sure glad Susan told me today. I never could have done it without her steady help. I really do need my friends. Thanks to all of you for all the times you believe in me so I can too.

PS Shop at FRIENDS on Tioga Street (main street) Tunkhannock. Great name, huh? And great art!

What I Learned From A Paperback

2013-08-17T08:25:00.000-07:00

Once I had a wonderful hard-backed study Bible. Roger bought it for me when I talked to my ladies group in my church about the Bible. It had wonderful scholarly features like cross references so you could look up related verses, and footnotes of what the scholars thought the passages meant. You could really appear smart quoting from this Bible.

Then one day when I was talking to the ladies I accidently pushed the hard- backed Bible off the stand where I had opened it to read from it. I was probably gesturing wildly like I do when I get really going with something.

I broke the poor Bible’s back! Now about a third of the Bible, falls out when I open it. Other parts of the Book are barely hanging in there. All the references from the back have to be put back in the book before it can use them.

Then I had a paperback Bible. It has some extra features, but nothing like the fancy Bible. My more humble Bible, the paperback one, is yellow and dog-eared and goes in and out of my purse and my back pack and my car. It has been to more than a few camping events, and has been dropped, accidently pushed off a desk, more than once.

Yet the paperback Bible, because it is less rigid, is still going strong. It is a book I can pick up and read without stopping to piece it back together.

The other Bible has to be held together by me before it offers me anything.

I think I’d like to be the yellow paperback Bible. I’d like to be still offering words of hope and encouragement in my plain wrapper. I want to be still trudging along until I’m ashes to ashes. I think there might be something to adapting yourself to situations. There might be something in being flexible and not so rigid. Both books have the same good news. Yet one of them is more useful day in and day out.

I guess I aspire to be a paperback book. Don’t you?

What I Learned From National Geographic

2013-08-13T21:54:00.001-07:00

Someday I’m going to burn my bra. Not because I’m a belated feminist. The only statement I want to make is, “BRA I HATE YOU!”

I have hated every bra I ever owned. They cost too much. They never really do “lift and separate” like they claim. Or if they do lift and separate, they seem more like a straight jacket or some torture device, instead of something to make me more feminine. As if something made of spandex and nylon could make me more me.

Then , of course, if the cup fits, the straps fall down. If the straps fit, the elastic part around you cuts you in two. Or makes ridges in your shoulders. And if you find one that fits in all areas, the company stops making it by the time you need a new one. They show too much or look like those high way cones under your T-shirt. Or you wobble like jello as you walk down the street.

It’s not gauche anymore for your straps to show. But I’ll never get used to it. Even if I spent a small fortune for pretty colored bras so my straps could show with flair .

I always kind of admired the cultures where women only had to wear skirts. Where they weren’t jabbed by under wires, or chaffed by elastic, or had to keep shoving straps back under their shirts. Where they weren’t held hostage by Victoria’s Secret or Playtex. Where they didn’t hang on Oprah’s every word about fit and then feel incomplete if they didn’t make a pilgrimage to the right boutique to pay a million dollars for THE bra.

I always secretly thought it was nice that the “girls” could swing in the wind in those National Geographic pictures. Should would feel better. Don’t you think?

Even me, nonconformist that I am, will not get rid of my bras anytime soon. I have dispensed with stockings and heels for the sake of comfort. But I probably will always wear a bra.

But I just had to rant a little. Get it off my chest, you know?

What I Learned From Yolanda Powell

2013-08-10T08:49:00.000-07:00

I just talked to a group of ladies about something my cousin Sue Gillespie labeled RADICAL HOSPITALITY. You see, I attended this great class at the Greater Philadelphia Christian Writer's Conference last week. Yolanda Powell explained some basics of public speaking.

She is one amazing teacher, sensitive to her class and to God. She helped us pull topics out of our hearts, our passion. Anybody who ever stands up in front of a group should listen to what she has to say. (Find her at www.yolandapowell.com.)

So, in class we had to tell the group what we could offer them as if we were introducing a longer speech. I introduced myself and said, "I practice radical hospitality."

I picked that topic because it’s easy and I had to say something, but the women leaned forward listening.
I said, "I can teach you how to be relaxed when you have people over or dinner."
They nodded. I could feel them listening.
But that was all I had. Because it was only an introduction.
But here is what I would/ will develop:

Keep the Important important. You are having company to get to know them. Don't let silly things like dishes and tablecloths and even food interfere with getting to know the other person.

· Keep it simple.

· Practice a couple meals until you can cook them in your sleep.

· Get the table set the day before.

· Enlist your husband's help. (Roger is good at refilling drinks, and serving bowls)

· Forget about your house after they walk in the door. (At my house a young woman just starting out cleans for me. Makes it easy and I am helping her get on her feet.)

· If they say what can I bring? You say salad. Looks great on the table and they can have the fuss not you. You can serve salad then dinner—more elegant

It is precious to get to know somebody else. You are loving them. And they are loving you back. Come on over for dinner. And bring the salad.

