Traveling with the Youngs

(A warning: This chapter is a bit of a hodgepodge. I didn’t have time to do anything better with it. I think you can understand it.)

Wendy can never remember a time when we didn’t take family vacations, family trips. Every summer, or almost every summer, we took a trip somewhere. I guess there were a couple of summers when money was really scarce or Frank didn’t feel that he could leave the store and we didn’t feel that we could go anywhere. But those times were few and far between.

The rule for us when our children were young was that we needed to go to Washington every two years. Why? So that they would grow up knowing grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. And they did know them. In some ways, they knew their relatives on Frank’s side better than they knew many of the ones on my side, even though my relatives lived much closer than Frank’s.

We probably did some things as parents that we shouldn’t have done; however, one of the things that we were right on target with was showing our children the beautiful country that we live in (we always drove). Many times, we introduced them to history as we traveled. They always wanted to stop at roadside attractions like “The World’s Longest Snake” or “Alligators That Eat Children Alive” or some such. Instead, we took them to museums. I don’t know that they paid much attention, but they didn’t complain. Wendy can probably tell you more details than I can about those museum and history stops. Her memory is much better than mine. One thing that the three of us remember is all of the problems we had while traveling. But those problems didn’t make the trips awful; they just made them memorable.

In an effort to make this book not quite so long as others that I’ve given you, I’ll send you to Married to My Hero: the Pensacola Years. The next-to-last chapter is titled “Just Three More Things.” There are several stories about our travels in that chapter. I hope you’ll read it someday!

One of the trips that I’ll never forget was in 2006. The day after Corey’s high school graduation, we left for three weeks in Europe, going to the following countries: Germany, Croatia, Italy, Switzerland, Holland, and England. I wrote all about this trip in the book

Warm Remembrances, which I gave to all of you for Christmas in 2019. I hope you’ll read that book someday, even if you don’t know all of the people. Lots of pictures in that book! And ever so many good memories.

Another one of my favorite trips was the one that we took with Sam to Alaska in August 2013. Masako had died in August 2011, and Sam and Tim’s house had burned in August 2012. We were determined to make August 2013 a happy month.

Just as I was trying to wrap my head about what I wanted to say about Alaska, I decided to check what I had written on Facebook concerning the trip. What I found was the last post that I wrote, and I thought it would be good to include here. As I mentioned at the beginning, this chapter is a hodgepodge. I wrote the following on October 13, 2013, a long time after we returned from our August trip:
A Bittersweet Ending (;inally written almost two months after returning home from Alaska)

I believe I need to give a little bit of a history of vacations that Frank and I have taken in our almost 52 years of marriage before I explain the meaning of this title. So bear with me for just a few more words before I sign off from “North to Alaska: Sandy, Frank, and Sam’s Big 2013 Adventure.”

Our ;irst vacation was in August 1962, when we struck out from Clinton, Mississippi, one Friday afternoon after work, headed for Fall City, Washington, so that Frank could introduce his bride of not quite one year to his family. That’s right! I hadn’t met anyone in his family except his sister, Sally, and the wonderful man who is now my Big Brother Sam . . . and of course, his sweet little wife, Masako. You can read the complete story of this ;irst vacation in Married to My Hero, the book that I wrote for Frank as a gift for our 50th anniversary.

Our family vacations began, I believe, in the summer of 1965. Wendy was two years old when we took her to Fall City to meet aunts, uncles, and cousins. She had met her grandparents and one uncle, Bob (whom we taught her to call a “rat ;ink”), the summer before, but we wanted to be sure that she knew other relatives on her dad’s side. I have no siblings, but I have two cousins, Marilyn and JoAnn, who are like sisters, and she had already met them and their families. My parents lived only a couple of hours away from us after we moved to Pascagoula, Mississippi, where we lived at this time, so she knew them well. After the great time that we had with all of our Washington family, we determined that we’d go every other year to visit them. After Jay was born, we continued our tradition. I wish that I had been a journaler during all of those trips so that I’d have lots of details, but I wasn’t, and the trips all sort of run together in my mind at the tender age of 73. Someday, though, I’ll write all that I remember because we had some vacations just full of adventures. We made these Northwest trips until Wendy and Jay were in their teens. What fun we had!

Frank and I had other vacations without our children . . . mainly to Europe, when we were advisors and administrators of trips with high school students. Ah! Those were the days! I could write another book or two about these trips. I think we went at least ten times. Our reason initially for going was that we’d never be able to travel to Europe if we didn’t go as the adults on the trips because of ;inances. Our trips were free because we were willing to ;ind the students whose parents could foot the bill, educate those students during the year so that they wouldn’t be “ugly Americans” and so that they’d know what was awaiting them in Europe, and to be parents/teachers/principals to the kids for two to three weeks. We had a wonderful time, and many of those “kids,” who are now adults with families of their own, are still our friends, mainly because of Facebook.

We took another vacation alone the year after I completed my ;irst year as a sales rep for McDougal Littell Publishing. The year was 1997. We went up the east coast all the way to Prince Edward Island, stopping to see friends and family along the way. It was on this trip that we found out that Frank’s aunt, Doris, had died, and we were able to connect with cousins who had gathered for the funeral, cousins that Frank hadn’t seen since 1944 and some that he had never seen. I never had met any of them before that day.

In 2006, right after Corey’s high school graduation, we took what we have always referred to as our “Dream Vacation.” We went to Europe by ourselves, visiting all of the friends that we made during our years of traveling with students and of having exchange students in our home. That summer, we went to Germany, Croatia, Switzerland, Holland, and England, most of the time staying in the homes of our dear friends.

Two of our most memorable vacations were planned by Wendy. The ;irst was in 2007. Wendy, Jackson, and I had planned a road trip to Pensacola, and just a couple of weeks before we were to leave, Wendy convinced Frank that he HAD to be in Pensacola by April 27 and assured him that Todd would travel with him. Her dad couldn’t refuse her, and on April 28, we had a surprise that we’d never forget . . . a reunion of MelonHeads, followers of Velvet Melon, Jay’s band. We had a grand celebration of our boy with his friends. The next vacation was also a Velvet Melon Reunion, but we were absolutely privy to that one. The really exciting part of this reunion, on August 28, 2012, was a concert by Velvet Melon guys, all but one of them members of the band when Jay was alive. Truly an evening to remember!

And then came January 2013, when we decided to visit the Bremerton Youngs. During our far too few days with Sam and his family, we asked our big brother if he might like to take a vacation with us the coming summer. We wanted to go to Alaska, and we wanted Sam to go with us. He deserved an August that he’d remember for good things. You see, in August 2011, his wife of more than 50 years, our sweet Masako, died; then in August 2012, Sam, Tim, Molly, Mackenzie, Becca, and Harrison had lost their home to ;ire. Sam NEEDED a good August, and we thought we could plan one for him. He immediately accepted our invitation, and all three of us began to make plans.

You may be wondering why I thought you needed to know about earlier vacations, so I’ll tell you. I wanted you to know, when I told you that this was the best vacation ever, that I had lots of vacations to compare it to. This wasn’t our ;irst vacation; it was just the best. And why was it the best? Mainly because we went to super exciting Alaska, the only state that we hadn’t visited. But also because Sam was with us. What a treat to travel with my hero husband and his big brother, one of my favorite people in the whole world! I told you in the ;irst paragraph that I’d explain my title, “A Bittersweet Ending,” after “a few more words.” I ;ibbed about the “few more words,” I’m afraid. You know I can’t say anything in a few words. But here’s my explanation. It’s always so exciting to plan a trip and to have a wonderful time traveling, but it’s sweet to go home again. For Frank and me, the old saw “There’s no place like home” rings true. So why “bitter”? Because I had to leave my Big Brother in Bremerton, not knowing when I would see him again. I’m sure we’ll see him sometime in 2014, but that seems like a long way away.

Sam, thanks for making our “North to Alaska” trip my most memorable vacation yet. I wondered before our trip how I’d like having two gentlemen roommates. The truth is . . . I loved it! We did just ;ine, didn’t we?

I love you, Big Brother!

you about the gatherings. I loved them and hope that we can have another one . . . maybe in 2022.

I have lots of photos of our trip, but I’ll post only one . . .