What I Learned From: A Writers Conference, A Wedding, and a New Baby

2013-08-06T07:12:00.002-07:00

Townes was born last night at about 1:30 in the morning. He is the second grandbaby of my extra kids. He weighed eight pounds, From his picture I'm sure he's beautiful!!! I get to meet him this afternoon. I can hardly wait.

On Saturday Josh married my niece Erin. The sun didn't set in DuBois PA, that night because Erin glowed so brightly.

On the way home from the weekend in DuBois, we stopped at an antique shop. We talked philosophy with the antique dealer. He said, "Hope is the rarest of diamonds." He talked about how hopeless people were and how it was so hard to maintain hope.

I say, go to a wedding like Erin's and you will see hope. She is not naive. She knows how hard it can be to maintain a marriage, yet she and Josh jumped in with both feet, as my mother would say.

Go look at Townes little face on his mother's shoulder. Bobby and Shayna know something about the world, yet they welcomed Townes into it.

Hope might be rare. It might just be an ember guttering out until we go to a wedding or see a newborn. They fame the flames and our hope lives again.

Or go to a writers conference. People there come back year after year, take rejection after rejection, yet do not give up on what it is they are called by God to write.

Hope is hard to kill and easy to see. Just as Mrs. Erin Fredrick or Shayna and Bobby. Only Shayna and Bobby won't answer you. They are too busy looking at baby Townes.

What I Learned From All My Cousins, Jaquish and Kroh

2013-07-21T14:30:00.000-07:00

It used to be I took all my cousins for granted.

John and Mable Jaquish had twenty -six grandchildren: Barb, Charlie, Mike, Tom, Dick, Stephanie, Nancy, David, Laurie, Leslee, Judy, Jack, Linda, Virginia, Bill, Lou, Becky, Mark, John, Kathy, Robbin, Pam, Chris, Susan, Derrick, Douglas. Ta-da!

The other side is more simple: Lester ( I was named after him) and Lucy Kroh had: Jeanie and Janey, Bob, Leslee, Judy, Jack, Bette Jo, Allen, Pam.

Some of them have passed away and some of them have no children, but most of them got married and had kids, so if you assembled everybody related to me . . . .THAT WOULD BE A LOT OF PEOPLE!!

Then if you brought together all the people who are my friends? ANOTHER WHOLE LOT OF PEOPLE!!!

And I feel like I spoke to most of them in the last few weeks. Most of my friends and most of my relatives. And the ones I didn't speak to I am sure had a few stories about my mom they thought of one day in the shower or driving to work.

I wanted to say that I love my cousins and I am so grateful that they made an apperance, or called or wrote during this time. I love my friends too, old and new ones, who hugged me or sent a card or e-mail.

George Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life learns that no man is poor who has friends. And I would say that no Leslee is without comfort who has friends and friendly cousins!

So, Wednesday in the church basement and Thursday in the Mexican restaurant I sat and ate lunch surrounded by family and friends all taking and laughing and celebrating our family and my mother's life.

I thought to myself, "This is what I want to remember about my mother's funeral." The feeling of belonging right where I was, in the middle of all my unique and wonderful cousins and aunts and uncles and friends and family. Thanks everyone, you blessed my socks off.

What I Learned From the Gravel Embedded In My Knee

2013-07-16T17:58:00.000-07:00

I learned to tie my shoes.
I learned to whistle.
I learned to drive a car, even though I had to take the driver's test three times.
I learned to read and never stopped.
I don't need training wheels on my bike, I learned to ride it. (Or do you need them again when you haven't been on a bike in a decade or two or three?)

I learned to type and text and not talk back to the GPS.

THEREFORE: I can master all the web stuff I need to do to look like a professional writer!!!!!!

Can't I?

David Clapp, my clever son, has it mastered. He showed me some nifty ways to make my one-sheet look beautiful. He promised to help me do an author face book page, to learn to twitter, and to look like an all around professional author.

But here's the thing:

When I was a kid in Clarion, I had a friend named Cathy Stewart. She lived at the end of of a block that went down a hill and into some really deep pot holes before the pavement turned the corner to become Barber Street.

One day we were sitting in her yard on our bikes. She said, "Oh, no, you can't ride your bike around all those pot holes. Only people who live on this street and know how to do it."

Well guess what I did? Your darn tootin'! I jumped on my bike rode down the hill and crashed into a really deep pot hole. I still have gravel in my knee to prove it. Stop by and I'll show you.

So now I think I just might listen to my intelligent and handsome son, David Clapp. I don't know what the electronic or website equivalent of gravel embedded in your knee is. And I don't think I want to find out.

Mom's Eulogy

2013-07-13T10:02:00.002-07:00

Hey, this was the eulogy for my mom. I actually said all this on July 10, and July 11, 2013.

Generous. Warm. Stubborn. Gregarious. Hospitable, strong willed, creative, opinionated, witty. Just a few words describing our mom, our sister, our Aunt Elaine. I never could figure out why you got to call her Auntie Lane. Why did you all get to call her Lane when everybody else called her Elaine?

You’re never ready for this. Even when your mom is 90, you never are ready for this day.