I’ll end my travel chapter here, but you know that our trip to Alaska wasn’t our last wonderful trip. All of you have participated in some of our family reunions at Destin and Pagosa Springs. Lots of fun at those places; however, since you were there, there’s no need for me to tell

Christmases I Have Known . . . and Loved

Christmas in 2020 will be so different from Christmases in past years. I can’t say that I like the difference as far as celebrating goes; however, the reason for Christmas is the same, and for that I am grateful . . . much more than grateful. The birth of Jesus is what Christmas is really about, and this year I hope that we will celebrate this miraculous birth even more than we have in the past. I’m not nearly so involved in gift-buying this year and am much more involved in thinking about the gift of Jesus and thanking God for sending His Son to save us from our sins. I can’t even imagine God’s love for us.

Our family celebration this year will be in the form of a Zoom gathering on Christmas Day, and it will be so much fun, but I must tell you that I’ll miss the gathering at our house, the hugs, the big Christmas dinner . . . all that I’m used to on December 25. And so . . . since we won’t have the usual celebration in 2020, I’ve been thinking about Christmases in the past, trying to conjure up speci;ic memories, and smiling as some of them have come to mind. Let me share some of those with you, and forgive me if I ramble a bit.

If my mother hadn’t had two or three miscarriages before I was born, I wouldn’t have been an only child; however, God’s plan wasn’t for a big family for Nina and Arlie Cheatham. We were a small family with enough love for a huge one. The ;irst Christmas that I remember was in New Orleans. We moved there in 1945, so it might have been that year or maybe a couple of years later that I remember the beautiful tree that my mother must have decorated herself because I have no memory of helping her. It probably just magically appeared . . . maybe Santa brought it. I just don’t remember. I do remember lots of presents under the tree and that the tags on ones that appeared even before Christmas were labeled “To Sandra from Santa Claus.” I always thought it strange that gifts from Santa Claus could appear before Christmas Day. It took me a while to catch on. Not the brightest light on the tree, huh? I remember that I always insisted that I have a gift for every child in my class and that my mother helped me to decide what girls would like and what boys would like. I don’t remember that other children did this, but my giving probably had something to do with being an only child and wanting to share Christmas with other children since I had no siblings. I also did the same thing on Valentine’s Day. Every child in my class had to have a valentine. But I digress.

Many, maybe most, children have remembrances of being at their grandparents’ house for Christmas. Not so this girl. I spent only one Christmas in Logansport at my mother’s parents’ house. I recall other grandchildren being there, and I suppose their parents were there, too. My mother and daddy were, and they came loaded with gifts for their only child. I remember that I had lots more gifts than my cousins had. Mother and Daddy should have taken that into consideration because my having more than the other girls caused a big problem. I remember that all of us girls were sleeping on pallets in Bud’s bedroom. I was sleeping next to Marilyn, and we were whispering secrets to each other, thinking that the others were asleep. I asked Marilyn if she believed in Santa Claus, and she said no. I told her that I didn’t either. I found out years later that JoAnn overheard us. What her sister and I whispered, plus my receiving so much more from Santa convinced her that Santa Claus wasn’t real. I’m glad that I didn’t ;ind out about Jo’s discovery the only time that I was at my grandparents’ house for Christmas. The visit would have been ruined for me.

I received a doll every year until I was probably twelve years old. The last two that I remember were one with blonde hair that I could comb and one named Kathy. I’m sure her name came with her. She was beautiful! She had red braids and was dressed in a pink and green dress. I’m sure that if I had gone to the Pensacola Motor Lodges no later than 1956 I would have found both of these dolls, plus many other treasures from my childhood in a garage at the back of the property. Maybe some day I’ll get up the nerve to go there just to see if maybe, just maybe, some of my treasures are still there.

The Pensacola Christmas that I remember best was in 1958, at the end of my ;irst semester of my freshman year. My dad had been talking about a car for me for weeks, but I didn’t know if he was really serious. He was! On Christmas morning, he and Mother escorted me, blindfolded, to the front porch. They took the blindfold off with a ;lourish so that I could see my beautiful Inca Gold and White Ford Fairlane. Daddy had bought it from his cousin in Florence, Alabama. Mother wasn’t nearly so excited about my Christmas gift as I was, and every time something went wrong with the car, she’d say “Give it back to Lynn!” And my sweet daddy would answer, “Mother, I’m sure Lynn would be happy for me to give it back to him.” Mother would huff and puff a little and walk off. I was the envy of every girl in my dorm when I showed up in my lovely new vehicle. You need to know that not many students had cars on the campus. My girlfriends and I went lots of places together, but I was forbidden to drive Inca, my car’s name, home to Pensacola. I had to enlist either Bob Gilchrist or Gary Kohr to drive. Fine with me!

The first Christmas that Frank and I spent together was just eight days after our wedding. We went on a quick honeymoon to St. Augustine after we married and returned probably on December 21 so that we could help Mother and Daddy in the store during the rush of the ;inal days before Christmas. I’m sure Frank spent almost all day every day putting bicycles together. The only thing that my sweetheart could think that I really needed (lots of wedding gifts) was a beautiful little parakeet. We named him Christopher Christmas, but all he knew was Chris.

Our second Christmas (1962) was memorable for a couple of reasons. I was pregnant and had just begun wearing maternity clothes. I loved “showing” in my new skirts and tops because cars stopped for me to walk in front of them as I crossed the street. I loved my two-piece out;its and the beautiful dresses that were full and didn’t show my fat tummy. I don’t like it today that women seem to want to emphasize their tummies by wearing dresses that ;it tightly over them. Guess I’m just old fashioned.

The second reason that Christmas #2 is memorable has to do with our Christmas tree. We wanted a real tree (there were very few arti;icial ones back then), but we couldn’t afford one. Frank was working for Frazier-Morton Construction Company, renovating Crestman Hall on the Mississippi College campus. They would dump their trash in a place just behind a beautiful stand of “Christmas” trees. So . . . one rainy, muddy Saturday, we ventured out to cut a tree. We cut a lovely tree, but it cost more than one from the tree lot would have. You see, we got stuck in the mud and had to call a wrecker to get us out. Very expensive! But we had a beautiful tree, and I bragged about it so much at work in the Registrar’s Of;ice that Mr. Mohon, the registrar, asked us to get a tree for him . . . which we happily did. Only later did we ;ind that we had “stolen” trees from the Mississippi College tree farm. I suppose we could have gotten in a lot of trouble, but the authorities never found out about our escapade!

Our first Christmas with Wendy was very special. We didn’t have much money to spend on gifts for our baby, but I remember that Mother and Daddy loaded her up with toys; I also remember that she liked the boxes, wrapping paper, and ribbon more than the toys. Somewhere I have a photo of her in the middle of what would become trash. Frank made a Christmas card for us in 1963. I don’t know that I have an actual card left, but I have a photo of it. My husband is so creative. I have no idea how he made it!

When we lived in Pascagoula, Mother and Daddy always came to our house for Christmas because Santa Claus wouldn’t know where Wendy was if we weren’t at home for him to deliver her toys. I have a very special recollection of Santa and Wendy when she was about three years old. In Pascagoula, at that time, we didn’t have a Santa for the children to visit before Christmas, so she and I went to Sears in Mobile so that she could tell him what she wanted for Christmas. We stood in line for quite a while; then Wendy walked shyly to Santa and climbed up in his lap. While she was walking, Santa’s helper asked me if there was anything that I wanted the jolly old elf to say to my little girl. I told her to ask him to tell Wendy if she didn’t stop rolling her eyes up in her head (an annoying habit that she had begun several months ago and which we couldn’t get her to stop), he wasn’t going to take her any toys. Oh, my goodness! I wish I had a photo of her face when Santa told her! Amazed and shocked are hardly the words! And you know what? After our visit to Santa, she caught herself every time she started to roll her eyes and put them back where they belonged! And now, Wendy knows the story of how Santa knew about her bad habit! That is . . . IF she ever reads this chapter!

The next Christmas that I remember isn’t for any one thing special. I don’t even know the year, but I have a photo. It’s of (left to right) Angela, Karen, Wendy, and Kathy. Such cute little girls in front of Mema’s silver aluminum tree!

One Christmas, Wendy and Karen were sleeping together in mother’s room on Christmas Eve. Both little girls were still ;irm believers in Santa Claus. They lay there whispering about what they wanted to ;ind under the tree the next morning. All of a sudden, the bedroom door opened, and in walked Santa! At least that’s what their vivid imaginations caused them to see. I don’t know if they ever ;igured out that it was mother, quietly going into her room to get something. Children!🎅

I’ve written before about one of my favorite Christmases in Pensacola. Here it is again . . .