In 1945 our mother, Elaine Jeannette Jaquish Kroh, graduated from Mansfield and took a job as a Home Economist in Clarion County in western PA. On her way to Clarion she remembered stopping on the road in Kyttle to allow a huge porcupine to cross.

She boarded with Mr and Mrs Conley and their daughter Jane introduced her to Jack Kroh. Jane was dating Jack’s brother Dick. Later Jane became Mrs Dick Kroh and our mom became Mrs Jack Kroh on May 18 1950. Leslee, Judy and Jack, were their children. Elaine and Jack lived at 207 7^th Ave. in Clarion for all their married life.

When I was growing up it took years for me to figure out that Aunt Jo’s yard next door wasn’t just an extension of our yard. The Kroh’s always had family birthday parties and I thought it was pretty cool to celebrate with my Mom, my cousin Jeanie and my Aunt Jean, the other Feb. birthdays.

When the Jaquish’s had a party all the girl cousins slept in the back bedroom. I remember pounding on the floor of the bedroom pleading with my mother and her brothers and sisters in the kitchen below to please shut up and let us sleep. They did when they were good and ready.

She came to every play even though I was only in the chours and every horse show even though she was afraid of good old Silver. She came to the Clarion County fair and took all us horse kids out for lunch only she made us roll down the windows of the station wagon. I guess we smelled like horses. She brought us ice cream cone cupcakes before they were popular. She claimed she invented them even. She put up with a lot of slumber parties, and drove us wherever we wanted to go especially to Tunkhannock.

My mom could really sew. She made my wedding dress, and the dresses for most of my bride’s maids. She looked at Barbie’s wedding dress and then made me the dress of my dreams. And everybody has a dish cloth or two that she made.

There is one more story then I’ll turn it over to Judy and Jack and all the rest of you. Please be thinking of an Aunt Elaine story you’d like to tell. My friend Kathy and I were at Judy’s taking mom home to her nursing home. We started talking about heaven and my mom said she was a good person . We know that that is not the way we gain entrance to heaven. We must have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I mean we must be friends with Him, like a son or a daughter is friends with a parent. Coming into God’s family is done by prayer, by talking to Him and asking for His entrance. The benefit is a more full and rich abundant life.

So, getting back to my story. Kathy said, “Well Elaine, I’m going to pray a prayer of salvation and if you agree with me just say amen at the end.”

Driving along I stayed silent, thinking to myself that this would never work. But Kathy prayed and mom said Amen. Two weeks later she broke her hip and I came back down to Lewisburg to be with her and help Judy. I was alone with her in the hospital room when the chaplain came in.

I thought good I’ll let him talk to her about heaven. On my prompting the chaplain said, “So Elaine, are you going to heaven?”

Mom said, “yes.”

The chaplain said, “Why do you think that?”

Mom said, “Because Jesus said I could.”

I almost fell off my chair. After that day we noticed Mom did change and become an encourager to the other folks in the nursing home. She became more mellow and happier and we believe that is a change God made in her as a result of her entrance into his family.

So we are sure she is in heaven now with our Dad and others.

Now that mom can play bridge again, I suppose she and her brother John R. are partners and I would suppose that there might be two other bridge players up there to make up a hand of bridge.

Now Judy and Jack will speak, so please be thinking of a brief Aunt Elaine, Grandma, or sister story you could tell. (and a whole lot of people talked. If you have a memory of my mom go ahead and post it to me! Thanks. Love you all)

2013-07-08T11:03:00.003-07:00

hi everybody---sad news.

My mom passed away on Sunday. Her funeral will be in watsontown alliance church pa where she lived for the last three years near my sister Judy. She will also have a service in Clarion at 10am either at Burns Funeral Home or Clarion Methodist church, not sure which yet.

your prayers and thoughts are welcome.

i'll blog aobut her later.

What I Learned From Too Much Spider Solitaire

2013-07-02T10:01:00.003-07:00

I'm trying not to hit the panic button as the Philadelphia Christian Writers Conference draws ever nearer and I have three proposals to get ready. And one of my kids just came home restless and looking for her future, and three of my friends have mothers that are in hospice. And one set of my married kids is coming home for an extended visit, the only time we see them all year. And another good friend confided in me and seems to need a listening ear. And I still have three proposals to get done in four weeks. YIPES!

IT COULD BE WORSE, you say? You're right. It could. My sweet Roger never complains about all the housework he does while I peck away at the keyboard.

But today as I was wasting time playing Spider Solitaire, which I claim is my warm up to writing brillaintly, it occurrred to me that I never know what will happen next as I turn over a card. The card piles could be days in my life. As I turn over a new one how will it match the other ones already face up?

It also occurred to me that if I have a long string of cards in order, red Jack, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, etc stacked on each other I am a lot more likely to be able to use the next cards that come up. It seems like if I prepare a little each day I am a lot more likely to be able to use yesterday, (the last stack of cards) to help me today.

So I think I will not panic if I don't write nine tousands brillant words today. I will just keep plugging away at it and see where I end up the beginning of August when I go to the conference.

An ant can move a rubber tree plant, and you can eat an elephant by taking one bite at a time. Don't you think so? Oh, and a little less Spider Solitaire is a good idea too.