I believe it was the Christmas after the guys returned from New York when we had a wonderful surprise. For many years on Christmas night, the guys had gigs, and Jay usually left for the gig around 7:00. On this particular Christmas, Jay got up from the lunch table and announced that he had to leave. We assumed that he was going to a practice before that evening’s gig. Not so, though. About two hours after he left, we heard Christmas carols outside. Upon checking, we found the guys playing the carols for us. What a sweet Christmas surprise for the families of all the guys. They were going from home to home to give this special “giff” to families.

My memories of Christmases here in New Mexico are best told in photos. Whenever I have a real Christmas photo of our family, that photo will be for Christmas. In some years, we didn’t do a family photo, so I’ve just chosen one that is special to me. Early in our years here, I would prepare a big Christmas Eve dinner and then do another big dinner on Christmas Day. Eventually, your old mom/grammy wore out. I was so happy when everyone agreed that we should get together at a restaurant on Christmas Eve, usually for brunch. Thank you so much! I love preparing Christmas Dinner, but two big meals back to back were just too much. Because of COVID, our last Christmas Dinner was in 2019, but I hope that 2021 will be different and that once again we’ll gather to celebrate!

Christmases in Cerrillos

Some of my favorite Christmases have been here in Cerrillos. One Christmas, we didn’t have Jackson because he was born in 2005, our ;irst Christmas being in 2004. And after that, we didn’t have Danil until 2012 and Dasha until 2016.

During our ;irst years here, I would cook a big dinner on Christmas Eve and then again on Christmas Day. I don’t know whether you should call it laziness or old age on my part, but several years ago, I suggested that we go out for brunch at a restaurant on Christmas Eve. In the early days, I loved being able to foot the bill myself because I was still working; however, since 2017, I haven’t been able to do that. The get togethers weren’t nearly so much fun for me after I was of;icially retired. I was so sorry to cancel the brunch this year, 2021. I was a bit in;irm, plus I was trying to do some cooking ahead of time for Christmas Day, when there would be seventeen at our table.

When I ;irst began this section of A Love Letter to My Family, I inserted LOTS of photos from Christmas Eves and Christmas Days from 2004 - 2021; however, Pages isn’t nearly so easy to use as Word when it comes to inserting photos, and the photos just wouldn’t stay in place. The photo section was a mess, to say the least, and I spent hours trying to get everything in place and staying there. I don’t give up easily, but I ;inally did. And so I’ve just chosen some of my favorite Christmas Family Photos for my book. (I couldn’t ask any of you to help me with my photo problem, but eventually I ;igured out for myself how to insert photos. Pages has things hidden. There’s an old saying from TV commercials . . . it isn’t nice to fool Mother Nature! . . . and I can apply that here. New programs shouldn’t try to fool GrammySandy!)

Another problem that I had is that because of moving photos here and there, I managed to get several blank pages. At the moment of my writing this, they’re still there. I just can’t discover how to get rid of them! So . . . Grammy’s not happy with this section, and you know when Grammy ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. it is what it is! I love these photos!

Social Media
A Love-Hate Relationship

Sometime in November 2008, Frank and I were sitting in the Sunport in Albuquerque, waiting for our plane to Seattle. Frank’s cousin Joyce had been begging me to join Facebook for several months. I had refused because I thought it was a social gathering place for kids, and I wanted none of it. Just a silly place for kids to stay in touch with each other.

As I sat there bored waiting for our plane to be called, I thought Joyce has never steered me wrong before. Maybe I’ll try that Facebook thing. If I don’t like it, I can always get Wendy to show me how to get out of it. And so began some of the best times of my life.

I fell in love with Facebook immediately because as soon as I pushed the GO button or whatever it was that I did to join, I saw a picture of two people whom I had been searching for for years. This isn’t the photo that I saw, but Mary didn’t have it posted in her Facebook friends’ photos. This one is beautiful, but it was taken just a few years ago. Mary was so lovely in college, but she’s even more so now, sixty-two years later! Meet Mary and Charles Simpson, two of my favorite folks in the whole world!

I visited with Mary and Charles in their home in Clinton twice in recent years. Perfect hosts! I’m sorry to say that Charles died earlier in 2019, spending his last years, trapped by Alzheimer’s. Mary was the perfect caregiver the whole time. She and Charles were loving sweethearts to the very end. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone more devoted to each other than Mary and Charles. I could write a whole chapter about them, so can you understand why I was so happy with Facebook immediately? I wish all of you had known them.

There’s a whole period in my life that you know practically nothing about . . . my college years, in some ways the best years of my life before I married my sweetheart and started your family. If I think of Mississippi College today, “my heart leaps up,” to quote William Wordsworth. I’m so happy that the Lord gave us, when he created our magni;icent brains, the ability to close our eyes and to actually see places and events. I do this with MC many times. I really may write a book about my college years if I can call up those precious memories from so long ago. I know that this paragraph seems as though it doesn’t even belong in this chapter, but Mississippi College is where I met Mary and Charles, and everything concerning them is part of my precious MC memories.

When I was teaching at both Pascagoula High School and Woodham High School, I remember being sad at graduation time because I would probably never see my students again. I wouldn’t know what happened to them after their days in my class. I’d completely lose track of them. Facebook to the rescue!

I now have three Facebook friends from Pascagoula High School. I don’t really remember anything about them, but I accepted them as friends just because they went to PHS. I believe that all of them still live in the Pascagoula area. Those folks are from my life in 1964 - 66. That’s a long time ago!

I believe I have close to 100 friends from Woodham, maybe more. I love keeping up with these “kids,” many of whom are in their sixties and have grandchildren. I love reading about what they, their children, and their grandchildren are doing these days. Have you ever noticed the grammar posts on my Facebook wall? (You probably haven’t noticed many because you don’t check my page often.) Most of those posts are from former students.

Former students also send me questions that their children and grandchildren have about grammar and/or literature, or they might just want to let me know that their children are reading the same literature that they did in my class . . . as this photo shows.

Sometimes I see prayer requests on Facebook, many times from former students. I read recently that for prayer requests such as this, we should stop immediately to pray, so that’s what I do instead of feeling bad because I forget to pray later.

I learn about marriages, babies, and grandbabies, but I also learn sad things, like the death of Candy Carter’s husband. I remember years ago communicating with her on the phone and on Facebook about her upcoming trip to Europe. And we talked/wrote about our grandchildren. Her granddaughter is just about the same age as Jackson, so we had lots to chat about. I didn’t know her husband, Arthur, but I cried for Candy when I heard her news. I’ve known her for many years. She married before she graduated from Woodham, and I remember that all of us teachers worried that the marriage wouldn’t last. Hah! They were married for more than thirty years. She reminded me recently that she still has the fancy pie plate that I gave her when she and Arthur married. I didn’t remember.

More sad news came to me through you, Wendy. You’ll remember that you saw the news about Pete Ruckman before I did. When you called, you made sure that I was sitting down when you told me that Pete had shot his two precious sons and then killed himself. My heart was broken (it still is) because Pete was one of my favorite students of all time (you can read all about this tragedy in Married to My Hero — The Pensacola Years). I immediately broke in to tears and stayed in that state for several days every time I thought about Pete and his senseless actions. In the days following the killing, I kept up with Pete’s friends on Facebook, both on pages and in messages. Shawn Hale arranged for a lunch meeting in memory of Pete while Pop and I were in Pensacola for my 60th PHS Class Reunion. Shawn would have had it earlier (Pete died in February), but he waited speci;ically for me because of the loving relationship that Pete and I had. We had a “mutual admiration society”! Here’s a photo of Pete’s brother Mike, and his best friend Chris Tredway, both of whom were also my students. I’ll never understand Pete’s thinking or lack thereof that night in February. At the lunch, we told only funny stories about Pete, and believe me, there were a lot of them!

I took an online course on using social media years ago. During three weeks, our teacher addressed LinkedIn, Twitter, and Facebook. I am a member of all three. I occasionally read LinkedIn messages that come to me, but I seldom reply. I have the membership because at one time I thought I’d like to do editing and proofreading. I’m not a good editor, and proofreading is much too much like grading papers, so I really don’t enjoy that activity either. So LinkedIn isn’t for me as far as using it. I do like to see what friends are doing in their accounts.

As far as Twitter is concerned, I have a user name and password, but I haven’t a clue as to how to use it. I have instructions in my notebook from the course, but I never have wanted to join the world of tweets. The real reason that I took the course was to learn more about Facebook.

I neglected to say that the course that I took was specifically for how writers can use social media. I already knew how to use Facebook for personal communication, but I wanted to ;ind out how I might advertise a little business on Facebook and earn some money. So . . . I developed a page called Sandy Young, Writer and Editor. Why I mentioned editing instead of proofreading, I’ll never know. After I sent messages about my page to people that I thought might want to know what I was doing, I had lots of visits to my page; however, I didn’t get even one nibble for work.

Everything so far has been about my love of Facebook; now for the “hate” . . .

Guess what! I wrote six paragraphs about what I hate about Facebook, all of them being problems that I have with what you write. I agonized for months about whether or not I should include them. I thought about it; I prayed about it. I ;inally came to the conclusion that your pages on Facebook are yours, just as mine are mine. You can say anything you want, and I have no right to complain about your opinions. I’ve deleted the first five paragraphs, but my next paragraph here is my last one in my original paragraphs. I still like it!

That’s enough about my love-hate relationship with social media. I love all of you so very much. We all love each other, and I know that. Most of you have no trouble in expressing even negative feelings, but I do. I could never tell you these things in person. Writing is my medium. I just wish y’all would read what I write. By the time that you read the books that I gave you for Christmas 2019 and this book, I’ll probably be with Jesus, Jay, Mema, Papa, Grandma, Grandpa, and a host of others that I love. I hope all of you will join us someday!

Retirement
(Both the pros and the cons)

When I was about ;ifty, I began longing for retirement. I thought that special day when I would no longer have to get up and go to work would never arrive. In fact, I used to daydream about having ;inished my thirty years in the classroom, having reached the time that I could retire, and calling the school secretary to announce that I wouldn’t be going in that day or any day after that. Just kidding! I loved teaching, but after Jay died, I began to weary of it.

So, even though I knew that my true calling from God was to teach, I wanted something new before “they” put me out to pasture. Who “they” were depended on where I was at retirement age.

My friend Wendy Bennett, when she was leaving the of;ice of Language Arts Supervisor for Escambia County, asked if I’d like to have her job. I applied but didn’t get the job . . . thank goodness. I wasn’t meant for the job of helping English teachers; I was made for teaching.

I almost always attended the Florida Council of Teachers of English Fall Conference, and a couple of times, Frank went with me. He and I would stroll through the hall where publishers had their wares set up and chat about my working for a textbook company someday. The job of a sales representative must be a lot of fun because all a rep had to do was go to conference meetings, talk about beautiful textbooks, and take teachers out to dinner. WRONG! But I didn’t know that when I was still a classroom teacher. We thought we could travel together, enjoying the beauty of Florida and having fun with teachers. I wonder how I thought all those heavy books got into the displays.

To make a long story (which I have written in “Afterthoughts” in the book Married to My Hero: the Pensacola Years) short, I worked for McDougal Littell Publishing Company for seven years in Florida and another thirteen years in New Mexico, ;inally retiring for good in May 2017.

And so, to do a little math, I worked in education either as a classroom teacher or as a sales rep/consultant traveling the highways and byways of Florida and New Mexico or as a presenter of sales presentations and/or inservices online for just about ;ifty-three of my eighty-one years. That’s a long time, isn’t it?

Now Fridays aren’t the best day of the week anymore . . . they all are!

When is a retiree’s bedtime? About 30 minutes after he or she falls asleep on the couch.

On the morning of May 4, 2017, I went for my one-year check-up with Dr. John Garcia, the orthopedist who had done my knee replacement. He declared me all healed and told me to return in four years. What? I might not even be alive by then! But I am alive and need to make that appointment. After my appointment, I struck out on my last day of work. I’d make a quick trip to the northernmost part of New Mexico to drop in on a couple of schools, then return home to begin my life as a for-sure retired lady!

I think the pros and cons of retirement sort of run together. Actually, I don’t remember those ;irst months very well. Maybe I enjoyed not having big responsibilities, but eventually I found myself feeling worthless . . . that awful word that Gerry Dameron, the manager who hired me for McDougal Littell, used for me when I was working just as hard as I could doing sales presentations. And I didn’t like feeling that way. Also, I was just plain bored. I’ll be honest and tell you that the main thing I didn’t like about retirement was not getting a paycheck. For ;ifty-three years, I had looked forward to payday, and now there wasn’t one. Sometime early in my retirement days, Frank said that I could have my $309.38 Houghton Mif;lin retirement check to spend as I’d like . . . most of it going to Amazon each month for books and make-up.

My days of feeling worthless began coming to an end in September 2019, when I read an article in the AFA (American Family Association) Journal called “Reaping a Harvest with the Grahams.” The article told of an organization, a part of the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, “Search for Jesus.” Thank you, Lord! Working with SFJ would be just what I needed! I investigated and found that I could answer emails from people who had spiritual problems, a much better assignment for me than talking to people in person about such things as salvation. Sometimes I feel like Moses at the burning bush! God gave him Aaron to speak for him; maybe God was giving me SFJ to tell others about Jesus! After two months of training, I was trusted with the opportunity to witness via email. My ;irst email to a seeker was on November 8, 2019. Ever since then, I have been trying to answer at least five emails a week. Perfect job for zipped-lips Sandy! I know for sure that God sent this job to me.

And then just about a year later, He sent me another job. I opened an email from my friend Barbara Lautner, and my life changed. She told me that her daughter was looking for an English teacher to teach literature to 9th and 10th graders to prepare them for the SAT. Well, I knew nothing about preparing for that important test, but twenty-;ive years hadn’t erased my love for literature and for leading students to love literature, to become lifelong readers. Since August 2020 was right in the midst of the Covid-19 scare, I wouldn’t be teaching these students in a physical classroom. No . . . I’d be on ZOOM . . . in Bethlehem! Yes, THAT Bethlehem, the one where Jesus was born. I gladly accepted this new assignment and immediately began curriculum planning and lesson preparations. I have loved every minute of researching, prepping, and teaching this year. I am back where I have always supposed to be. Early on in my teaching, Mike Rollwagen (the husband of Susan, the lady who “hired” me for this volunteer job), promised me that if I stayed with them for the whole school year that they’d take me . . . and later he promised Frank, too . . . with them the next time they went to the Holy Land. Free of charge!! It looks right now (May 2021) as though we might be heading east this fall. Susan, Mike, and I are praying!!

I wonder if the old “three’s a charm” counts in the responsibility/assignment area of God’s domain. Here’s why. In January 2021, Frank took a phone call sent to Cerrillos Community Church. A half-sister of Cynthia Rowe, a resident of Cerrillos, was calling to alert the church that Cynthia had no food or radio or TV and was suffering from dementia. She wanted someone from our church to check on her. You already know the Cynthia story, so I won’t tell it here. I’ll just say that we checked on Cynthia, a lady whom I already knew from a ladies’ lunch group that both of us are members of. Ever since then, we have been taking care of Cynthia, and if all goes as planned, we’ll get Power of Attorney for her this Wednesday (May 5) and will continue to do the things that we’ve already been doing, only legally. I know that Wendy and Todd are worried that her crazy half-sister and biological sister (who lives in El Dorado but won’t give us any contact info) might take us to court. Don’t worry, though, dear ones, because we have enough fodder for a court case to defeat them.

Most of you know that there’s a long, long story regarding Cynthia and us. And her sisters! Our separation from Cynthia was heartbreaking. On my computer is my journal of January - early September 2021 called “Cynthia on My Mind.” I may print it out someday.

I have so many obligations now that I have almost completely ignored the very first thing that I found to occupy my time during retirement, definitely a pro. One day at church, I asked Eric to give me a suggestion for Bible study. As he was walking out the door, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Try bible.com. Lots of studies there.” I think this was in 2017 or 2018. When I went to that website, I found literally hundreds of studies, and I’ve done many of them. Whatever is on my mind — grief, the Holy Spirit, hope, Coronavirus, almost anything you can think of. I have recommended this site to many of the seekers that I write to on SFJ. I’ve been derelict lately is doing the Bible studies, but I get back to them from time to time.

I think you’ll understand when I say that I don’t see retirement as boring now. And I certainly don’t think I’m worthless. In fact, I’m so involved with God-given activities that if I’m not careful, I don’t have time for another activity that I absolutely love . . . reading. I always read at night before I turn out my bed lamp, but I also like to read during the day. Maybe I’ll work on finding time to satisfy my hunger for books . . . lots of time.